Capsule Stage Reviews: April 17, 2014

 Anna Christie Eugene O'Neill's drama about seafaring men, and their women on shore, won the Pulitzer Prize in 1922, and a 2011 production in London won the Olivier Award as Best Revival. The play opens at a waterfront bar in New York City, with bartender Larry (Taylor Biltoft) serving drinks to Chris Christopherson (Carl Masterson) and his live-in girlfriend, Marthy Owen (Barbara Dell), as they discuss a planned visit from Christopherson's daughter, Anna (Kelly Walker), whom he has not seen for two decades. Later scenes take place on the barge on which Christopherson lives. The play's ongoing dynamic is confrontations, first between Chris and Marthy, then between Chris and Anna, then between Anna and Mat Burke (Brian Heaton), a shipwrecked sailor Chris rescues from sea, and finally between Chris and Mat. English is a second language for Chris, so his speech lacks eloquence, but this is made up for by Mat, who is Irish, since his flow of words has the lilt of Irish music. The growth of Mat's relationship with Anna is the heart and soul of the play, but Anna has some experiences in her past that may prove to be a deal-breaker. Walker as Anna is magnificent, giving us toughness and vulnerability, and providing the good looks the script demands. Heaton as Mat creates a human being pulsing with vibrant life, fighting for happiness with determination and courage. Masterson successfully captures the self-deception and timidity of Chris. Dell as Marthy appears only in the first scene, but generates excitement in a vivid role, and Biltoft is excellent as Larry, listening as skillfully as he speaks. Lisa Schofield directed with intelligence and pace, and found the rhythm of the sea and the throbbing insecurities and desperate human needs O'Neill's genius has given us. Don't miss this. Through May 3. Theatre Southwest, 8944-A Clarkcrest, 713-661-9505. — JJT

Communicating Doors On the modern British stage there are three old masters: Harold Pinter, Tom Stoppard and Alan Ayckbourn. Pinter spins pauses into taut existential thrillers; Stoppard spins words into new worlds; Ayckbourn literally spins doors into plays. His Communicating Doors (1994), a comedy thriller sandwiched somewhere between a good episode of Twilight Zone and a not-so-naughty sitcom like Three's Company, receives a refreshing spin in the Alley's current production. Sir Alan is England's master at tweaking the tweedy middle class and sending his hapless characters spinning out of control, usually not knowing how to stop the chaos they've created for themselves. Thoroughly ingenious in his plotting, he loves playing with time and multiple settings, or, as here, multiple time in a single setting. An Ayckbourn play is always clever and entertaining. For all its professional polish and sleight of hand, Doors is clever, if somewhat on the thin side. Dominatrix "Poopay" (Julie Sharbutt in a thoroughly delightful Alley debut), sweet and rather out of her element, arrives at the hotel suite of rich geezer Reece (Jeffrey Bean) toting a bag full of her toys of the trade. The jangling that emanates from the satchel is funny in itself. But old Reese doesn't want her companionship; he wants her to witness his dying confession. He wants to come clean after a lifetime of embezzlement, securities fraud and other assorted very bad deeds, which include the murders of his two former wives. His business partner, Julian (James Black in creepy mode that he does so well), who has mother issues, has committed the crimes at his behest, and when he discovers that Poopay now has the goods on him, plans to do her in also. (Only Black could carry a pillow to the sofa on which she sits with such chilling menace.) That's when Poopay bolts into the closet — that "communicating door" of the title — and, whoosh, magically goes back 20 years in time, finding herself in that same hotel suite. And who might be staying there but Reese's second wife, Ruella (Josie de Guzman in full daffy frontal assault). Ayckbourn's plot clicks wondrously into place like an intricate Swiss lock. Feisty and good, Ruella seizes the opportunity to save first wife Jessica (Melissa Pritchett), saving herself in the process and perhaps keeping Poopay out of harm's way, too. It's the women against the men in this gentle but serious race against time past. An added bonus in the controlled mayhem is Todd Waite as the prim and officious hotel security guard we meet through the decades. Linda Buchanan's swanky hotel set (the city background projections change according to the decade, while the paintings in the room transform) and Michael Lincoln's mood lighting add to the pleasure of Ayckbourn's sci-fi time-shifting. If there's a theme to be gleaned, it's that one good deed, no matter how impetuous or incidental, can possibly change the course of one's life. One just has to grab the chance. Ayckbourn keeps the surprises coming, using a pro's sense of how to delicately balance comedy and suspense. The whole thing sort of works, but it's a little like having high tea at a faded English seaside hotel. The staff works overtime to be solicitous, but the food's a bit ordinary. Except for one physical comedy sequence that absolutely falls flat — Ruella dangles from her balcony while Poopay and Jessica attempt to pull her in — director Boyd has fun with the revolving-door concept and quick entrances. While De Guzman plays the adventure a bit too daft and wide-eyed, the comedy belongs to Sharbutt, who is delightfully dotty and inept as a would-be seducer, and vulnerable and cuddly as the newest victim. Doors spins with a constant smile. The play doesn't really go anywhere, but the bright and shiny mechanics send off sparks of fun. And onstage, that's always worth seeing. Through April 27. 615 Texas, 713-220-5700. — DLG

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