Shari Belafonte Takes a Turn in the ‘Tamara’ Rotation

Let’s face it. The real fun of “Tamara” is sipping champagne and racing around an old house.

The show’s into its 7th year and costs $85 to see on a Saturday night. How does one explain its success? One answer is that the experience is like following actors around a sprawling movie set. You’re free to make as many close-ups as you want, select what scenes to follow (as many as seven are going on at once) and later talk to the actors who will fill you in on the sexual, domestic or political intrigue you missed.

In the course of seven years, some of the actors have been pretty big names (Anjelica Huston, Karen Black, Theresa Saldana, Shelley Hack, William Schallert). There have been at least a half-dozen Tamaras. The latest title character at Il Vittoriale (through the end of the month) is Shari Belafonte, who’s making her stage debut.

Tamara is a Polish aristocrat and artist, who’s a catalyst in the show but, curiously, among the least interesting of the characters and most difficult to perform. That’s because she’s not crazed. She’s a noble cut above all this pre-Fascist decadence.

The actress playing her needs to be alluring, mysterious, a bit haughty and shimmering. Belafonte hasn’t found that yet. She gives the impression she’s playing high drama. She’s too rigorous and severe. Director Richard Rose should utilize her Calvin Klein demeanor. It would be a great ironic note. Her French (which accounts for most of her lines) is excellent, but in this hothouse atmosphere Belafonte should chill out. Also, her costume (thanks a lot, designer Gianfranco Ferre) is unforgiveably drab.

In any event, this is an ensemble show, it has not worn down and is still a phenomenon of environmental theater.

At 2035 N. Highland Ave., Tuesdays through Sundays, 8 p.m.; matinees Saturdays and Sundays, 2 p.m., indefinitely. $65-$85; (213) 851-9999.

Ace Acting Almost Saves Version of ‘The Big Knife’

The best way to stage Clifford Odets’ 1949 Hollywood drama, “The Big Knife,” is to light it darkly, as in film noir. Otherwise, Odets’ three acts are too turgid.

At the Gene Dynarski Theater, under a new production ensemble directed by Dynarski himself, the setting is splashed in bright light. We don’t want Technicolor. We want evil if we can get it.

The play is about the machinations of a studio mogul who ruins the life of his top male star, a fierce portrayal by Sal Landi, whose stature grows in the course of the three acts. (John Garfield, in the haunting irony of a role that captured his own crisis at Universal at the time, created the part on Broadway).

What’s fascinating about “The Big Knife,” despite the fact that everybody talks too much, is that its characters are recognizable and it’s juicy Hollywood bashing. The corrupt mogul must be insidious, unctuous, not a cartoon, and it’s here that Dynarski has cast his ace: Albert Paulsen, whose rich, unstressed, masterful performance, in a trimmed script, might have salvaged the production.

Three other actors in the 12-member cast are also exceptional: Richard Issacs’ wimpy buddy, Stanley Brock’s loyal agent and Gary Swanson’s studio hatchet man. Swanson takes a hackneyed role and remains so blissfully in callow character that you strangely come to like the guy.

The rest is uneven: the women are mostly overripe. The two intermissions are a killer. Stepanie Schoelzel’s costumes (those ladies’ gloves are a nice detail) are ‘40s chic, but the expansive, sunny game room by set designer Robert Howell misses the play’s mood.

At 5600 Sunset Blvd., Thursdays through Saturdays, 8 p.m., Sundays, 7 p.m., indefinitely. $8-$14; (213) 466-1767.

Choice Family Fare in Two-Hour ‘Huck Finn’

“Huck Finn” belongs outdoors, and at The Theatricum Botanicum, in the production’s best, less harried moments, you feel the serenity of the river. Huck and Jim float on a raft (on rollers), and in the glade of the Botanicum, caves and shoreline are easy to imagine.

