Brian Wees (from left), Roger Owen and James Blair are in the Invisible Theatre's production of "Camping with Henry and Tom."

Extremely intelligent men do not have to be extremely intelligent all the time – just now and then. When it really counts.

The rest of the time – say, 90 percent of the time – they can be just as boneheaded and shortsighted as the rest of us.

That is the message in “Camping With Henry and Tom,” when playwright Mark St. Germain projects an imaginary night-in-the-woods conversation on July 24, 1921, among Henry Ford, Thomas Alva Edison and Warren G. Harding (early in his term as president of the United States).

According to online accounts, it is historical fact that Ford and Edison regularly went on camping trips together between 1910 and 1920. However, it is not established why Harding was invited along on this particular excursion.

It is entirely fictional the three men were able to elude the press for an isolated evening to go mano-a-mano-a-mano promoting their favorite ideas, both political and personal. In the play, they are driving a government car through some dense woods near Licking Creek, Md., when a deer runs across the road. The car hits the deer, then crashes into a thicket.

It becomes a big plot point that the deer seems fatally injured, but none of the men has the courage to take a gun and put the antlered animal out of its misery (as people used to say). This kind of finicky attitude seems out-of-character for such high-ranking figures just a couple of years after America broke the military logjam of World War I.

Strong performances by the actors as world-class leaders free us to wonder about the “documented personal philosophies” mentioned in the playbill and portrayed onstage. Ford believes he is entitled to be elected president, feeling convinced human beings are like machines and as such can be controlled like machines. Edison is a grumpy genius unable to enjoy his success because he is convinced “they” are cheating him out of millions in royalty and licensing fees. Harding confesses “I’ve never had much of a killer instinct” and goes about proving it.

To think our nation was in thrall to such figures as these is a bit unsettling. Maybe that is the playwright’s point. Forces were converging that led to the Great Depression – which set the stage for World War II, that gave birth to all the baby boomers as well as the military-industrial complex, followed inevitably by social upheaval and a conservative clamp-down on individual freedoms.

Because the play’s direction is so crystal clear and the production so well cast, “Camping With Henry and Tom” reminds us how human nature hasn’t changed very much over the past 85 years. If these three guys represent the brightest of the brightest back then, everyone else better start paying closer attention to the people in charge today.

James Blair is brilliant as Henry Ford. His role is the central one, showing how achievement in business doesn’t qualify him to run the country. He is also anti-Semitic and lacking in a national vision. Blair takes the right line on becoming an international figure so myopic he can’t understand why he doesn’t get a groundswell of presidential support. Even more convincing, Blair gets the little details down in acting like a man used to wielding great personal power.

Comedy relief comes from Edison, played with slumped shoulders and a jowly look by Roberto Guajardo. It is entirely believable that if Edison was a curmudgeon, he would be a brilliant one.

The key role of balancing this pair of high-intensity egos goes to Roger Owen as Harding, tall and stately but squishy as an overripe banana. When he complains about never wanting to be elected president, we believe that, too.

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IF YOU GO

What: Invisible Theatre presents “Camping with Henry and Tom” by Mark St. Germain

When: 7:30 p.m. Tuesdays-Thursdays; 8 p.m. Fridays-Saturdays; 3 p.m. Sundays through Feb. 28

Where: Invisible Theatre, 1400 N. First Ave.

Price: $22-$25

Info: 882-9721, www.invisibletheatre.com

Grade: B+

Brothers Jay (Luke Hawley) and Arty (Ian Mortensen) get some tough love from Grandma Kurnitz (Roberta Streicher).

“Lost in Yonkers” is Neil Simon for grown-ups. The jokes are there just as always, but so is a resolution swept up in heart-tugging emotions that require some maturity to appreciate.

Live Theatre Workshop’s production directed by Sabian Trout brings it all forward as two LTW regulars give the performances of their lives.

Holli Henderson as daffy Aunt Bella made her reputation doing big physical comedy pieces that were extremely animated and extremely funny. Time after time her characters took over the LTW stage, shook the room by the shoulders and sent everyone out into the night feeling all the better for it.

Aunt Bella does have her moments, jumping up and down on the fold-out bed in the living room, flying all over the place in a ditzy storm of Judy Holliday humor. But this time Henderson adds a powerful layer of determination, as well.

Bella may be a little slow mentally but she knows what’s right and what’s wrong. With the idealism of a child, she digs in her heels and stands up for herself when unkind circumstances have her cornered.

To be convincing, this metamorphosis takes some careful planning. Henderson gets her laughs in Act 1 as the crazy aunt nobody quite knows what to do with. But she’s also planting character seeds that will be carefully nourished through Act 2. As sinister forces converge on Bella’s stressed-out family, trying to survive in a cramped apartment over the snack shop owned by her iron-fisted mom, Bella rises like an erupting volcano.

Henderson is absolutely brilliant, first in tipping us off that her character has hidden sources of strength, then in proving those strengths are real.

Keith Wick in a smaller role as Uncle Louie, a small-time gangster in an elegant suit, has to maximize his impact time. Just when it seems like his purpose on stage is to add some Damon Runyon-like underworld color to this tense family conflict, Uncle Louie is circling that sofa bed in full-face confrontation with Bella.

Wick has also built up carefully to this moment. Uncle Louie is a tightly wound guy with a gun. Keen to spot a con, arrogant in his attitude toward the threat of other gangsters, he projects strength with an angular abruptness. Eloquence may not be his strong suit but loyalty is his best friend.

These qualities, subtly expressed at first, become the ribs of Uncle Louie’s determination. He is, after all, a man of action, not words.

Making impressive LTW debuts are two high school students – Luke Hawley and Ian Mortensen, both from Catalina Foothills High School.

Appropriately enough, they play teen brothers Jay and Arty, respectively. There is a kind of brotherly chemistry between them, and the awkwardness that comes naturally with adolescence.

The story is set in 1942, when Jay and Arty are forced to move in with their strict German grandmother (Roberta Streicher). The boys’ father Eddie (Eric Anson) is a widower forced to go on a months-long business trip selling stuff to folks in the deep South.

Grim-faced and iron-willed, Grandma refuses to honor any emotion but respect. She treats everyone with condescension and commands them to respect her. Of course, respect is not something that can be demanded. That is a part of the story, too.

Jay and Arty must share the sofa bed that stays stretched out across the stage for much of the play. Acting like goofy bothers, the boys get most of the laughs in the first act. Aunt Bella keeps popping in, too, encouraging the lads to eat the huge ice cream concoctions she loves to make.

We learn Eddie doesn’t get any respect in the family, that Grandma has a large sum of cash hidden somewhere in the apartment (or in the store downstairs), that Uncle Louie may be in trouble with the mob and that Aunt Bella has a secret boyfriend.

