A strong, simple ‘Tempest’

In Shakespeare’s “The Tempest,” a sorcerer’s elaborate spells prove to be mere parlor tricks when compared with the magic of love and the power of forgiveness. Chockablock with fantastic events, the show demands at least a modicum of stage magic. Rarely is this accomplished as simply -- yet enchantingly -- as in director Steven Shields’ version for the Ark Theatre Company.

The stage is bare, the actors in street clothes. Yet from these humble elements, Shields and his performers evoke an entire world. Crouched over, an actor becomes a rock. Another, standing with arms extended, is a tree. The lot of them, barking like mad, become hellhounds. Before all is said and done, the line “We are such stuff as dreams are made on” has acquired literal as well as poetic meaning.

Creative, sometimes gender-blind casting also enriches this telling of the tale of Prospero, the usurped duke of Milan, who has found sanctuary on a virtually uninhabited island. There he has perfected his use of magic until, one day, his enemies sail by.

Prospero’s duplicitous brother, Antonio, becomes, in Shields’ staging, a sister, Antonia (Jules Wilcox), whose plotting with the similarly treacherous Sebastian (Justin Zsebe) assumes a sexual dimension. The wise but talkative counselor Gonzalo is, instead, Gonzala (Dee Amerio Sudik). The monstrous Caliban also benefits from a woman’s touch, becoming, in Aomawa Baker’s interpretation, a lonely, misunderstood soul who yearns for tenderness.

Kourtney Kaas, as the spirit Ariel, flits about with a dancer’s grace, while clownish physical humor is the specialty of Ryan Johnston, as a David Hyde Pierce-like court jester, and Ross Gottstein, as a Jackie Gleason-ish butler.

Amid so much fantasy, it’s almost a shock to see everyday reality depicted so truthfully in the relationship between Rocelyn Halili, as surly teenage daughter Miranda, and David Grammer, as stormy but devoted papa Prospero.

Some scenes are more magical than others, and the production, in the Ark’s new storefront home, sorely lacks such niceties as an evolved lighting system. Fortunately, creativity fills in most of the gaps.

-- Daryl H. Miller

“The Tempest,” Ark Theatre Company, 1647 S. La Cienega Blvd., L.A. Thursdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 7 p.m., except no performances this Sunday or May 23. Ends June 13. $20. (323) 969-1707. Running time: 2 hours.

*

The Bard aboard a spaceship

Shakespeare gets blasted into space, to a rock ‘n’ roll beat, in the riotously funny sci-fi musical “Return to the Forbidden Planet.” The plot is largely cribbed from the 1956 sci-fi movie “Forbidden Planet,” which itself was largely cribbed from “The Tempest.” Additional famous lines are appropriated from throughout the Shakespearean canon, and the whole thing is set to a soundtrack of song favorites from the 1950s and ‘60s.

This is the show that, in 1990, famously upset “Miss Saigon” to win the Olivier Award for best musical on the London stage. Here, it is well paired with “The Tempest” as the Ark Theatre Company presents the shows on different nights each week.

As with its “Tempest,” the Ark’s production of the Bob Carlton musical is notable for creating much out of little. Joe Yakovetic’s set design, for instance, fashions a spaceship’s bridge from such everyday elements as plastic garden chairs (painted silver, they become command seats), a Lite-Brite glowing pegboard toy (which serves as a multicolored monitor) and a string of Italian lights (seen through a porthole, they look like stars). Kerrie Kordowski’s costumes combine silvery fabrics, faux furs and tall boots for a look that’s part ‘60s mod, part ‘80s punk.

In much the same spirit as the sci-fi laugh fest “The Rocky Horror Show,” “Planet” tells of a spaceship crew that sets off on a routine mission (liftoff occurs to the rumbling drums and propulsive guitars of “Wipe Out”) but crashes on a remote planet. There, Capt. Tempest (an amusingly mock-heroic Lance Arthur Smith) and his crew encounter the mad scientist Prospero (the wonderfully stentorian Richard Tatum), his ‘60s-chick daughter (the kittenish Danika Sudik) and his marvelous robot (Ben Wells, painted silver and channeling C-3PO as well as Robby the Robot while zipping around on skates).

As the unlucky-in-love ship’s cook, Michael Holmes straps on a guitar and joins the band for a deliriously psychedelic instrumental breakout in the midst of “She’s Not There,” and as the science officer with a secret past, Jen A. Hogan delivers a hauntingly bittersweet rendition of “Go Now.”

Though the action self-destructs for a while in the second act, director Vanessa Claire Smith keeps the show rocketing forward, with afterburners kicking in every time music director and keyboardist Karen Tiegren strikes up the flame-hot four-piece band.

-- D.H.M.