This production, with adapter John Barnes wisely cutting the Twain classic down to a two-hour playing length, is choice family entertainment. For once Huck (a convincing Ross Carrick) is not red-haired and freckled and British director Douglas Campbell has caught the growing morality in Huck with an unpatronizing touch.

Hugh Dane’s sturdy Jim, Thad Geer’s drunken Pap, and Peter Zazzali’s hair-brained Tom Sawyer are strong support. Those scalawags, the King and Duke, are flavorfully played by, respectively, Arthur Malet and David Ellenstein. You see their bodies tarred and feathered--this production doesn’t hedge on the brutality of small-town 19th-Century America--and Campbell and Barnes are careful to make clear that Huck feels sorry for them. A telling nuance.

At 1419 N. Topanga Canyon Blvd., Saturdays, 8 p.m., Sundays, 1 p.m., through Aug. 12. $11; (213) 455-2322.

Zeta Collective Targets Mindless Patriotism

The first thing a child memorizes in school is the pledge of allegiance. The Zeta Collective, in a short, provocative ensemble performance, dramatizes the symbols and language of patriotism in “Myths of Freedom 2: Ready! Begin!” at the L.A. Fringe Theatre.

Based in a warehouse in downtown Los Angeles, with a deep stage perfectly suited to its dance movement theater, the multidisciplinary company decimates mindless patriotism through corporeal mime and robotic movements.

Over the image of smiling white masks, we hear a tape playing words in German from “Mein Kampf.” We also hear a 6th grade class reciting slogans at 92nd Street School and knee-jerk gung ho refrains from Ronald Reagan and George Bush.

But the impact is nonverbal, with the ensemble’s hypnotic and highly technical movement fusing images of flying air squadrons, military processions, salutes, warfare, crumbling bodies, tolling bells. Implicit in the material is the current flag desecration flap.

The first half hour of the 50-minute production is so darkly lit that the result is unnecessarily stark and distancing. But the Zeta Collective is a group with a clear point of view that is never strident. Director William Fisher founded the company in Paris under the influence of corporeal mime artist Etienne Decroux and brought it to downtown Los Angeles three years ago.

At 929 E. Second St. (entrance on Vignes), Fridays through Sundays, 8:30 p.m., through July 29. $8-$10; (213) 617-8259.

A Family Romp With an Environmental Message

Steve Trash is the name. He lives in a back alley of garbage and uncorks magic tricks with an implicit environmental message about recycling, particularly aimed at kids.

At a brisk hour and 15 minutes, the show at Theater/Theatre is whimsical, educational, and the magic will impress any adult, especially the levitating bag lady (Heather Sandvold, who co-wrote the show with Trash and director Nadine Caracciolo).

Trash, alias Steve Richerson from New York, may be the first illusionist to create magic in the context of the refuse and homeless. All the props are comical. There’s no rotten fruit or anything repellent. Trash doesn’t rush things. And he’s not a showoff. Here’s a loony, socially alert family frolic.

At 1713 N. Cahuenga Blvd., Saturdays, 3 and 8 p.m., Sundays, 5 and 8 p.m., through Aug. 5. $8.50-$15; (213) 871-0210.

‘Evolution of a Rib’ Needs a Bit of Beefing Up

A one-woman show, “Evolution of a Rib,” at the Powerhouse Theater, is a showcase for Carra Robertson, who segues from a modern-day Eve in a flesh-colored body suit to four young women in assorted stages of angst, comical and otherwise.

The production, directed by Allyson Adams and written by Robertson and Stephanie Phillips, is a rather slight achievement. We really don’t need another unloving mom and dad sketch.

The production is disciplined and technically professional and breezes by in an hour. But one-person shows need bite, edge, and danger. The eager Robertson has personality and stage savvy, but she doesn’t explore any new territory as a writer, and as an actress, which is her forte, her characters and caricatures are not original enough to make knockout punches.

This rib needs meat.

At 3116 Second St., Santa Monica. Tuesdays and Wednesdays, 8 p.m., through Aug. 22. $10; (213) 842-8617.