By Sarika Chawla

Sordid Lives

Zephyr Theatre
7456 Melrose Ave., L.A.
Through April 23
Tuesday and Friday 8 p.m., Sunday 7 p.m.
Tickets: $25-45
(818) 415-0113
www.seasonofshores.com

If Del Shores were to accomplish only one thing in his career, it would be to assure his audiences that no family could be as endearingly dysfunctional as the ones he puts on stage. Fortunately for him, he's achieved this plus a whole lot more, and Sordid Lives is proof positive. As it nears the end of its run in the Zephyr Theatre's "A Season of Shores," this production doesn't have all the star power that it did earlier on, but the ensemble cast seems to remain just as tightly knit and committed to the story. And Shores, who also directs, has a knack for finely wrought dialogue and laugh-out-loud humor so that the language becomes the real star of the show.

With the scent of fried chicken and apple pie in the air, Sordid Lives transports its audiences to Texas, circa 1998, where bigotry is in full force and appearances mean everything, but the meaning of family still triumphs over all. In a play that's filled with brightly colored characters and a series of impossible events, Shores does well to open it with a gentle narration by Ty (Jason Dottley), who is talking to his therapist about being gay. Even though he's now far from Texas, he remains in the closet for the sake of his acting career, but it's really his fear of his family that put him there in the first place. No one can blame him-after all, his grandmother had his uncle, Brother Boy, (Craig Taggart), committed for being gay with a penchant for dressing up as Tammy Wynette.

In this performance, Scott Presley, better known around town as the hostess of Legendary Bingo, Bel Aire, slipped into his drag shoes to play the role of Sissy Hickey, Ty's aunt. She is a respectable Texas matron overwhelmed by nicotine withdrawal when her sister Peggy died in a freak accident after having sex with their neighbor's husband. Presley has an uncanny ability to actually transform into a woman, without having to rely on any of the draggy stereotypes. He takes over this part seamlessly, maintaining Sissy's role as the straight man (pun intended) to all the chaos that unfolds around her.

The first whirling dervish of instability comes from Noleta (Patrika Darbo), whose husband GW (Mitch Carter) was the lover whose misplaced wooden legs caused Peggy's demise. Next up are prim little Latrelle (Mary-Margaret Lewis) and her brassy sister LaVonda (Ann Walker), Peggy's daughters whose viewpoints clash on everything from whether it's appropriate to bury their mother in a mink stole during a heat wave, to whether homosexuality is truly a sin.

When we finally get to meet the legendary Brother Boy, he's dressed to the nines in full Tammy gear, trapped in the institution by his ambitious therapist (Susan Leslie) who tries everything in her power to de-gay him. While Taggart handles the flamboyant role admirably (it was originally played by Leslie Jordan), it does feel like he's so focused on being divalicious that some crucial vulnerability is missing. But hey, if drag is your thing, "Season of Shores" aims to please -- on April 18 there will be a one-night-only all-drag performance of Sordid Lives that is sure to be a crowd pleaser. -- Sarika Chawla

The Playground

Deaf West Theatre
5112 Lankershim Blvd., N. Hlywd.
Through May 6
Wednesdays-Saturdays 8 p.m.
Tickets: $20-25.
(800) 595-4849
www.theplaygroundlive.com

You have to give Michael Justen credit for being original. His writing and direction of The Playground is truly one-of-a-kind. Few theatrical pieces focus so vividly on the number of youth living on the streets of L.A. and the harsh realities they face. Billed as a rock drama, with music by Beth Heart, Gunner Wright, and Sebastian Sage, The Playground centers on the stories of 11 inner-city street teens, most of them runaways, and the world of sex, hustling, cutting, and drugs that engulfs them. The topic is ambitious and in order to work theatrically, the piece should be one step ahead of the audience and presented with a vibrating energy so it doesn't turn into an after-school special. Justen is only half successful here, never bringing the evening out of its self-wallowing pity.

The male characters, specifically, seem one-dimensional and incomplete. Hayden, played by Justen, comes across as homophobic and unsympathetic throughout the whole piece. The pimp, Ash, played by Gunner Wright, never quite rises to the gritty task of representing a true pimp. His vulnerability does not match his character's persona. The exception is, Brandon, played sensitively by a handsome Joe Borgogna, who was thrown out on the street for being gay and ends up performing sexual favors on random men for money. When things get tough, he tends to take a razor to his wrist. His character is the only one with a true arc in the piece.

The females are the powerhouses, no doubt. Ginny Jones scores as Luka, a naïve, Southern girl who falls prey to drugs. Her raw intensity and belty voice carry the piece. Tania Verafield's portrayal of Nikki, a wisecracking "daddy's little girl" with a quiet vulnerability, is a true highlight. Joann Socrates' quiet performance as Tori, a pregnant addict who must make sacrifices for her baby, brings some much needed heart to the evening. Erica Katzin as Sera does not come off as strong as the others because it's not quite clear what her actual struggle is.

Unfortunately, though it's a rock drama, the music seems unnecessary. It rarely evokes feeling and slows down the momentum of the well-written scenes, which are textually rich and would be better served as being a straight play. (It is currently being developed into a non-musical series for HBO.) Oddly, even though there are three different composers at the helm, the music quality doesn't vary enough. All the songs are ballads and reside in the thoughts and minds of the characters rather than serving as plot-advancing tools. One or two introspective ballads is fine in a musical, but 15 is too many and they come across as passive rather than active. The most frustrating part is that 70 percent of the songs are sung by the same two female characters, Luka and Sera. The only men who sing in the show are Hayden and Ash and that's only in the second act.

While one expects such a drama to be brash and gritty, the overabundance of fuzz and sap on the stage ends up dulling the sharp edges and diminishing the weight of the story; but it's still a story rarely heard in the theater, and that's always a reason to go. -- Ramy Eletreby

photo by David Elzer