THEATER BEAT

Savvy screenwriter and script doctor William Goldman scored one of his early successes with his 1964 novel, “No Way to Treat a Lady,” in which the hag-ridden son of a famous actress tries to win his star mother’s posthumous approval by donning disguises and killing older women -- all stand-ins, of course, for his emotionally unavailable mommy.

The novel was adapted into a 1968 film, penned by Goldman and John Gay and starring Rod Steiger as Kit Gill, a wannabe actor turned killer, and George Segal as Moe Brummel, a downtrodden Jewish detective whose own mother gives him far too much attention, of the cloyingly intrusive kind.

It took Douglas J. Cohen to realize that the ideal medium for Goldman’s highly theatrical tale was the stage. Cohen’s 1987 musical, “No Way to Treat a Lady,” is an unabashedly histrionic romp with plenty of laughs, romance and a welcome abundance of drollery.

Unlike the film, which served as a star vehicle for Steiger, the musical is more of an ensemble piece that requires four dynamic performers to fill the bill.

That bill is indisputably replete in the Colony Theatre’s current production, which features a dream cast and a sound staging by directors West Hyler and Shelley Butler. Dean Mora, who helms the onstage combo, supplies the pitch-perfect musical direction.

The actors tread lightly over any minor glitches in the staging. The showiest role is, naturally, that of Kit, the murderous master of disguise, played here by the gifted Jack Noseworthy, who rips through his various personas with a no-holds-barred camp that spills over the proverbial footlights.

A close second, in terms of sheer comic campiness, is hilarious Heather Lee, whose half-dozen roles include all of Kit’s victims as well as Moe’s suffocating mother, Flora. More straightforward in tone is Moe’s Upper East Side society girlfriend, Sarah Stone, played by Erica Piccininni, a serviceably perky looker with the voice of an angel (although one wishes she had evinced a little more genuine terror when being menaced by the deranged Kit).

Yet it is Kevin Symons’ down-to-earth Moe who serves as the linchpin for the show. In an age of Method-driven bad boys, sheer affability is an elusive commodity. Symons is one of that rare breed, an actor who balances his considerable craft with immense likability.

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F. Kathleen Foley --

“No Way to Treat a Lady,” Colony Theatre, 555 N. 3rd St., Burbank. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 2 and 7 p.m. Sundays. Ends May 17. $37 to $42. (818) 558-7000, Ext. 15. Running time: 2 hours, 15 minutes.

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A house divided in Little Tokyo

As the country debates the efficacy of torture, Robey Theatre Company presents a timely history lesson in homeland security: “Bronzeville,” Tim Toyama and Aaron Woolfolk’s bittersweet drama set in the early 1940s, when Little Tokyo became a destination for blacks seeking wartime jobs in California.

The Goodwin family of Mississippi can scarcely believe the size and luxury of its new L.A. rental home when it’s hit with an even bigger shock: a starving Asian American hiding in the attic. Henry Tahara (Jeff Manabat) is the proud son of the home’s actual owner, Naoma Tahara (Dana Lee), who disappeared during the government’s roundup of prominent Japanese Americans after Pearl Harbor. A Berkeley graduate, Henry balks at the very idea of the internment camps. Jodie (Dwain A. Perry) refuses to harbor a fugitive, but Mamie Janie (CeCe Antoinette) will have none of that. After all, who more than Southern African Americans should understand the plight of a man on the run because of his ethnicity? Henry comes to live alongside the Goodwins, sharing gardening tips and a penchant for jazz. But when he and Jodie’s daughter, Princess (Candice Afia), fall in love, the family’s limits are tested.

Toyama and Woolfolk wryly evoke the moment-to-moment awkwardness of people pushed to the edge of their cultural and personal expectations. One hilarious scene has Jodie’s brother, Felix (Larry Powell), using a (real) Time magazine article to help Henry disguise himself as Chinese. (All the period details are finely conjured, from set designer J.P. Luckenbach’s impressive Mission home to Naila Aladdin Sanders’ costumes.)

Director Ben Guillory paces the show on the leisurely side but gives it a sense of elegance. A nightclub sequence is performed in slow-motion pantomime, like an Archibald Motley painting come to sensuous life. Even the choreography of the scene changes communicates a particular grace.

When the action leaves the house to involve the FBI, the play loses its way, becoming clumsy and overstated. But “Bronzeville” regains its footing in the last scene. Two very different cultures unite for a moment of prayer and mourning, the play’s final image a poignant reminder of how the freedoms we take so easily for granted are paid for in blood and tears.

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Charlotte Stoudt --

“Bronzeville,” the New Los Angeles Theatre Center, 514 S. Spring St., Los Angeles. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 3 p.m. Sundays. Ends May 17. $20-$30. (213) 489-0994, Ext. 107. Running time: 2 hours, 35 minutes.

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The tempting ‘Apple’ of love

Canadian playwright Vern Thiessen takes a stroll on the sentimental side in “Apple,” a West Coast premiere at Theatre 40. And although the going sometimes gets sticky, the destination affords a panoramic view of human relationships.