———

IF YOU GO

What: Live Theatre Workshop presents “Lost in Yonkers” by Neil Simon

When: 7:30 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays, 3 p.m. Sundays through March 8

Where: 5317 E. Speedway Blvd.

Price: $14-$17

Info: 327-4242, livetheatreworkshop.org

Grade: A

Nic Adams (left) and John Shartzer star in "The Zoo Story."

Can a play about social tensions of 50 years ago still engage us today? Edward Albee wrote “The Zoo Story” in 1958, creating an off-Broadway sensation with his insistence that trouble was lurking beneath the glowing optimism of those Fabulous Fifties.

Economic inequalities were percolating as television screens popped up everywhere and sophisticated advertising techniques hooked their messages into an innocent public psyche. People who had no material wealth were suddenly reminded of their empty lives by the visions of plenty on every one of those flickering TV screens. It was not a good feeling.

Seeing themselves as losers in a land of plenty, these economically underprivileged had no place to go. Shut out by a lack of education, without the means to participate in this new materialism, they felt shut out.

Or shut in. They were caged up like those animals in the zoo, kept away from the mainstream, looked at from a distance by those who were more prosperous.

If Albee would write this one-act, 50-minute play of confrontation between today’s haves and have-nots, racial tension would be an essential part. These days, life seemed so simple 50 years ago. There were no race riots, no rampant drug use. Marriage still had sanctity. Everyone genuinely believed America was the greatest country in the world. The thrill of victory in World War II was still fresh in the air.

Those Freedom Riders in Mississippi? They were college kids making the country better by encouraging everyone to get out the vote. Or so it seemed.

We can see all this in the clean-cut production of “The Zoo Story” in Rogue Theatre’s new late-night series of shows presented in association with The Now Theatre. Chelsea Bowdren has directed a straightforward performance that makes no judgment calls.

Nic Adams in shiny shoes and a sleeveless sweater, plays Peter, the staunchly middle-class man proud of his accomplishments in earning a respectable living and providing for his respectable family. John Shartzer is Jerry, the intuitive street hustler who survives in a world of transients by using his passive-aggressive personality to intimidate those who are less secure.

In a more equal world, Jerry could have been a slick salesman applying devious skills to sell any of the amazing new products that poured out of the country’s inventive imagination.

Only, that didn’t happen. Jerry knows he’s a bright guy, but keeps bumping his head against the underside of life. By the time we see him onstage, the frustration has been growing for years.

Like a suicide bomber, he wants revenge. He wants to hurt this cruel society that keeps him caged up like the once-proud lions of Africa’s plains trapped in a zoo. Jerry wants to do some damage and is willing to give up his own life to do that.

But first Jerry must find his victim. He will pick one carefully who represents all the middle-class values Jerry longs to have.

Back in the 1950s, men had comfortable homes and loving families. They earned the money and the wives spent it wisely. Each man belonged someplace, had a warm place to go at the end of each day.

Jerry doesn’t have any of that. Carefully he approaches Peter sitting alone on a green bench on a warm Sunday afternoon in Central Park. Carefully, Jerry makes sure Peter does indeed have such a family – and the household pets who are an extension of the animals in the zoo.

In the beginning Peter is proud of his accomplishments. He puffs up politely in describing his executive job and his lovely family. Too late, Peter realizes these very accomplishments have marked him for trouble with Jerry.

———

IF YOU GO

What: Now Theatre presents “The Zoo Story” by Edward Albee

When: 10 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays through Feb. 7

Where: Cabaret Theatre in the Temple of Music and Art, 330 S. Scott Ave.

Price: $10, $5 discount when also purchasing a ticket to Rogue Theatre’s “Orlando”

Info: 551-2053, theroguetheatre.org

Grade: B-

Patty Gallagher stars in the gender-bending title role of Rogue Theatre's "Orlando."

Gender has become such a highly politicized subject in these agitated times it’s difficult to watch Sarah Ruhl’s stage adaptation of Virginia Woolf’s gender-bender novel “Orlando” without wondering what the feminists will think.

So it’s a bit of a shock to see right in the program notes of the Rogue Theatre’s production, this quote from Orlando, “Which is the greater ecstasy? The man’s or the woman’s?”

Clearly, Woolf has more on her mind than complaining how a male-dominated economy always kept women from equal pay for equal work. Rogue’s presentation supports Woolf’s wider and happier view.

Ecstasy sounds a lot like pleasure, and there’s plenty of that in Cynthia Meier’s light-hearted direction. Patty Gallagher puts her twinkly blue eyes to good use as the fantasy figure Orlando – 30 years old in Elizabethan England but only 36 when she passes away in 1928.

Oh, and Orlando begins this journey across time as a strapping lad full of sexual energy. Sometime during the Victorian era he becomes a female, wrapped up in a corseted green gown and topped off with a white, powdered wig.

Virginia Woolf’s bisexuality is well documented. “Orlando,” the novel, is her tribute to Vita Sackville-West, lovers when both were 36.

Tilda Swinton starred in a strident film adaptation of “Orlando” in 1992. No doubt that seemed like a good idea at the time.

But Meier’s take on the story is wiser, more balanced and well-reasoned. Androgyny is definitely not the solution. Making men and women the same would be as boring as parity in professional sports.

On the Rogue stage, comedy is king. And queen. Ruhl presents the play by using two actors, Orlando and Sasha (Avis Judd), accompanied by a quintet of guys. To call them a Greek chorus would only be accurate in the broadest sense.

For one thing, they get to play all the hammy parts and have the best punch lines. Basically they are mimes without white face, mugging their way through vaudeville routines straight from silent movies. They can also clump up to become trees with many branches, then scatter and twist across the bare stage to become other parts of the landscape.

Across the back wall of the stage are hung about 20 hats of different colors (some with large feathers), several elegant capes and a pair of those roomy Shakespeare-looking pants. All of it gets used in the course of covering 400 years.

Gallagher applies nonstop energy to her role, as well as adjusting her body language not only to the passing centuries but also to the switch in gender. In the first act she is so convincing as a hale-fellow-well-met, we feel Orlando’s confusion to discover himself in the body of a female.

At first she is pleasantly surprised all the guys are always so nice to her, but then realizes being placed on a pedestal to be admired also takes her out of the action. But significantly, Orlando the female also discovers women have always held a significant place in every culture.

Both genders have their struggles. Both genders have devastating pressures they must survive. At the end, Orlando is completely fulfilled, understanding both sexes.

One of the most touching love stories begins in Act One when Orlando the young man is helplessly taken with a duchess. Then Orlando has other lovers and other adventures. In Act Two, after Orlando is a woman, she meets a duke who reminds her of the duchess. Quickly the power of their love is felt across the centuries. No matter which gender they might be at the time, their love for each other can’t be denied.

