A ride on the welcome wagon

Populist tactics meet cultural realities in “Black & Bluestein,” and if it is more old-school than cutting-edge, that’s only appropriate. By couching this study of racial prejudice and real estate values in 1963 St. Louis as boulevard comedy-drama, playwright Jerry Mayer lets his valid central point sneak up on us.

Based on a true story, “Black & Bluestein” examines the fallout when builder Jeff Bluestein (Loren Lester) decides to sell his home (well realized by set designer Scott Heineman, the fulcrum of a solid design scheme) in a largely Jewish suburb. The last thing that Susan (Jamie Luner), Jeff’s proto-liberal wife, anticipates is his hesitation over selling to Dr. Daniel Black (John Eric Bentley), a successful Chicago biochemist who happens to be African American.

The homeowners association weighs in, via martinet Mimi Roth (Kelly Lester, alternating with Lenora May), struggling druggist Marvin Feldman (Larry Gelman, alternating with Danny Goldman) and, critically, Joe Grodsky (Stuart Pankin), Jeff’s irascibly biased uncle.

Initially, “Black & Bluestein” has the period tone of an inverted sequel to “A Raisin in the Sun” as envisioned by Carl Reiner. Yet, once house and premise come together in the kaffeeklatsch where Daniel introduces himself to the neighborhood -- and in which we in the audience become the homeowners -- the narrative takes off.

At the reviewed performance, a front-row audience member spontaneously responded to this direct address, with Bentley’s in-character ad libs sealing the deal. The subsequent plot convolutions converge in a rendition of Irving Berlin’s “Supper Time” by Daniel’s feisty wife, Doris (Candy Brown, alternating with Gayla Johnson), that brings it home.

Throughout, director Deborah Harmon’s capable cast keeps us engaged despite some Borscht Belt excess and over-explication. “Black & Bluestein” won’t change the world, but you have to start somewhere.

-- David C. Nichols

“Black & Bluestein,” Other Space, Santa Monica Playhouse, 1211 4th St., Santa Monica. 3 and 8 p.m. Saturdays, 3 and 7 p.m. Sundays. Ends April 29. $22 and $25. (323) 960-4418 or www.plays411.com/blackandbluestein. Running time: 1 hour, 50 minutes.

Traumatized vets, anguished odyssey

When a creative work is linked closely to social outreach, sitting in judgment of it without seeming a bit heartless is difficult.

Such is the case with Sean Huze’s “The Wolf,” a drama about troubled Iraq war veterans whose struggles with post-traumatic stress disorder have tragic consequences. The play, now in its world premiere at the Art/Works Theater in Hollywood, has been produced by VetStage, Huze’s fledgling theater company, which is specifically devoted to helping traumatized combat veterans work out their feelings through theatrical expression. Admirably therapeutic in intention, the play nonetheless lacks craft.

The plot revolves around Joey Dallriva (Huze), a brutalized vet whose killing of an Iraqi family has landed him in a military hospital psychiatric ward. Facing murder charges, Joey escapes with a fellow Marine, rape victim Kelly Pickett (Cameron Goodman), who was committed for killing one of the men who assaulted her.

Both Joey and Kelly are prone to violent eruptions, as evidenced by their cross-country spree. Smitten with Joey, Kelly is just along for the ride. But for Joey, whose brother was just killed in combat, the trip is an odyssey of sorts, a pilgrimage back to his hometown to take care of some unfinished business with his parish priest, Father Lawrence (Damien Leake), a Vietnam vet also plagued by a violent past.

Huze, himself a decorated Iraq combat veteran, laces his work with the convincing anguish of someone who has been there. However, despite the oddly muted direction of Rick Pagano, whose actors sometimes swallow their lines as if performing for a camera, “Wolf” seems hyperbolic and overstated to a degree that deadens, rather than arouses, our empathy.

Most problematic of all is Joey’s bitter final confrontation with Father Lawrence, a scene that seems intended as some sweeping indictment of organized religion. If so, the point is so poorly articulated that we are left grasping for meaning -- and wondering why the institutions more directly responsible for the current conflict have been left so conveniently unscathed.

-- F. Kathleen Foley

“The Wolf,” Art/Works Theater, 6569 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 7 p.m. Sundays. Ends May 6. $25. (323) 9605775. www.plays411.com/thewolf. Running time: 1 hour, 45 minutes.

Chisel marks show in sculptor tale

“Galatea” has been extended at the Space Theatre in Hollywood, where it could attain cult status. Resolute craft marks Frank Tangredi’s ambitious kitchen-sink think piece, in which a neurotic British sculptor intrudes on a loveless Brooklyn marriage and cracks open everyone’s core.

From the opening kitchen table tableau of Kate and Al Hagen (Adrian Lee and Ronald Quigley), we’re bound for heady emotional terrain. Director Alex Sol resourcefully helms this account of artist Merle (Lorianne Hill), who finds the perfect model for her conception of Pygmalion’s Galatea in sullen-jawed Kate. After meeting retired firefighter Al, his verbal abuse as much a defense mechanism as Kate’s icy disregard, Merle becomes fixated on liberating this “woman made of stone.”

Adam (Ross Kramer), Merle’s marriage-minded boyfriend, detects that the Hagens’ relationship isn’t all it seems -- something that Barbara (Jacqueline Hickel), their daughter, eventually confirms. Thus, life imitates art across the multilevel set, as transference begets revelations like David Hare channeling Clifford Odets.

Lee and Quigley do textbook character work within single-note arcs, she the cold fission to his angry fusion. Hill conveys Merle’s conflicts in the face of some unwieldy exposition; Hickel makes Barbara’s meltdown a peak; and Kramer is most likable as Adam, though the role is schematic. The structural mix of family dynamics and thematic symbolism isn’t exactly invisible, and a showcase aura accompanies the detailed beats. It plays for keeps, but “Galatea’s” studied parallels and exposed technique cry for the restrained probing of a camera lens.

-- D.C.N.

“Galatea,” the Space Theatre, 665 N. Heliotrope Drive, Hollywood, 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 7 p.m. Sundays. Ends May 5. (323) 871-1970. $15 and $20. Running time: 2 hours, 30 minutes.