Albie Selznick plays Andy, a passive individual dominated by his high-powered Realtor wife, Evelyn (Ellyn Stern). When Andy is laid off from his job, his feelings of inadequacy make him vulnerable to the seductive wiles of sinuous Samantha (Carmit Levite). But Evelyn’s terminal cancer diagnosis proves transformative for the estranged couple. Andy’s sense of love and loyalty is rekindled, while Evelyn’s harsh dissatisfaction ebbs into mellow acceptance.

Certain visual clues indicate Thiessen’s allegorical intent. Note the shiny red apple hanging from the upstage tree of Jeff G. Rack’s scenic design. If that’s not enough, Christine Cover Ferro’s costume design places Samantha in a dress with a long train that is positively serpentine. (Get it?)

Rather than soft-selling Thiessen’s clunky themes, director Rachel Goldberg attacks them with a thudding conscientiousness that smacks of idiot-proofing. But if her staging is not subtle, it is effectively sincere. Selznick’s Andy progresses from passivity to passion to loving dutifulness, and Stern braces her potentially mawkish character with raw emotion. But it’s the sinuous Levite who proves a real scene-stealer, slinking around the stage like a biblical temptress from a miracle play. Benjamin Goldman contributes artful animation projections to this flawed but poignant parable.

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F. Kathleen Foley --

“Apple,” Theatre 40, 241 S. Moreno Drive, Beverly Hills. In repertory. See www.theatre40 .org for schedule. Ends May 24. $20 to $22. (310) 364-0535. Running time: 1 hour, 20 minutes.

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One-act ‘Knife’ has a dull edge

A random stabbing in a greasy spoon has unexpected consequences for attacker and victim in “Play With a Knife,” actor-playwright Zach Fehst’s impassioned if overreaching new existential one-act at Stages Theatre Center.

Like Edward Albee’s “The Zoo Story” and Jean-Paul Sartre’s “No Exit,” Fehst’s drama unfolds in a surreal mirrored version of the eatery where a disturbed nihilist, Evan (Fehst), has just murdered Michael (Dedalus Hyde), the divorced workaholic who accidentally bumped into him.

Michael understandably has sharp words of disapproval for Evan as the pair find themselves transported to an empty limbo on the border between being and nothingness. Under Heather Demetrios’ brisk staging, they launch into a cerebral dialogue on motive, responsibility and the search for meaning.

Seething with stereotypical angry-young-man contempt, Fehst’s Evan blames Michael and his generation for the mess they’ve left.

Other witnesses to the crime wander into this alternate reality to offer diverse perspectives: An old man (John C. McLaughlin) invokes appreciation for the beauty of experience, while a smug young couple (Laura Eichhorn, Sean Richter) keep topping each other’s carpe diem platitudes.

Hyde’s likable Michael offers the best rebuttal to Evan’s amoral relativism but more by way of demonstrated decency than argument. For all the earnestness and dramatic sharp edges, “Play With a Knife’s” derivative and predictable philosophical inquiries play more like a 2 a.m. dorm room debate.

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Philip Brandes --

“Play With a Knife,” Stages Theatre Center, 1540 N. McCadden Place, Hollywood. 8 p.m. Saturdays and Sundays. Ends May 31. $10 to $30 (pay what you can). (323) 636-9661. Running time: 1 hour, 10 minutes.

‘Dead’ stretches

it too thinly

In “Dead, Therefore I Am,” actor-writer-director Max Leavitt displays a plethora of resources in his multimedia look at a severe depressive facing 30. “Cerebral atavism” is how J.T. Blackwell (Leavitt) codifies his condition after his death, which may not be the suicide it appears.

The psychological term could account for his relationship with dog-headed Egyptian god Anubis (Nicholas Tucci) and the sadistic games he plays with J.T. from on high. However, it hardly explains kohl-eyed Sophie (Karen Jean Olds), J.T.’s childhood friend, whose nihilistic surface conceals all-too-human grievances.

Certainly, the opening, with silent-movie footage segueing into a faintly Sartre-flavored monologue from J.T.’s disembodied head, portends a vivid post-Expressionist mosaic. After the curtains reveal a grungy garage apartment (designed by Six14 Productions), highlights include J.T.’s thwarted suicide attempt in a wading pool, possibly imaginary absurdist doctors and/or dealers (Nicholas Vitulli) and the exposed motivation behind Sophie’s rants. References are as varied as Winston Churchill and the origins of the guillotine, and there’s evident intelligence to the designs and intent.

Yet whether this “goth-punk comedy” coheres into larger meaning is questionable. A gap exists between cause and effect, equally because of Leavitt wearing one too many hats, an overload of elements on an undersized canvas, and the recurring air of self-indulgence. “Dead” gets points for ambition, but its chief impression is that of a particularly ornate New York University master’s thesis project.

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David C. Nichols --

“Dead, Therefore I Am,” East Theatre at the Complex, 6468 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 3 p.m. Sundays. Ends May 24. $20. (323) 960-7714. Running time: 1 hour, 15 minutes.