Justin Tanner’s latest comedy, LITTLE THEATRE, is an autobiographical tale dealing with the unique world of Los Angeles theatre. Its time-span is late 1980s-mid- 1990s, when L.A. had two theatre planets orbiting around the city. One was comprised of a handful of large theatres: the Taper, Ahmanson, Geffen, Pantages, etc., which concentrated on mounting successful plays out of Chicago or New York. The other planet was home to a hundred-odd intimate spaces–-euphemism for holes in the wall–-which survived thanks to a special arrangement with Actors Equity which allowed actors to work for free, as long as the theatre had fewer than 99 seats.
The Waiver deal meant that productions could be mounted cheaply and that chances could be taken with original plays. It helped that L.A. had a slew of daily and weekly newspapers which covered the intimate-theatre scene–-and that the city itself had an arts budget which enabled many of those shoestring operations to survive.
Today that
universe looks considerably different. The big theatres are still functioning
as before, but the smaller ones have become an endangered species. Most
L.A. newspapers have folded and the few that remain–-especially The
Times–-no longer review anything but mainstream productions. On top
of that, Equity killed The Waiver deal (despite opposition from the actors
themselves) and the arts budget dried up (thanks to the sixty million
dollars the city blew on the L.A. Theatre Center fiasco). As a result,
most small theatres have shut down, owing to urban renewal and/or predatory
landlords.
LITTLE THEATRE depicts the halcyon days of the L.A. theatre scene, when
a budding playwright like Tanner could get his work produced fairly easily.
In the play Tanner calls himself James (Zachary Grant). He walks into
the El Centro Theatre and lands a job as an intern. His boss Monica (Jenny
O’Hara) is based on Diana Gibson who ran the Cast Theatre for many
years. Her main helper Danny (Ryan Brophy) is a jack-of-all-trades who
runs the box office, builds the sets and keeps the books.
James is young, naive and unworldly, the opposite of the middle-aged, cynical, profane, pot-smoking Monica, but they become a team when she discovers his playwriting skills. His first play, a modest comedy, saves the El Centro from collapse when it not only wins an arts grant but has a long run.
The clash between Monica and James (with Danny caught in the middle) provides most of the comedy, largely because Monica is outrageously coarse, bitchy and cheap. But she has one rare and remarkable gift: she really knows theatre.
Thanks to her dramaturgical help James becomes an important playwright, turning out on hit play after another. One of them attracts the attention of Steven Spielberg’s film company, which hires him to write a comedy.
James goes
from little-theatre to Hollywood fame. The money pours in, he’s given
an office on the Universal lot, and is treated like a boy wonder. It’s
a transition he can’t quite handle, mostly because he’s still
tied, creatively and spiritually, to Monica–-his muse, tutor and
mother. What happens when he tries to sever that bond gives the play its
conflict, its surprises and sorrows.
This isn’t to suggest that LITTLE THEATRE turns completely dark.
The comedy remains uppermost but it’s tinged with sadness for a relationship–-and
by extension a theatrical community–-that crumbles before our eyes.
Rogue Machine’s production of LITTLE THEATRE is noteworthy for its splendid acting and directing (Lisa James), and for its solid technical support.
(At the Matrix Theatre, 7657 Melrose Ave. Visit roguemachinetheatre.com)