By Sarika Chawla

Pot Mom
Third Stage Theatre
2811 Magnolia Blvd., Burbank
Through April 1
Thursday-Saturday 8 p.m.
Tickets: $20
(818) 842-4755

While Showtime's Weeds has made selling pot a noble matriarchal profession, Justin Tanner's Pot Mom attempts no such thing. There is no hint of nobility in the exploits of a strung-out mom who tries to hold together her dysfunctional family, but it sure does give us the giggles. Much of the cast from the original 1994 run has returned (Tanner directs as usual) and it is apparent that they love this play as much as audiences do, which may be what gives it that extra-special edge.

Ellen Ratner stars as Patty, the mom in question, though her title is somewhat misleading. She's not selling the pot, it's her live-in boyfriend Richard (Jon Palmer); she just reaps the benefits, as do her three 20-something kids. Ratner gets the short end of the attention stick because of co-star Laurie Metcalf's recognizable name, but the two of them together make an unbeatable team. Already toking up at 10 a.m., the childhood friends lament how life's issues keep interrupting their quality hang-out time. Once they've smoked enough weed to kill an elephant, they decide that everything basically fell apart when they first got boyfriends, circa 20 years earlier. Metcalf, with teased hair and heavily charcoaled eyes, seems entirely bored by life but too lazy to make things better; Ratner is adorable as a middle-aged woman who prides herself on being laid back and cool, but secretly longs for simpler times.

Conflict arises when we meet the vilified boyfriend Richard, who it turns out supports the entire family despite the fact that all three of his girlfriend's kids hate him. It's a surprisingly complex role, made even more so by Palmer's dignified portrayal of the character. It would have been easy to interpret him straightforwardly as a rough redneck, entirely unsympathetic so that we'd want him to leave as much as the kids do. Instead, he comes across somewhat more heroic -- just a guy who wants to make a life with his girlfriend. But when the kids get in the way, it makes for some hilarious battles between the two generations of serious dope smokers. Todd Lowe plays Troy, who directs his anger toward Richard, unless he's smoked enough to chill himself out; Victoria Prescott is Lisa, the seemingly selfish, lascivious girl who turns out to have some real street smarts; Tate Hanyok is poor Lorraine, the geeky sister who would like nothing more than to trade in her family for a much classier one.

The plot development of Pot Mom is rather minimal, with very little growth in any of the characters and just a couple of twists thrown in for good measure. There is plenty of pot humor, and both stoners and abstainers will be in on the jokes. But what makes Pot Mom so much more than just a Cheech and Chong-esque marijuana farce is that each of these characters is so darned likeable and their conflicts transcend the drug thing. Not only does this offbeat family love each other, but we're all rooting for them to pull through, even while they're just hanging out onstage jonesin' for their next fix.

Scenes from an Execution
Unknown Theater
1110 N. Seward St., L. A.
Through April 1
Thursday-Saturday 8 p.m., Sunday 6 p.m.
Tickets: $18-$24
(323) 466-7781
www.UnknownTheater.com

It's always satisfying to see a period piece that could just as easily take place in modern times. Howard Barker's Scenes from an Execution, set in the 17th century, asks the age-old question of whether an artist has a social responsibility to make the truth be known, or if truth is only in the eye of its beholder. When war is the subject in question, this argument becomes even more volatile, as everyone has their own stake in what is the definition of truth. If the public could just see the real devastation of war, could they stand for any more, or hold their political leaders in the same esteem? Scenes from an Execution only serves to remind us that this question has been asked repeatedly over the centuries, with no clear answer ever determined.

Once again, director Chris Covic leads Unknown Theater with an unwavering vision. Every nuance of this play is deliberate, from the bleak, dim lights to the stark, expansive stage that is dominated by a huge scaffolding to hold a blank canvas. Tia Odiam is Galactia, the artist who has been commissioned by the Venetian government to paint the battle of Lepanto. The expectation is that the enormous mural will depict only heroes and villains, but she is driven to paint the true bloody horrors of war. Although she appears to be about 10 years too young for this role, Odiam is captivating as Galactia. She tackles the passionate artist with a sort of brawny arrogance, ensuring that all eyes are always on her. What's most appealing on Odiam's part is that she doesn't try to command total sympathy, but showcases Galactia as being a rather irritating individual -- passion is commendable, but who hasn't groaned at the artist who chronically laments her pain and persecution?

Despite her unwavering conviction, Galactia finds that she has personal battles to contend with: Her long-suffering daughters and studio assistants Dementia (Tara Jean O'Brien) and Supporta (Jill Fouts) find that they can no longer blindly support her, while her weak-willed young lover (Eric Michael Halderman) is envious of her success. The art critic (Maia Guest) has the job of "grasping at the windpipe of expression" and makes Galactia fully aware that no victor can emerge in the battle between art and politics. Things really start to fall apart for the artist when an offended administration overcompensates for its embarrassment by doling out a heavy punishment. But just as opinions can never be fixed, the perception of the art and the artist's place in society is proven to be a fluid entity. The ensemble cast is uniformly cohesive, demonstrating that this theater group has jelled to the point of polished precision, so we can be sure that Unknown Theater is unlikely to maintain such a moniker for much longer.