Circus Welt

Whitefire Theatre
13500 Ventura Blvd., Sherman Oaks
Sun., 2:30 and 7:30 p.m.
Through Feb. 14
Tickets $15-25
theatermania.com

Watching writer-director-producer Pavel Cerny’s liberal adaptation of Leonid Andreyev’s 1914 Russian play He Who Gets Slapped, I was reminded of Ernst Lubitsch’s darkly comedic 1942 film To Be or Not to Be, as well as its worthy 1984 Mel Brooks remake. Both stories share a startling juxtaposition of moods, in which the terror of Nazi oppression slowly rears its ugly head. Both revolve around performing arts troupes (a traveling circus in Circus Welt, and a roving theater company in To Be). Both illuminate discrimination against gays among the agenda items of the ruthless Third Reich. And both are driven by the age-old irony of comedy’s close kinship to tragedy—the surreal, almost frightening subtext behind the grotesque countenance of a circus clown.

I haven’t seen He Who Gets Slapped (neither its stage version nor its 1924 MGM film adaptation), though I’m aware the story took place in France. Cerny’s version takes us right to the center of conflict—Nazi-occupied Germany in 1933—which puts an ominous political spin on the narrative. A generally superb cast and Cerny’s smart and sensitive direction yield a cerebral and moving experience, transporting us to an intriguing world in which joy and anguish are in constant conflict. Cerny has a flair for the theatrical and his production captures this classic tale’s mythic quality.

The focal character, who initially prefers to be known only as “He” (Joshua Grenrock), has endured rough breaks in life, and decides to join the circus as a clown, hoping to escape his troubles. He takes on the name “He Who Gets Slapped,” symbolizing the way life has buffeted him about, and having to do with the physical abuse he takes in the comedic routines. Grenrock is superbly affecting, eliciting our empathy as the ill-fated novice clown. John Moskal, as the circus manager, Papa Bricke, brings plenty of zest to his colorful role. Among other standouts in the large cast are Stephanie T. Keefer as the lion tamer attempting to hide her Jewish ethnicity from the Nazis and Lee Biolos and Justin Hertner as gay lovers who cavort in slapstick routines as the lead clowns. It’s not surprising when they ultimately fall victim to persecution. Some roles are portrayed less convincingly, though the overall ensemble effort is strong. Salutes are due for Matthew Morgan’s remarkable clown choreography and Shayla Kundera’s marvelous costumes. The production is briskly atmospheric and quite thought-provoking. —Les Spindle

An Oak Tree

Odyssey Theatre
2055 Sepulveda Blvd., L.A.
Wed.-Fri. 8 p.m., Sat. 2 and 8 p.m., Sun. 2 p.m.
Through Feb. 14
Tickets $30
odysseytheatre.com

There are many plays that stretch the boundaries of theatrical conventions to challenge the performers and the audience. That said, the endlessly peculiar yet fully gripping An Oak Tree, now in its L.A. premiere, almost belongs in a genre of its own. British writer-performer Tim Crouch wrote the piece and plays one of its two characters, a stage hypnotist who accidentally ran over and killed a young girl. From the beginning, Crouch, who projects the charisma of a carnival barker, plays tricks with the fourth wall, blurring the line between reality and fiction. Ostensibly soliciting a volunteer from the Odyssey audience (representing a fictional audience at a British pub) to participate in his hypnosis act, Crouch accepts the offer of one patron to join him on stage. Ironically, it turns out the volunteer is the father of the deceased child.

Even more oddly, the volunteer is not a volunteer at all, but an actor. At each performance, a different guest actor—male or female—appears in the father role, including an occasional famous name. Multitalented Dan O’Connor, co-founder of Impro Theatre, played the role at the reviewed performance, and his skills as an impov artist paid off handsomely. The show is completely scripted, but it’s tailor-made for spontaneity. The guest actor for each show arrives only an hour before curtain, completely unfamiliar with the play. Following an hour of going over the basics with Crouch, the actor goes onstage, using a script when needed.

What follows works on so many levels, it’s dizzying. Part psychodrama, part absurdist puzzler, part metaphysical reverie and part theatrical gimmick, the play prompts us to look at supposed reality through a number of different lenses. When we watch any sort of play, we suspend disbelief to tune into the emotional and intellectual truths in the story and characters. Here, the presentation is filtered by multiple variables—Crouch feeding direction to O’Connor onstage; O’Connor finding and projecting the essence of his character on the fly; and Crouch continually reminding us we are an audience viewing a play.

Consequently, this is as much a heart-wrenching portrait of grief as it is a glimpse into the complexities of our life experiences—the role-playing that makes up our lives and the myriad ways we can assimilate what we observe. Crouch’s portrayal is electrifying—at once menacing and reassuring, and O’Connor’s on-the-spot efforts were nothing short of remarkable. If you’re tired of formulaic fare, take a risk and catch this truly exceptional production. —L.S.