Matter of Honor

Pasadena Playhouse
39 S. El Molino Ave., Pasadena
Through Sept. 30
Tuesday-Friday 8 p.m., Saturday 4 p.m. & 8 p.m., Sunday 2 p.m. & 7 p.m.
Tickets: $40-60
www.pasadenaplayhouse.org

Dramas about scandalous issues of institutionalized bigotry in the U.S. Armed Forces always carry the potential for heated controversy. There are strong and often widely opposing views by people on all sides of such issues. Plays have included Michael Norman Mann’s Box 27, examining the effects of President Clinton’s “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy regarding gays in the military. In the extraordinary 1995 TV movie Serving in Silence, Glenn Close played Colonel Margarethe Cammermeyer, the decorated and honored Chief Nurse for the Washington State National Guard, who fought to regain her post after being discharged when she admitted she was a lesbian. One hears less about the matter of racial discrimination in our military organizations, so Matter of Honor, Michael J. Chepiga’s debuting play about a little-known dark chapter in the history of West Point Academy, whets one’s appetite with its tantalizing dramatic possibilities. Unfortunately, the new piece—half courtroom mystery, half social-issue drama—is an admirably intended, but ultimately problematic examination of historical events of the 1880s that still remain shrouded in uncertainty.

The play’s depiction of racism at all levels of the military bureaucracy and the covering up of a scandalous incident suggest an unflattering portrait of our Armed Forces, yet the play hints that the alleged victim of a hate crime—African-American cadet Johnson Whittaker (Cedric Sanders)—possibly had a hand in his own undoing. The playwright’s point of view and purpose are clouded in a script that fails to establish coherent character motivations and an overall clarity of themes. Director Scott Schwartz helms a handsomely staged production, bolstered by strong performances, providing partial compensation in this earnest but dramaturgically diffuse new work.

Chepiga’s fact-based story, which takes dramatic liberties, is set at the military academy at West Point in New York, between 1890-1892, considering the after-effects of the brutal beating and torture of Whittaker, the only black cadet at the institution at the time. In advancing the possibly trumped-up theory that Whittker inflicted the injuries on himself to elicit sympathy after being subject to management-condoned ostracism, the script offers no conclusive solution. Though an enigmatic approach might be viable, it’s not clear exactly what the playwright is trying to communicate. Chase (Eric Lutes), a composite private detective character based on several real-life investigators, is seeking answers for Gen. Schofield (Richard Doyle). Chase’s alcoholic character epitomizes the moral confusion that permeates the play. His initial attempt to nail Whittaker leads to a subsequent change of heart. Or does it?

The nine-member cast is generally solid. As an idealistic old-guard leader, Doyle offers a finely nuanced portrait of misguided military pride. As a suspect of the attack, Steve Coombs excels in a chilling portrait of the dark side of Southern gentility and Sanders shines as the emotionally tortured odd-man-out, desperately trying to realize a dream seldom available to his culture. Pasadena Playhouse’s world-premiere rendition is an honorable mounting of a flawed but worthwhile work that would benefit from more time on the burner. —Les Spindle

Avenue Q

Ahmanson Theatre
135 N. Grand Ave.
Los Angeles
Through Oct. 14
Tuesday-Friday 8 p.m., Saturday 2 p.m. & 8 p.m., Sunday 1 p.m. & 6:30 p.m.
Tickets: $45-90
www.centertheatregroup.org

Three years after beating out the theatrical juggernaut of Wicked for the coveted best musical Tony Award, Avenue Q, the little musical that could, is finally making its Los Angeles premiere in a tight, polished and—pardon the pun—wickedly funny touring production at the Ahmanson Theatre.

Set in the fictionally far reaches of Manhattan’s Alphabet City, Avenue Q mixes humans with muppet-like puppets to introduce us to a band of 20-somethings struggling to survive in the Big Apple. The first scene’s “It Sucks To Be Me” sets the hilariously subversive tone for the evening, with the street’s ragtag residents lamenting their unrealized dreams and overdrawn bank accounts.

Wide-eyed recent grad Princeton—one of the puppets—is the newest arrival on Avenue Q. He quickly meets the sweet young teacher’s aide, Kate Monster, and two human neighbors, stand-up comic wannabe Brian (Cole Porter) and Christmas Eve, his Japanese fiancée with a side-splittingly funny Asian accent (Angela Ai). Soon after, Princeton meets the Ernie-and-Bert-like roommates Nicky, the sloppy straight one, and Rod, the uptight, closeted gay Republican.

The show’s principal plot line is Princeton’s search for a purpose. Along the way there are hookups, marriages, arguments and reconciliations, all happening amid songs with titles like “The Internet Is for Porn,” “Everyone’s a Little Bit Racist” and “If You Were Gay,” Nicky’s comically clumsy attempt to let Rod know it’s OK to come out.

Along with countless belly laughs, some outrageous puppet sex and a score of hummably silly tunes, Avenue Q is surprisingly moving. Without ever taking itself too seriously, the show manages to tackle issues of racism, homophobia, loneliness and community with heartfelt power. And the characters’ examinations of life’s delights and disappointments have a stealthy power that sneaks up on you behind a deceptive sheen of silliness.

The cast in this touring production is excellent, with Robert McClure doing exemplary double duty handling Princeton and Rod, and Kelli Sawyer scoring two puppet knockouts as the dowdy Kate Monster and the seductive cabaret chanteuse, Lucy the Slut.

Director Jason Moore stages the proceedings with an appropriately swift pace and inventive wit, and Anna Louizo’s set has a pitch-perfect Sesame Street slumminess.

The best news of all is that the book by Jeff Whitty and songs by Robert Lopez and Jeff Marx have a clever originality—a commodity in short supply in today’s climate of increasingly derivative and corporate-produced musical theater.

Avenue Q provides hope for the genre even as it leaves us laughing long and hard. —Christopher Cappiello