Lessons like these are the most important part of “Orlando.” Certainly the feminist messages are in there, but don’t let that stop you.

———

IF YOU GO

What: The Rogue Theatre presents “Orlando” by Virginia Woolf

When: 7:30 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays, 2 p.m. Sundays through Feb. 8

Where: Cabaret Theatre at the Theatre of Music and Art, 330 S. Scott Ave.

Price: $20 general admission, pay-what-you-will Thursday and Feb. 5

Info: 551-2053, theroguetheatre.org

Grade: A-

Act shows difference between wise guys, men

Chazz Palminteri plays 18 different characters in "A Bronx Tale."

You can have many friends in life, but you only get one Dad. But if you’re a guy, you also get three great women.

These are lessons we learn in Chazz Palminteri’s intense, expressive telling of “A Bronx Tale,” now playing downtown through the weekend.

This is personal storytelling at its most compelling; open-collar portrayals of the need for grace in the blue-collar lives of Italian-Americans determined to stand tall in shop-worn neighborhoods where criminals with lots of money have the most status.

Drawing on his own experiences growing up at the corner of 187th Street and Belmont Avenue in the Bronx, Palminteri wrote this 90-minute play for 18 characters. Then he spent a year in private rehearsals, learning how to perform all the roles himself, with no costume changes, no props and only one set – a towering apartment house stoop, the boxed-in window of the bar next door called Chez Joey and, of course, that street lamp where the murder occurred that set the course of 9-year-old Calogero’s life forever.

Covering the span from 1960 to 1968, the exact time when society went into a cultural free-fall after the assassination of John F. Kennedy, there is little of the psychedelic questioning that splashed across the 6 o’clock news every evening. Instead of new values, there were the traditional – family values that would be revered by fathers with day jobs and godfathers with guns.

The very idealism that was disappearing from life in the better suburban neighborhoods and city parks around the country was being validated in this one vital street corner in the Bronx. Sometimes with violence, sometimes with harsh words spoken by brave men who depended on the truth to be their strongest weapon. This is the appeal of Palminteri’s story.

“I don’t know why it works,” Palminteri says of his performance. “I just know it works. I see it happen night after night.”

Opening night in the Tucson Music Hall, it happened again. The curtain comes up, with a doo-wop song playing and Palminteri standing with his back to the audience, snapping his fingers in time to the music.

Then he turns around and starts telling animated stories about the crazy nicknames of all the wise guys who hung out at the bar next door to his apartment building at 667 E. 187th St.

There was Frankie Coffeecake with a pockmarked face; Jo Jo the Whale, a short guy weighing almost 400 pounds; and the most-unfortunate Eddie the Moosh, a hard-luck guy everybody knew as the world’s worst gambler.

There was Calogero, who – at age 9 – idolized all these low-budget wise guys. Then we get to the magnificent Sonny, a true Lord of the Streets whose sense of fashion and body language was given to slender shoes and gestures with the kind of flare that would humble the most powerful symphony conductor.

Sonny’s podium was under the street lamp, where he watched over his domain, keeping the criminals in line and keeping the working stiffs with families out of the line of fire.

Young Calogero’s favorite spot was the stoop, just opposite the street lamp, where he spent all the time when he wasn’t in school. So one morning, right before wide-eyed Calogero’s innocent face, two men attack each other and Sonny steps up to kill one of them in cold blood.

The kid is the only witness, and refuses to identify Sonny to the cops. The boy’s father, Lorenzo, doesn’t like policemen either, but tells Calogero, “You did a good thing for a bad man.”

Sonny, meanwhile, becomes Calogero’s guardian on the crime scene – more to keep an eye on the kid than anything else. But friendship and respect grows between them. At the same time, Lorenzo is determined to keep his young son from being seduced into the life of a wise guy.

Then Palminteri jumps ahead to Calogero at age 17, filled with sexual desire and in love with an African-American girl. Sonny thinks the mixed-race relationship is OK, but Lorenzo’s dead set against it. When Calogero’s heart confuses his mind, violence erupts.

As this arc of experience evolves, Palminteri quickens the pace. His voice and his gestures often combine to create the cinematic feel of quick edits. Voice changes are accelerated by sharp hand claps. A quick nod, a jerk of the shoulders, Sonny’s stylized gestures go spinning into emotional chaos.

The technical aspects of his performance, alone, would be remarkable. But really what Palminteri wants to celebrate is not the urban illusions of stree-corner criminals but the proud sacrifice of these working-class men for whom their own families are kingdom enough.

———

IF YOU GO

What: Broadway in Tucson presents “A Bronx Tale” starring Chazz Palminteri

When: 730 p.m. Thursday, 8 p.m. Friday, 2 and 8 p.m. Saturday, 1 p.m. Sunday

Where: Tucson Music Hall, 260 S. Church Ave.

Price: $25-$65, with discounts

Info: 321-1000, broadwayintucson.com

Grade: A+

The six-guns are a-blazing at The Gaslight Theatre. The arrival of snowbird season always means traditional cowboy melodramas at the Gaslight. So we tip back our hats and throw up our hands to hear “The Ballad of Two-Gun McGraw.” He may not be the fastest gun in the West, but he’s pretty quick with a song.

All Gaslight shows are double cast, with Two-Gun played alternately by Robert Shaw and Mike Yarema.

Despite the rowdy name, McGraw is a U.S. arshal in a color-coordinated tan outfit with some fancy trimmings. That is to clearly distinguish him from the dastardly villain mysteriously known as Jack Dagger, a crooked businessman always dressed in black. He’s played by Armen Dirtadian and Charlie Hall.

There is always a kind of kabuki ritual to all the Gaslight shows, but especially the melodramas. Or “meller-dramers,” as they say in the colloquial. The damsel in distress is Melody Carpenter (Deborah Klingenfus/Katherine Byrnes), owner of the fastidiously maintained Lazy Bar Z Ranch.

Adding their special essence are the saloon girls Delilah (Sarah Vanek/Nancy La Viola), the harsh one and Tessie (Tarreyn Van Slyke/Byrnes), the sweet one with a heart of gold.

Cast as sidekicks eager to help Dagger work his insidious ploys to take advantage of these fair ladies of the Old West are Scratchy (David Orley/Hall), the totally dumb one; Red Dog (Joe Cooper/Nick Seivert), the scraggly one; and Laredo (Todd Thompson/Daved Wilkins) who is Dagger’s most trusted assistant. Along for the ride is Dogwood Dave (Jake Chapman/ Yarema /Wilkins), the stagecoach driver.

