Much like the state of matter in its name, “The Gas House” lacks a definite and tangible shape. Making its West Coast premiere at Hollywood’s Sacred Fools Theater, the play is full of interesting ideas and characters but fails to fully realize its potential. The strong acting and much of William Donnelly’s script simply deserve better.
The show begins much like a one-man show. Radio shock jock Don Berlin (Marc Jablon of NBC’s “ER”) has just been canned by his network after a spectacular on-air meltdown. In light of this year’s Don Imus scandal, Berlin’s story is particularly timely.
Berlin directly addresses the audience as he navigates the twin challenges of a catastrophic hangover and his unsympathetic bookie. His patter is East Coast edgy and he has some genuinely funny lines, especially when he explores the bizarre realm of L.A. script hustling. The moment Berlin pretends to pitch his stunningly bad screenplay elicited genuine laughter. Jablon and Donnelly perfectly capture the dueling arrogance and pathos of that most iconic of characters: the Hollywood loser.
But when Berlin’s estranged wife, Adria, played with a quiet authority by Supatra Hanna, shows up to “check on him,” the play loses its footing. The wreckage of their relationship takes center stage, and at no point do the characters map new ground as they sift through the debris of old arguments. All that is served by their rehashed battles is a long-winded bit of background exposition.
Suzanne Karpinski’s direction wobbles as well. The transition device of scratchy radio white noise amid snippets of Berlin’s taped broadcasts between scenes is compelling, but the spot-lit tableaux of the actors in freeze-frame while they contemplate their shared angst is much less effective.
Moments like these waste the talents of Jablon and Hanna, who still manage to accomplish the herculean task of making their unsympathetic characters both human and likeable. Having to spit out clunkers such as “I breathed this dead, poisonous air, waiting for something clean to come through” doesn’t make matters any easier, either.
Donnelly’s text, however, is not a total loss. The play is full of poignantly simple moments that capture the loss and rage of two people staring at each other from opposite sides of an irreconcilable difference.
Which is why it’s such a shame that the story limps to a close with a “surprise” ending that’s like the deus ex machina of plot twist heaven. It would have been much more interesting if Donnelly had explored the possibility of the characters attempting to rebuild their lives. Instead, “The Gas House” simply evaporates.
““ Melissa Henderson
E-mail Bissell at abissell@media.ucla.edu and Henderson at mhenderson@media.ucla.edu.