OCCIDENTAL STAGES A MODERN ‘SHREW’

A modern-dress production of “The Taming of the Shrew” makes pointed sense because Shakespeare’s tongue-in-cheek treatment of female submission is too often mistaken for male chauvinism.

At the outdoor Remsen Bird Hillside Theater at the Occidental College Summer Drama Festival, the setting is a sleek contemporary Padua. The actors deliver the most crisp Shakespeare heard in some time. But the musical interludes sound Felliniesque, and the clothes and furnishings suggest the realm of a 1980s’ Italian playboy.

Throw in playgirl, too. All the better to catch the twinkle in Kate’s subjugation. That is most dramatically delivered in her famous final lines when she trumpets the virtue of wifely obedience: “I am ashamed that women are so simple / To offer war where they should kneel in peace.”

There are moments in actress Mary Anne Dorward’s speech which sound too earnest. Is she really knuckling under? But Dorward’s performance is ultimately the subtle game of a woman undaunted, albeit tamed. We go away smiling at the timeliness of it all.

Actor Tim Shelton’s calculatedly unruly lover, Petruchio, is a confident, dashing performance. It is also a subtle characterization--in this case, of a worldly man who wanted merely “to wive it wealthily in Padua” and wound up falling in love. This romance is as modern as you’ll find anywhere. The one element missing is any sense of eroticism between the pair.

Director John Bouchard’s boisterous production includes the historically oft-omitted “Induction,” an opening scenic device that frames the “Shrew” within another play about a drunken tinker named Christopher Sly.

John Ingle is charmingly pragmatic as the rich father dying to marry off his shrewish daughter. And vivid portrayals are contributed by Morgan Rusler’s Grumio, Tom Shelton’s Hortensio, Jamie Angell’s Tranio, and Jay D. Smith’s Biondello. Christa Bartels did the clean, streamlined sets and Patricia Bersci the understated but flavorful costumes.

This production, the last of a five-play repertory festival, underscores a smart debut for Occidental’s new resident troupe, the Hillside Repertory Company, which is comprised of Equity artists and local college apprentices.

Performances are at Occidental College, 1600 Campus Road, Saturday, next Tuesday and Thursday, 8:30 p.m. Tickets: $5-$12; (213) 259-2772.

‘BAZAAR & RUMMAGE’

The 21st Street Theater Company is presenting the American premiere of a British all-female comedy about two social workers and three agoraphobics. The production is indubitably British, both in tone and vocal accent. And it is uniquely acted.

Previously televised on BBC-TV, the play is a bit plodding but it is also brushed with affection that is disarming. Director Anne Davis has caught playwright Sue Townsend’s bright repartee and her moderately dramatic conclusion.

The scene is a church hall in a working class neighborhood. A neurotic, “noble” human caretaker, played with a wonderful saccharine desperation by Niki Merrigan, has concocted a rummage sale designed to lure from their homes a trio of women scared stiff to venture into the outside world. While the outcome is fairly predictable, the characters are not.

Kerry Gabbert creates a deliciously composed preppie-looking character who finds her spirit knocking off riffs on the church piano (original music by Frank White). Carla Wynn is perverse as a certified mental-health case with a wicked gleam, and Jane Killingsworth is humorously foul-mouthed as a woman who hasn’t been able to stray from her home in 19 years. Deceptively, the strongest performance belongs to Teri LaPorte as a second-string social worker who marvelously effects a levelheaded figure who wises up none too soon.

Harry Faversham’s set is poor--a case study in confusing a dingy environment with dingy design.

Performances run at 11350 Palms Blvd., Fridays and Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 7:30 p.m., through Sept. 20. Tickets: $4-$7; (213) 827-5655.

‘THE MALE BOX’

The box here is a holding tank in the L.A. Criminal Courts building. The male quotient is six blacks, three whites, two Latinos and one Asian. Ever been in a holding tank? You’re in one now.

Even the dreary Gallery Theater at Barnsdall Park helps create the depressing atmosphere of a lockup. “The Male Box” was written and directed by a man who served time for bank robbery in the late ‘70s at Terminal Island. Paul Howard Nicholas returned there last June to premiere his play before the inmates. It went over big. He told the Times that a program at the Terminal Island pen when he was a resident, L.A. Theatre Works’ Artists in Prison (now defunct), turned his life around.

For non-felons, it’s not a great play. The two short acts lack propulsion as the prisoners alternately recount their misfortunes. But the actors and their physical demeanor are indelibly authentic. Refreshingly, the production enjoys considerable comedy. And it doesn’t pound you with a message (although drugs are the chief scourge and the justice system takes its licks).

The acting is surprisingly even. Peter Foxx’s heroin addict is touching and funny. Jacoby P. Maxwell’s jive-talking character is right off Avalon Boulevard. Bobby Nelson’s silent derelict is pure pathos. Donna Taylor’s abrasive jailer appears to have just blown in after a guard shift at Sybil Brand.

Performances are at 4804 Hollywood Blvd., tonight and Saturday only, 8 p.m. Tickets: $15-$25; (213) 837-5704.

‘CAPTAIN INTRINSIC’

Momentum is important, especially to something as sublime as “Captain Intrinsic” at Theater Exchange. But the show has no arc, no rhythm, no motion (except laterally in short jagged scenes).

Playwright R. T. Johnson’s concept is not a bad idea: to literally bring to life a make-believe comic book patterned after a hero like Superman who is now an old, cynical man (Stuart Lancaster).

There’s a milk-fed hero, nicely played by Jerry Lloyd. And a delightful set of huge comic book panels (scenic design by Stuart Chase) that turn with the action.

But the charm soon wears thin, despite fetching performances by Debora Reventini’s homespun Mom, Larry Eisenberg’s dog Butch (who reminds you of Snoopy), Jackie St. Mary’s wide-eyed girlfriend, and Robert Gray’s dead-on, middle-America milkman.

Director Marc Silver can’t make this talent aerodynamic, however, and nothing less will do. The dialogue becomes tortuous and the production soporific. There’s a sketch here, perhaps a musical, but not a two-act parody.

Performances unfold at 1185 Hart St. in North Hollywood, Fridays and Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 2 p.m., through Oct. 10. Tickets: $10; (818) 782-3140.