Two-Gun McGraw, being a U.S. arshal and all, has to work alone since the federal government is too cheap to pay for an associate.

The story is set in the 1880s in Texas where the Lazy Bar Z Ranch is the pinpoint of a civilization under duress. Miss Melody is feeling rather tense, what with so many bad guys prowling around in plaid cowboy britches. Maybe their children will grow up to be members of the Spike Jones orchestra.

But then Two-Gun shows up just in time to sing “Long, Tall Texan.” Laredo, meanwhile, affects his best imitation of a Heath Ledger pose from the movie “Brokeback Mountain.”

While the plot winds its way past the usual outposts, Gaslight director Peter Van Slyke does include some interesting touches. There is a remarkable dance scene choreographed by La Viola, somewhat reminiscent to the ballet dream sequence in “Oklahoma!” Also imaginative is the gunfight in slow motion. All this artsy stuff seems to have inspired a couple of the actors to practice fancy ways to spin six-guns on their trigger fingers.

All but Two-Gun. He takes his work seriously and wouldn’t put up with such silly shenanigans. It is worth noting, though, that most of the songs are Western favorites. “Cool, Clear Water,” “Tumbling Tumbleweeds” and “(Heading For) The Last Roundup” recall the Sons of the Pioneers, Gene Autry and Roy Rogers. When Miss Melody and Two-Gun sing “Happy Trails to You,” the audience can’t resist joining in.

But my personal favorite parts are the country-fried one-liners in the after-show olio, loosely based on the Grand Ole Opry, with apologies to the TV show “Hee-Haw.” There was the song title “I Keep Missing You, My Darlin’, But My Aim Is Getting Better.”

Then there was the poor fellow who fell into the upholstering machine. “But don’t worry,” he said. “I’m re-covered.”

Or another unfortunate lad who was addicted to brake fluid. “But don’t worry,” he said. “I can stop anytime.”

And do you know the difference between outlaws and in-laws? Outlaws are wanted.

———

IF YOU GO

What: The Gaslight Theatre presents “The Ballad of Two-Gun McGraw” by Peter Van Slyke

When: various times Tuesdays-Sundays through March 28

Where: 7010 E. Broadway

Price: $17.95 adults; $15.95 seniors, students, active duty military; $7.95 children 12 and younger

Info: 886-9428, thegaslighttheatre.com

Grade: B+

Bakesta King (from left), Franchelle Stewart Dorn, David Alan Anderson, Erika LaVonn and Aric Generette Floyd play a family from 1950s Chicago.

Deep-seated frustration is what powers the Arizona Theatre Company production of “A Raisin in the Sun” by Lorraine Hansberry. Frustration boosted by bitter additives of anger and depression keep the Younger family on the South Side of Chicago in a noisy state of continuous agitation.

Walter Lee Younger (David Alan Anderson) is the man of the family. But even in his 30s with a wife and small son, he doesn’t feel like a man. He lives with his family in his mother Lena’s (Franchelle Stewart Dorn) three-room apartment. She calls the shots.

Walter’s wife Ruth (Erika LaVonn) hates this arrangement. So does Walter’s college-age sister Beneatha (Bakesta King). She lives in that pressure cooker of an apartment, too.

But it is history, not the noise of continuous confrontation, that has made “A Raisin in the Sun” a milepost of American theater. Opening on Broadway in 1959, a time when the Manhattan theater scene contained more challenging offerings than just revivals of old musicals, Hansberry’s play still raised plenty of eyebrows. It was the first production of a play written by a black woman to ever open on the Great White Way.

Hansberry sought nothing less than to prove the family lives of America’s Negroes weren’t much different from everyone else’s. There was never enough money, enough living space or enough tolerance for the lifestyles of siblings and parents.

Theater historians tell us white people were shocked to realize how similar black people’s lives were to theirs. What sings out 50 years later, watching ATC’s powerful presentation directed by Lou Bellamy, is playwright Hansberry’s remarkable prescience.

She sees how fragile the urban African-American family would become. How the post-war boom of white American prosperity was creating so many economic pressures for black men, who felt shut out of the action as white businesses expanded rapidly.

These unwanted men had families, too. They had kids at home fascinated by all the wonderful toys in department stores; and wives who wouldn’t mind having at least one modern appliance in the kitchen.

Race riots, civil rights demonstrations and color TVs were still to come in the 1960s. White flight to the suburbs and access to a good college education were additional hurdles we know the Younger family will face.

Most remarkable is the playwright’s sense that African-Americans felt cut off from their heritage. All across the United States, ethnic enclaves of Italians, Chinese, French and Irish reflected something of their cultures from the old world.

Poverty was the only element America’s African communities had in common. The optimistic student Beneatha, dreaming of becoming a doctor, is also awakened to the plight of Africans in Nigeria who could use her talents.

Every member of the audience, no matter what color, will find their own personal nuances onstage. The players are intent on bringing accuracy to their portrayals.

The sunny eagerness of 12-year-old Aric Generette Floyd as Walter’s 12-year-old son Travis is a heartbreaking contrast to Walter himself, eaten away from the inside out by so many years of disappointment. Will Travis be like that in 20 years?

The women, trying to stay calm while being sucked into this cultural whirlpool, feel equally desperate because their homes are being split apart by dissension.

Lou Bellamy, the director, says the play shows us “How far we’ve come and how far we have to go.” So true, so true.

———

IF YOU GO

What: Arizona Theatre Company presents “A Raisin in the Sun” by Lorraine Hansberry

When: Various times Tuesdays-Sundays through Jan. 31

Where: Temple of Music and Art, 330 S. Scott Ave.

Price: $26-$50

Info: 622-2823, aztheatreco.org

Grade: A

Rick Shipman (from left), Carrie Hill, Art Almquist and Rhonda Hall star in "Dinner with Friends."

One thing about the institution of marriage, it will surely make you thoughtful. Donald Margulies explores some of the deeper thoughts in his play “Dinner With Friends.”

Susan Arnold has put these ideas on stage at Beowulf Alley Theatre Company, directing four actors through a strong, clear production that will affect anyone who has been married. Now that society has decided it’s OK if people have active sex lives without being married, some of the play’s questions feel even more poignant.

But doesn’t it seem remarkable that, after several hundred thousand years of human evolution, the solution to preserving permanent relationships hasn’t been figured out? How difficult can it be? A couple of people meet, enjoy each other, have fun and say, “This is so great, let’s do it forever.”

Then when difficulties ensue, the people in trouble can check on what thousands of other people did with exactly the same problem.

Why don’t the solutions that work out pretty well get passed along to the next generation? This is where Margulies comes in. He suggests there may be times when keeping the marriage together really isn’t the most important part.

On the other hand, maybe he’s wrong. Should two people even think about getting married if they aren’t committed to sticking it out?

