Wit

Chandler Studio Theatre
12443 Chandler Blvd., NoHo
Friday-Saturday 8 p.m., Sunday 3 p.m.
Through Feb. 16
Tickets: $22
www.theprodco.com

Margaret Edson’s Pulitzer-winning drama is as memorable for the gorgeous lyricism and heartrending power of its text as for the one-of-a-kind vehicle it offers for an actress capable of unearthing its riches. Director Robert Mammana and actress Karesa McElheny lend their shimmering talents to this exquisite production, and the result resembles a fresh and vibrant revisit to a cherished friend.

The framing device for the story is a first-person account from Dr. Vivian Bearing (McElheny), a devoted English literature professor, of her experiences being diagnosed as in the final stage of metastatic ovarian cancer, and the subsequent futile battle to save her life through experimental chemotherapy treatments. It’s a story of dignity and courage in the face of ultimate fear and horror, and McElheny skillfully conveys the lighthearted, detached attitude that Vivian shows to the audience—as well as to other characters—shaded by the fear, despair and physical torment that are initially behind her jovial façade, ultimately surfacing as her condition deteriorates. The beautifully literate script expresses the humanity of her journey through the soaring passages of 17th-century poetry that are a part of the text. Out of the opportunity to sit and ponder the pluses and minuses of one’s lifetime, the friendless loner Vivian has a chance to reflect on how she immersed herself into her career, as her intellectualism became a shield to the risks of human interaction. At the same time, it is her love of language and poetic art that provide uplift during the darkest days of her life.

The resplendent McElheny is supported by a first-rate supporting cast of six. Mammana’s assured work with the actors and staging of scenes is enhanced by the contributions of August Viverito’s stark yet aesthetically perfect set and lighting designs and Stephen McGuiness’ fine costumes. This grade-A production is one the year’s first must-see attractions. —Les Spindle

Queen Christina Goes Roman

The Complex
6476 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood
Thursday-Friday 8 p.m., Sunday 7 p.m.
Through Feb. 18
Tickets: $20
www.complexhollywood.com

Howard Casner’s ambitious fantasia is a big and boisterous farce that brings important historical figures from various eras together in a deliberately ambiguous time period. Or is it an angry political treatise reflecting on the detrimental—sometimes even tragic—consequences of homophobia that’s mandated by governmental and religious bodies? Therein lies the problem. Satire can be dead-serious at its core, of course, and comedy can become tragicomic when tonal shifts are meticulously dovetailed. But when the first act is dominated by over-the-top campy shtick and the second act abruptly shifts to overwrought proselytizing and histrionics, what we get is dramaturgic goulash.

Casner’s premise is fascinating, and the script occasionally makes powerful thematic points. But it’s so unwieldy and verbose that waiting for the flashes of brilliance becomes a chore. Adding to the problems on opening weekend were lapses in energy and focus. The static and sometimes claustrophobic staging of co-directors Chrisanne Blankenship–

Billings and Thomas Colby leads to ponderous proceedings, doing little to compensate for the script’s excesses. Some character interactions had a distracted and mechanical air.

As for the complex story: Sweden’s Queen Christina (1626-1689—played by Julie Burrise), who history tells us was a tomboy and a bisexual, wants to abdicate her throne, join the Catholic Church, and proudly reveal to the world that she’s in love with a singing nun (Konima Parkinson-Jones). Her supposed friend, Pope Julius II (1443-1513), played by Donald Smyth as a hypocritical closeted queen, connives to convince Christina to remain in the closet. Joining the fray are flamboyant King Edward II (1284-1327—played by Mikhail Blokh); closeted composer Peter Tchaikovsky (1842-1893—played by Gregory Blair), closeted McCarthy-era witch hunter Roy Cohn (1927-1986—played by Colby) and the Pope’s screaming-queen lover, fictional Father Sebastian (Levy Baguin). If that sounds like a lot to chew on, it is—two and a half hours’ worth. The modern references to the likes of Madonna alongside cultural icons like Picasso are amusing anachronisms, in a simplistic Flintstones kind of way, and the gags about celebrity worship cleverly transcend any particular time period. Even the bawdy gay jokes—such as the pope playing with his scepter while turning descriptions of almost everything into phallic fantasies—offer some chuckles, until they turn into overkill and begin to all sound the same. But by the time we segue to Shakespearean tragedy after the intermission—highlighted by Edward II and his lover Gaveston’s doomed romance—we have the feeling we have sat through two or three vastly different plays, each of them too long. There’s the kernel of a terrific play behind all of the disparate parts, and we hope to one day to see it reshaped into a smoothly integrated whole. —L.S.