10th Annual Festival of Originals "Original" is one way to describe producer Mimi Holloway's evening of one-acters, but then, so would "great time" and "surprisingly good." These brand-new plays run the gamut. There's the strangely bizarre (Kathleen Merritt's Under the Oleanders). There's the somewhat familiar, as in a lost Alfred Hitchcock Presents episode (George Rapier's The Sketch), a whimsical Twilight Zone story (Dennis Jones's Judgment Day at the Whistling Pig) and a sweet, in-your-face take on Coward's bickering ghost comedy Blithe Spirit (John Bohane's The Anniversary Gift). And then there's the fascinatingly quirky and just really good (John Kaiser's Instant Messaging). Stunningly directed by Mack Hays, Messaging takes the prize, if one were given. Vapid slacker Campbell (Brian Heaton), a victim of cell phone over-usage, happens upon a flyer for a new, experimental message chip that's implanted in your brain, resulting in truly hands-free communication. "That's so cool," he whoops to best bud Syncho (Nathan Suurmeyer), "it'll be like having super powers." Creepy Dr. Basil (Jay Menchaca, with Joan Crawford-esque painted eyebrows) and equally creepy Nurse Rosemary (Tina Samuelsen Bauer, with whispery, conspiratorial voice) set implanted Campbell loose to pursue superficial party girl Magnesia (Claire Hunt), the girl of his desires. At first he's cock of the walk as the only person at the bar without a phone, but soon his head-phone is ringing non-stop with spam, promo calls and numerous wrong numbers. The constant interruptions drive him crazy, and he takes drastic action trying to get "off-line." So much happens in so little time, you'd swear this is a full-length play; it's that rich. Gift (with John Biondi's delightfully flummoxed geezer, who's ordered a prostitute for the express purpose of giving him a heart attack) and Judgment Day (in which Satan and God must talk the grouchy accountant-like Grim Reaper out of doing away with young Bob, who's been inadvertently placed on his death list) are equally cream. Through August 11. Theater Southwest, 8944-A Clarkcrest, 713-661-9505. — DLG
Tuna Does Vegas It's somewhat less than hilarious to see what those two wily stage magicians, Joe Sears and Jaston Williams (abetted by co-writer/director Ed Howard) have in store for the inhabitants of Tuna, Texas, our state's third-smallest town, when they pack all the inhabitants off to Sin City for this world premiere two-man show. Our loopy favorites are pretty much front and center (sweet and crafty Aunt Pearl, gun-totin' Didi Snavely, man-hungry Inita and Helen from the Tastee Kreme, pinched Vera Carp, P.E.T.A.-obsessed Petey Fisk, et al.), but so are a few new crazies, with cheapo Vegas impresario and female lounge lizard Anna Conda leading the pack, and two Elvis impersonators right behind. These new faces are welcome additions indeed and nailed by Sears and Williams with the patented pinpoint accuracy and gently biting satire that's a hallmark of their Tuna franchise (Greater Tuna, Tuna Christmas, Red, White, and Tuna), but Vegas, for its many charms and belly laughs, treads water. Too many scenes lack focus or simply meander until a snazzy punch line pricks us awake. And the guys' split-second costume changes (the two actors play all the characters) have slowed down a bit, which may be nothing more than backstage mishaps, but the sluggishness also shows up in the script. Although this is the weakest Tuna of the four, there are enough laughs to compensate for the storyline. Just to see Didi Snavely dragging on a cigarette like it's life support, or sweet Bertha exposing herself to a water pistol-packing Arles, or Aunt Pearl and Vera scrambling for the winning coins that spew out of a slot machine are enough reasons to drive to Galveston, where these large-hearted Tuna cartoons are amply displayed. Through August 19. The Grand 1894 Opera House, 2020 Postoffice St. in Galveston, 409-765-1894. — DLG