On the third hand, suppose these two determined people keep compromising their individual dreams of happiness so they can stay married. It is 50 years later and what have they gained?

You can sit in coffee shops and see lots of senior citizen couples sharing a table but staring off in different directions, oblivious to each other. Wouldn’t both of them rather be somewhere else?

Margulies insists on asking “When is enough, enough?”

Carrie Hill and Art Almquist play Karen and Gabe, the bouncy couple who stay together because she talks all the time and he listens. Gabe maintains his dignity by occasionally making fun of Karen, who doesn’t seem to notice because she’s too busy thinking of what to say next.

But everyone considers Karen and Gabe the perfect couple, especially their friends Beth (Rhonda Hallquist) and Tom (Rick Shipman). After all, it was Karen and Gabe who first introduced Beth and Tom one summer long ago on Martha’s Vineyard.

So when Beth and Tom split up early in Act One, Karen and Gabe are shocked. Karen immediately takes Beth’s side, while Gabe suggests a more reasoned approach.

Then the story skips around in time, going back almost 13 years to the rosy beginning of this troubled marriage – then leaping ahead to five months after the couple’s initial split. All that time-shuffling strengthens our appreciation of the issues. We can be reflective, while the characters struggle onstage to decide which is more important – stability or the opportunity for change.

All four actors feel modern and real, giving their dialogue delicate shading and subtle nuance. They live upscale, civilized lives and use big words in their arguments.

Their conversations, whether humorous or conflicted, are well-balanced and fully expressed. Each cast member gets several sympathetic moments as the power in their relationships keeps shifting.

The marriage of Beth and Tom provides all the trauma in the middle portions. Karen and Gabe are the emotional bookends who set up the conflict, then get to dramatize its final resolution.

The only odd note was that on opening night the other actors kept saying Karen’s name was Carrie. That should be cleared up by this weekend.

———

IF YOU GO

What: Beowulf Alley Theatre Company presents “Dinner With Friends” by Donald Margulies

When: 7:30 p.m. Thursday-Saturday and 1:30 p.m. Sunday, through Jan 25

Where: Beowulf Alley Theatre, 11 S. Sixth Ave.

Price: $20, online discounts available

Info: 882-0555, beowulfalley.org

Grade: B+

Etcetera’s production of edgy musical gets at the humor, sadness in journey of transsexual rocker

Hedwig (played by Christopher Johnson) rocks hard onstage, but there's a sad story behind that tousled Farrah Fawcett-styled wig.

Rock ‘n’ roll theater lives up to its name in the Etcetera late-night production of “Hedwig and the Angry Inch” at Live Theatre Workshop.

Christopher Johnson in the title role looks terrific in his long tousled blond Farrah Fawcett-styled wig that has been stored on the shelf a little too long.

This wig is supposed to look that way because Hedwig has spent a long time working up enough anger to come out of the closet. Life has never been kind to this German lad, born on the wrong side of the Berlin Wall, deserted by his father, unloved by his mother and uncertain of his true gender. Then in adolescence his search for true love keeps ending in betrayal.

While “Hedwig and the Angry Inch” does not exactly follow in the wake of “The Rocky Horror Picture Show,” there are gender-bending similarities encouraging actors and audience alike to flaunt their indifference to polite behavior. “Rocky” made his screen debut in 1975. “Hedwig” opened off-Broadway in 1998, then appeared on the big screen in 2001 and became an immediate cult favorite of midnight movie fans coast to coast.

Some are calling “Hedwig” the new century’s “Rocky.” It could happen. “Hedwig” has a strong punk rock foundation and a stage look that’s only a few steps away from total depravity. Hedwig the female transsexual wannabe rock star is always played by a guy. Her male lover Yitzhak, in punk leather and face hair, is always played by a woman.

The past several decades of outrageous behavior by rude, rabble-rousing pop culture revolutionaries have created so much noise in the media, it has become exceedingly difficult for anyone to seem outrageous anymore.

Cross-dressing isn’t enough. Guys in stiletto heels snapping their whips? That is so Nineties. Same-sex couples in public in love won’t much do it, either. Kinky cross-dressing same-sex couples making love in pubic can hardly raise an eyebrow – unless there is violence involved.

So when John Cameron Mitchell created “Hedwig and the Angry Inch” he knew Hedwig had to come from a deeper, darker rock ‘n’ roll place than most people could imagine. At least, most straight people. That “Angry Inch” in the title refers not only to Hedwig’s backup band but also to Hedwig’s unfortunate body part after a botched sex-change operation. He didn’t become a female, and he was no longer a male.

That’s what makes him so perpetually confrontational.

But back to the Etcetera production. As written by Mitchell, with songs by Stephen Trask, the show is essentially Hedwig’s monologue delivered like a cabaret memoir. Johnson is tall and somewhat muscular, his character not the least bit effeminate. On opening night, wearing sparkly red high-heeled shoes, he held the attention of LTW’s packed-house audience, telling Hedwig’s sad life story.

It is an edgy performance, using double entendre as a weapon, drawing sympathy as Hedwig’s sordid lifestyle covers up a bravely innocent belief that somehow he will find the happiness that remains so elusive. Also onstage in derelict attire are a quartet of musicians: Nate Jasensky, musical director and guitar; Carlos Lopez, bass; Paul Tiller, keyboard; Michael Fay, drums.

Hedwig’s entrance sets the tone. In a dark theater he rises from the back row of the audience, acting a bit disheveled and makes his way to the stage as the band plays vigorously while the audience screams encouragement like they are at a wrestling match. In the spotlight, Hedwig holds the microphone tenderly.

“I do so love a warm hand . . . on my entrance,” he says with breathless timing. Moments later Hedwig adds that “when it comes to huge openings, many people think of me.”

Humor and sadness are provided in equal amounts, with room for some philosophical metaphors to accent the implication that all degenerates love rock music. Hedwig was born Hansel, his family living on the east side of the wall, when Berlin was a divided city. So very unhappy as a child, Hansel came to believe happiness would only be his when he found a soulmate.

So it was easy for Hansel to fall for an American soldier in Berlin, who promised to marry the teen if he would have the sex change operation that would satisfy the East Germans that the couple weren’t gay. Hansel has the operation, becomes Hedwig and moves with her husband to a trailer park in Junction City, Kan. When the disgusted husband realizes that because of the failed surgery Hedwig will never be a real woman, he dumps her.

Hedwig discovers a knack for writing rock songs, forms a band with her new lover, who takes the stage name Tommy Gnosis. Once dear Tommy becomes a rock star he dumps Hedwig, too. Now extremely bitter, Hedwig and her motley band begin following Tommy, who is playing stadium rock concerts while she only gets booked into tawdry restaurants near the stadiums. As Hedwig’s desperation grows, the rock songs become louder, harder and more desperate.