“Return to the Forbidden Planet,” Ark Theatre Company, 1647 S. La Cienega Blvd., L.A. Wednesdays, Fridays, Saturdays, 8 p.m. Ends June 26. $20; next Wednesday, pay what you can. (323) 969-1707. Running time: 2 hours, 10 minutes.

*

A ‘Body’ of relevant work

Resurgent topicality marks “The Body” in its U.S. debut at the Matrix Theatre in Hollywood. Nick Darke’s dank 1983 allegory about a village, a corpse and the Marine Corps has inescapable current pertinence.

Originally produced by the Royal Shakespeare Company, “The Body” involves a coastal community that falls into absurdist disarray after Mrs. May (an unrecognizable Susan Clark, never better) discovers the title cadaver (Todd Lawson).

Cockle-serenading rival Archie Gross (the incisive Michael O’Hagan) absconds with this specimen. Constable Gilbert (Julian Stone) stokes reactionary paranoia and yearns for tweed-fancying Alice (Natalie Sutherland). Peter Dennis’ Mandarin-garbed rector spouts inanities, while Steve Peterson’s Stanley brays through a gas mask. Throughout, Cerris Morgan-Moyer’s farm wife, Grace, frets over missing husband Kenneth (the vivid Ralph Lister).

After a whopping Act 1 curtain twist, Act 2 flashes back to the arriving military forces, drolly caricatured by Ian Putnam’s lieutenant, Jason Hildebrandt’s sergeant and Walter Wong’s psycho. The unveiled alliances and shifted personas converge toward a cautionary precipice that drops into ironic pathos.

David Payne’s staging moves this adroit team in Brechtian directions around Laura Fine’s stark set. Louise de Teliga’s costumes, David Beaudry’s sound and Kristie Roldan’s lighting provide effective atmospherics. The ensemble, which includes the Cornish game chorus of Dale Dickey, Steve Keyes, Dax McKeever and Stephanie Stenta, conveys well-accented esprit de corps.

This combats a recurring liability: Darke’s satire is less savage than sarcastic, the erratic laugh quotient dulling its edge. But “The Body” is no hollow stiff: All proceeds benefit the Dome Homeless Shelter, and the renegade relevance recommends it.

-- David C. Nichols

“The Body,” Matrix Theatre, 7657 Melrose Ave., Hollywood. Thursdays through Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 3 and 7 p.m. Ends June 6. Mature audiences. $25. (323) 960-4418. Running time: 2 hours.

*

The business of being funny

To a motley group of aspiring stand-up comics jockeying for a lineup spot, there’s no business like the “Funny Business” in Hollye Leven’s affectionate musical saluting the comedy club scene.

Under Sue Wolf’s brisk direction, the show proves a breezy mix of satirical songs and backstage antics centered on that familiar but serviceable device -- the visiting talent scout whose presence drives the performers into a neurotic frenzy. The revolving-door cast shrewdly draws from real-life local comics performing their own continually updated material, adding a spontaneous, unpredictable edge.

For the comics, it’s a win-win proposition: When a joke works (which is most of the time), it’s a talent showcase; when one doesn’t, it adds to the pathos of the character.

Ruta Lee anchors the show as Iris, a feisty, no-nonsense club owner who’s seen it all, singing about her adventures with great comedians of the past while gleefully exploiting the wannabes of the present.

In debunking the glamorous side of the business, the performers have no trouble convincing us that they know whereof they speak -- and sing. Veteran political humorist Will Durst brings downtrodden sympathy to Art, whose perpetual suicide threats are shrugged off by clubmates who know they’re all part of psyching himself up for his act.

Naturally, ambition entails sacrifice for all of the comics. Blueblood Zack (John Viener) has turned his back on his family wealth (“My father used to beat me -- at polo”). Will (Dwayne Perkins) agonizes over whether to perform a politically incorrect routine that happens to be his funniest bit.

To get some stage time, Hannah (Iris Bahr) occupies the club’s “Comedy College” indentured-servitude position, which she gladly relinquishes to newcomer Blake (Adam K. Arian).

Leven’s score, an agreeable pastiche of rock, pop, blues, gospel and rap, skillfully employs a pair of versatile backup singers (Becky Baeling and Jason Paige) to handle the more professional vocal requirements.

Alternate cast members include Billy Grundfest, Brett Walkow, Dana Meller, James Snyder, Laura Lees and Raymond del Barrio.

“Funny Business” never cuts deep enough to be taken too seriously, but its creators and performers clearly see that a funny bone is a terrible thing to waste.

-- Philip Brandes

“Funny Business,” Upstairs at the Coronet Theatre, 366 N. La Cienega Blvd., Los Angeles. Thursdays through Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 3 p.m. Runs indefinitely. $35 to 39.50. (310) 657-7377. Running time: 1 hour, 55 minutes.