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IF YOU GO

What: Etcetera presents “Hedwig and the Angry Inch”

When: 10:30 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays through Jan. 24

Where: Live Theatre Workshop, 5317 E. Speedway Blvd.

Price: $10 general admission

Info: 982-0169, livetheatreworkshop.org

Grade: B+

Kristé Belt gives an astounding performance as a woman who travels to America in search of love in "Tell Me On A Sunday."

The poignancy is palpable in Kristé Belt’s astounding performance in song, speaking scarcely a word but singing nearly continuously for 90 minutes to take us through “Tell Me On A Sunday,” Andrew Lloyd Webber’s most uncharacteristic song cycle of unrequited love.

Now and then a couple of notes will sound like something from “The Phantom of the Opera” or maybe “Cats.” But mostly, instead of those soaring melodies, we get smaller and more intimate songs that feel lyrical without using tunes that hang on hummable hooks.

The effect is to sit in the audience and wish the famous British composer had been more fascinated with this format instead of those pompous power ballads. It is Arizona Onstage Productions, and founding artistic director Kevin Johnson, who bring this seldom-produced show to life.

Belt is a performer made for this material. Her voice leaps over octaves and flirts with opera, embracing one quick turn after another while still sustaining the long phrases without effort. Yet she vaults through these vocal gymnastics so easily, plenty of creative energy is left over to deliver the lines with an animated face and rich body language.

The character she becomes is Emma, a bright young Englishwoman latched into a roller coaster of ecstasy and despair as she arrives in New York in 1979. Through a program of 22 songs, Belt builds these peaks and dives into the valleys, bringing out the imagery of Don Black’s lyrics. By turns wry, sly and humorous, the songs give Emma such a winning personality we are eager to join her on this wild ride.

In the first song she anticipates joining her American boyfriend the musician. But before the song is over, those hopes are dashed and she’s moved in with a girlfriend.

Then she becomes involved with a Hollywood movie producer and zips off to Los Angeles. This sets the scene for the song with the best title, “Capped Teeth and Caesar Salad.” A better five-word description of Movieland would be hard to find.

After that heartbreak she returns to Greenwich Village, with true love still her intended destination. Now and then she’ll pause to write a letter home to Mum. These songs are like pop culture reports from abroad, filled with humorous observations about American men (“His idea of an evening/ is a picnic on the carpet”), eating in restaurants (why do they always say “Enjoy!”) and getting her immigration green card.

She wonders why every clerk says “Have a nice day,” and notes that “a lady shops ’til her chauffeur drops.” After the promise of fidelity turns out to be a false face once again, Belt gets to sing the show’s biggest number, the one most like a pop song hit – “Tell Me On A Sunday.” In the lyrics she pleads, if you are going to be giving me some bad news then tell me on a Sunday, in a park with lots of trees.

So we see that even when the prospect is sadness, Emma refuses to give up her romantic spirit. Unfortunately this spirit keeps getting her in trouble. Finally she begins to realize the importance of finding her own happiness. She will stop depending on a man to bring her a joyful life.

By the time Belt reaches that last song, she has survived so much bad luck and put her Humpty Dumpty heart back together so many times with such indomitable spirit, it’s a wonder the audience doesn’t rush the stage to give her a group hug. Actually, that’s a good idea. When you see “Tell Me On A Sunday” (and you should), encourage the group hug thing.

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IF YOU GO

What: Arizona Onstage Productions presents “Tell Me On A Sunday” by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Don Black

When: 8 p.m. Thursday-Saturday, 2 p.m. Sunday

Where: Cabaret Theatre in the Temple of Music and Art, 330 S. Scott Ave.

Price: $25 general admission, $22.50 students and seniors

Info: 882-6574, arizonaonstage.org

Grade: A

A young woman (Elizabeth Leadon) tries to convince her family she's dating a Jewish doctor (Chris Moseley, standing) in "Beau Jest."

Extend the lighthearted feeling of the holiday season a little longer by taking in “Beau Jest” at Live Theatre Workshop.

This frothy play by James Sherman is scarcely more than a TV sitcom, performed in three short acts with two intermissions – just like commercial breaks without the commercials.

The whole thing takes about two hours and leaves one feeling ready for a nightcap on the way home. Elizabeth Leadon and Chris Moseley maintain their comic spirit as the couple onstage who do most of the talking. They play Sarah, the Jewish daughter with two gentile boyfriends, and Bob the actor whose only connection to Judaism is touring for six months in “Fiddler on the Roof.” As playwright, Sherman has included lengthy references to a pair of Jewish holidays observed at the dinner table.

These special meals are family occasions and Sarah, being of marrying age, is supposed to bring home a nice Jewish boy to join the festivities. That’s the problem. she doesn’t know any nice Jewish boys.

Mom Miriam (Peg Peterson) has been nagging her daughter about it for so long, Sarah in self-defense started talking about her boyfriend, the Jewish doctor. There isn’t any such boyfriend, of course, so as the play opens Sarah has called an escort service to rent an amiable young man who looks Jewish.

Well, you know the saying – desperate times call for desperate measures. She absolutely can’t show up alone . . . again.

That escort is Bob the actor (Moseley), a man most eager to please. As Sarah quickly provides the back story – her doctor boyfriend’s name, the hospital where he works, etc. – Bob does his best to keep up.

The fun begins when Sarah’s parents arrive. They are played with believable chemistry by Peterson and Bill Epstein. These veteran LTW actors make earnest Miriam and grumpy Abe (Epstein) the kind of sweet-and-sour married couple that is a staple of sitcom television.

Joining them is suspicious Joel (Steve McKee), Sarah’s older brother. He’s a therapist and cynic who questions the faux doctor’s medical knowledge. That confrontation is good for another TV reference when Bob remembers details from some hospital shows. Director Leslie J. Miller applies an even hand to all this carrying on. It is the relaxed attitude of all the cast members that makes the production feel so amiable. Underacting is always preferred to overacting.

Moseley is particularly good as Bob, the guy caught in the middle of a love triangle as he struggles to keep up with the inside knowledge of Jewish ritual as practiced at home. Miriam and Abe don’t keep kosher, but they don’t appreciate being fooled by outsiders, either.

For an actor pretending to be an actor pretending to be a doctor, there are lots of sharp corners to avoid and curves to shoot through. Crisply calm, Moseley maintains an agreeable attitude that develops into a sympathetic stage presence.

Leadon is equally effective as the agitated straight person. She frets about all the conflicts and Moseley smooths them out as they head toward that happy ending. Just the kind of assurance that feels right these days when the phrase “Happy Holidays” has become the politically correct substitute for “Merry Christmas.”

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IF YOU GO

What: Live Theatre Workshop presents “Beau Jest” by James Sherman

When: 7:30 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays, 3 p.m. Sundays through Jan. 25

Where: Live Theatre Workshop, 5317 E. Speedway Blvd.

Price: $14-$17

Info: 327-4242, livetheatreworkshop.org

Grade: B

Ted Neeley, who played the title role in the original production and movie, stars in the Tucson show.

Ted Neeley is the headliner but the snappy chorus and some remarkable stage effects carry this tour of “Jesus Christ Superstar.”

The shadow-filled scenic design by Bill Stabile gives the Andrew Lloyd Webber-Tim Rice musical a properly mysterious spirituality that fits the time when the founding of a new religion had no tradition to back it at all.

We’ve gotten so used to the idea of a rock ‘n’ roll Jesus, it doesn’t sound the least bit disrespectful when the singers shout “Hey J.C., won’t you smile at me.” Quite a change from the shock waves through conservative Christianity when this musical first put the songwriting duo of Webber and Rice in the cross hairs of proper god-fearing folk.

That was 1971. A year later, Neeley portrayed Jesus in the first national tour of the controversial show. In 1973, the arc of his career was set when Norman Jewison picked Neeley for the title role in the movie adaptation. In the past 50 years of Broadway history, only a few performers have been so closely tied to a specific character as Neeley has been connected to Jesus.

Neeley’s appearance on this tour is largely symbolic. He has been playing Jesus for more years than the Son of God walked the earth. It is sweet to see Neeley in this showcase presented by Broadway in Tucson, but his presence feels smaller than life. While his narrow shoulders and mild manner seem to represent a Jesus who was meek and humble, more rock star attitude would have been appreciated.

Spontaneous applause was inspired by Neeley’s scream to climax the scene when he chases the moneychangers from the temple. But the show’s pivotal moment is in Act 2 in the Garden of Gethsemane when Neeley portrays the anguish of Christ as he agrees to accept the punishment of crucifixion.

Some members of the audience jumped to their feet after Neeley sank into despair anticipating the pain he could not avoid. It was the emotional peak of opening night.

Craig Sculli as Pontius Pilate nearly equaled that moment in his solo pleading with Jesus to save his own life. Barrel-voiced Darrell R. Whitney rattled the stage rigging on several occasions in the famously deep and intimidating bass solos Caiaphas sings throughout the show.

It is Mary Magdalene who gets to sing the love song that became a popular hit, “I Don’t Know How To Love Him.” Cristina Sass fills the part and makes the most of her opportunities. Although we feel Jesus has more of a paternal attitude toward this Mary, her affection has the physical ring of truth when she sings “I love him so.”

James Delisco as Judas doesn’t fare as well. He goes through a lot of tortured writhing around, but doesn’t have much impact.

What we remember, leaving the theater, is the power of the spirit the whole show creates in what is truly a group effort. Getting swept up in a rush of such songs as “Hosanna,” “Everything’s Alright,” “What’s the Buzz” and, of course, “Superstar,” is what makes the evening a success.

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IF YOU GO

What: Broadway in Tucson presents “Jesus Christ Superstar”

When: 7:30 p.m. Thursday, 8 p.m. Friday, 2 & 8 p.m. Saturday, 1 & 6:30 p.m. Sunday

Where: Tucson Music Hall, 260 S. Church Ave.

Price: $25-$60

Info: 903-2929, www.broadwayintucson.com

Grade: B

Joey Calveri (center) gives a standout performance as Berger, the magnetic leader of the play's tribe of hippies.

Arizona Theatre Company’s awesome production of “Hair” is not just a nostalgia trip. It is way more important.

As director, David Ira Goldstein has presented this iconic show from Gerome Ragni and James Rado, with music by Galt MacDermot, as one of pop culture’s classic achievements.

By believing every song and theatrical bit is worthy of serious artistic consideration, he embraces the endearing philosophy of optimistic young boomers who truly believed there was a better way. In the beginning, those who joined this Age of Aquarius only wanted to end the war and give everyone a place at America’s table of prosperity.

Plenty of mistakes were made, to be sure. And once conservatives began pushing society’s pendulum of conscience back to the right, all that exuberant hippie enthusiasm was just as enthusiastically condemned as godless pandering.

So watching “Hair” on opening night at the Temple of Music and Art, absorbing all the emotional triggers built into the vivid array of stage details and costumes, it is impossible not to be reminded today’s economy is collapsing. The conservatives, promising to save the nation from itself, have made lots of mistakes, too.

The show’s most encouraging moment comes early in the first act when Hud (Kyle Taylor Parker), flaunting his proud Afro hair and muscular brown body, proclaims “I am president of the United States. . .”

An eager audience went crazy with applause. There was instant recognition. Proof of triumph. A reminder that 40 years ago when “Hair” opened on Broadway, the idea that an African-American could be president was a joke. A bitter joke if you were one of the oppressed.

The rest of Hud’s line is, “I am president of the United States of Love,” which he repeated to more applause.

From that point on, “Hair” becomes a reminder not to forget the checklist of items still needing completion in a forgotten social agenda left out in the rain to melt away like the cake in “MacArthur Park.”

That song is not a part of this show, but there are plenty of others. The big hits are the show opening “Aquarius” and the poignant closer “Let the Sun Shine In.”

While most Broadway musicals have about 20 songs, “Hair” packs in 36 of them. The show is practically one continuous song. There is very little dialogue.

Early numbers flaunt their shock value, praising the rich variety of recreational drugs, and the equally varied ways to enjoy sex. There is also “Colored Spade,” a long list of demeaning names white people have called black people for centuries.

The search for love remains a popular subject throughout the show, as does the need for true equality. Ever since its New York opening in 1968, “Hair” has been seen as an anti-war declaration. The power in that message is saved for the end of Act Two.

While ATC is famous for putting on shows that look good, “Hair” is a cut above. Goldstein has blended the rapturously explosive choreography of Patricia Wilcox, the far-out scenic design of John Ezell and the fantasia of hippie costumes by Kish Finnegan into a wonderland of fermenting utopian desires.

Joey Calveri as Berger, the magnetic hedonist leader of this love tribe, also stands out. He has the presence, the intensity and talent to dominate his solo scenes on any stage.

The success of this show, however, is truly a group effort. In the spirit of the democratic philosophy it promotes, this cast of 21 singers and dancers is a show without stars. What you take away is the idealism and sincerity of the ’60s, streaked with the poignancy of misguided innocence. As the cast pleads at the end to “Let the Sun Shine In,” you will believe there is still time.

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IF YOU GO

What: Arizona Theatre Company presents “Hair” by Gerome Ragni, James Rado and Galt MacDermot

When: Various times Tuesdays-Sundays through Dec. 23

Where: Temple of Music and Art, 330 S. Scott Ave.

Price: $31-$69

Info: 622-2823, aztheatreco.org

Grade: A+

‘Hello, Bedford Falls’ among season’s greetings as Christmas classic takes the stage

Cast members of "It's a Wonderful Life: A Live Radio Play" all contribute sound effects.

Those dedicated to making Christmas a simpler celebration now have one more way to do it – by attending Waypoint Theatre Company’s production of “It’s A Wonderful Life: A Live Radio Play,” presented in company with Catalina Players.

Joe Landry’s stage adaptation of the Frank Capra film takes place on an elaborately designed theater set that actually looks like a radio station studio in the 1940s. Arlo Moeckly’s stage design is nicely complemented by Marc Sandin’s sound mixing.

All the radio actors and the announcer project big fat voices that emphasize their attention to elocution. If you love Garrison Keillor’s weekly radio show “A Prairie Home Companion” on National Public Radio, or enjoy recordings of the old-time radio broadcasts on KJLL (1330 AM), this is your kind of theater.

Melanie David, Waypoint’s founding artistic director, has assembled a remarkably talented cast of seven to create the voices of more than 50 characters. Short bursts of recorded orchestra music set the moods.

The role of the sound-effects man – always the most fun in any theatrical presentation of a radio drama – is a shared responsibility here. Cast members take turns rattling, shaking and scraping various objects to get the desired effect.

This being a live radio performance, precise timing is essential for the ear-cuing sounds. Waypoint’s actors had beautiful timing. It became as much fun to watch for the sound effects as to follow the story.

“It’s a Wonderful Life” comes to life in dialogue that must be close to the actual movie script. Sandin doubles as the voice of George Bailey, occasionally lapsing into Jimmy Stewart-like muttered phrases to capture the mounting frustrations in George’s life in 1930s Bedford Falls.

If you grew up watching the movie on a black-and-white TV at Christmastime, every scene onstage will feel familiar. You’ll be hearing the words and seeing the pictures flash across the movie screen in your mind.

It is an interesting experience. Just like how the words to popular songs you haven’t heard for 50 years still lurk in the dark folds of your brain tissue, so does George’s conversation with Clarence, the second-class angel only one good deed away from being promoted to first class and finally getting his wings.

The actors don’t wear costumes to identify with the characters they voice. That would take a lot of costume changes.

Instead, like the radio actors of yore, they come to the studio nicely dressed. As if listeners might actually catch a glimpse of their show by looking straight into the radio speaker.

Waypoint Theater is proud of its mission to present productions with a Christian world view. Perhaps it’s a sign of the times that we think of “It’s A Wonderful Life” as a secular movie. Yet, there is George having his prayers answered, with the help of an angel who wants wings.

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“It’s A Wonderful Life: A Live Radio Play”

What: Waypoint Theatre Company and Catalina Players present “It’s A Wonderful Life: A Live Radio Play” by Joe Landry

When: 7:30 p.m. Friday, 7 p.m. Saturday, 2 p.m. Sunday

Where: Academy Hall Theatre at Atria Bell Court Gardens, 6653 E. Carondelet Drive (behind St. Joseph’s Hospital)

Price: $12-$22 regular admission

Info: 616-8584, waypoint-theatre.org/tickets

Grade: B+

A mysterious blonde (Betsy Kruse Craig) enlists the help of detective Sam Galahad (Armen Dirtadian) in "Gunmetal Blues."

“Gunmetal Blues” rises out of the darkened Invisible Theatre stage as a 1930s nightclub gangster caper that’s four parts atmosphere and one part action, with a twist. Armen Dirtadian looks terrific as Sam Galahad, the well-dressed loser who’s old enough to know better but has never learned to resist.

Dirtadian is well-known around Tucson for his dashing roles as the broad-shouldered leading man at Gaslight Theatre, but is keeping his personality in the shadows here. He plays a private eye so down on his luck, no client is ever turned away from his tattered office.

Betsy Kruse Craig (another Gaslight star) steps into the IT spotlight as that tall blonde who doesn’t care how much trouble Sam gets sucked into. She also plays three other blondes with their own suspicious motives.

Taking on several additional roles is Mike Padilla, who mostly is Buddy Toupee, the tuxedo-clad piano man so cynical he’d be suspicious of Santa Claus. Occasionally Padilla jumps up to play a cop or a cab driver or something, filling out scenes the way he fills out the songs written by Craig Bohmler and Marion Adler.

Scott Wentworth gets the credit for dialogue that adds poetry to the hard-boiled writing style we associate with pulp fiction. Sam can tell the blonde is approaching by “the sound of expensive shoes on cheap linoleum.” She is an elegantly groomed executive working in an office tower that is “30 stories of greed under glass.”

Not long after asking “Where do they go, the dreams we’re always chasing?” Sam remembers how the blonde “was staring at her own face in the mirror, like she was asking for directions.”

There are plenty of songs, too, in this musical mystery romance – 17 of them, to be exact. The title track is strongest, “Gunmetal blues, the color of a bruise.” Most amusing is “The Blonde Song,” describing all the different kinds of blondes in the world, from the everyday bleached blonde to the extremely rare Schopenhauer blonde.

Unfortunately, we never learn exactly what a Schopenhauer blonde might be, but the image is terrific.

Gail Fitzhugh is at the helm as director, piloting this ship of fools through the straits of apprehension. She cleverly avoids the shallows of satire and the shoals of stereotype. Instead, the world of “Gunmetal Blues” becomes a kind of parallel universe where all the women are blonde and all the men wear trench coats because it’s always raining.

Craig is effective at giving each of the four females a distinctive personality. The program billing is confusing, though, because she is only listed as The Blonde. Buddy Toupee isn’t named, either. He’s just identified as The Piano Player.

This lack of identity is part of the fevered dream effect, where you aren’t supposed to be exactly sure what is going on. Basically, Sam gets a client, then there is a murder. The case gets complicated and the murder is solved.

Just don’t imagine the butler did it. In this smoky world of swirling desperation full of grasping hands and tense agendas, nobody’s got a butler. The only high-caliber character in this show is named Smith & Wesson.

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IF YOU GO

What: Invisible Theatre presents “Gunmetal Blues” by Scott Wentworth, Craig Bohmler and Marion Adler

When: 7:30 p.m. Wednesdays-Thursdays, 8 p.m. Fridays-Saturdays, 3 p.m. Sundays through Dec. 21

Where: Invisible Theatre, 1400 N. First Ave.

Price: $25-$27

Info: 882-9721, www.invisibletheatre.com

Grade: B