The late ’60s “outsider” girl band The Shaggs overcame a lot, including being dubbed the worst band in the history of rock, having their music compared to the “smell of an old lady living in a station wagon with 20 cats,” and being faced with any number of foreign objects thrown at them whenever they performed. Then long after Fremont, New Hampshire’s patriarch-challenged native daughters Dot, Betty and Helen Wiggins had faded into the cosmos as housewives and mental patients, the group’s only album, the obscure 1969 vanity garage-sounding mess paid for with the life savings of the girls’ certifiable father Austin, was rediscovered by Frank Zappa. In 1980, Rolling Stone honored Philosophy of the World as the comeback album of the year and, in 1999, The Shaggs became an official cult classic with the album’s re-release.

An article about the resurgence of the band in the New Yorker that same year inspired Joy Gregory and Gunnar Madsen to collaborate on The Shaggs: Philosophy of the World, now being presented for the first time by the Powerhouse Theatre Company as part [Inside] the Ford’s Hot Properties series. Beginning with the recorded voices of the actual band before the curtain comes up, it’s hard to imagine anything positive coming from this ill-conceived sister act, an ungainly, decidedly non-musical trio that managed to make the harmonies of the late-lamented Del Rubio Triplets seem like Carnegie Hall material.

Inventively directed by John Langs, his humor echoed in the wonderfully silly choreography of Ken Roht, this a major addition to the current absurdly busy season of theatrical debuts in L.A. The sweet-voiced Sarah Hays, the deadpanned Jamey Hood, and the heartbreaking Hedy Burress look somewhat like a musical reunion of Melanie, Shelley Duvall and Cris Williamson, respectively, but act up a storm as the reticent and remarkably sheltered Wiggins sisters. Burress is especially dynamic as the mentally fragile Helen, who speaks little but offers a Piaf-ful of emotions with her mobile face. And when she breaks into song, well, Joplin fans take note.

Rob Moore is a standout in this generally exceptional cast as Helen’s painfully shy boyfriend, as is local treasure Joe Fria in several different roles, even managing to create a completely hilarious character during the many cast-generated set changes. And speaking of those frequent intrusive changes, Brian Sidney Bembridge’s set design must have looked fascinating on paper, but becomes this production’s second most distracting problem. Considering the height of this stage and a perfectly fine second-story playing space created by Bembridge, it’s a shame Langs couldn’t utilize it more and dump the creaky, unwieldy, shaky floating metal structure, doubling as both the band’s rehearsal and public playing space, which all but ends the smoothness of the piece whenever it must be clumsily pulled and pushed on and offstage. Maybe it could instead permanently occupy the second floor but, whatever the solution, the staging here must be rethought. Quickly.

The most glaring distraction is the irritatingly over-the-top performance of Steven Patterson as the girls’ disciplinarian dreamer of a father. Patterson’s voice is an asset and he obviously has the talent and brains to know exactly where to take this guy; now all he needs to do is relax (particularly his mouth, which appears at times to be on a G-force ride to outerspace in a bad sci-fi movie) and simply stop working so damn hard.

The one thing about The Shaggs which overcomes its minor faults is the incredible score by Gregory and Madsen, packed with haunting ballads and cleverly upbeat numbers, all massaged cleverly around the actual music by the band, which has been mercifully rearranged and spiffed up by Madsen, a gifted new composer to watch.

Despite some minor need for tweaking, The Shaggs takes glorious flight in its modest but dazzling premiere, somewhat akin to discovering such enduring rock musical classics as Hair or Rent in their original barebones venues; I cannot recommend it more highly. For tickets, call (323) GO-FORD.

The Sirens of TI
Treasure Island Hotel & Casino, Las Vegas

reviewed by Travis Michael Holder

As part of the 10th anniversary rethinking of Treasure Island Hotel & Casino, the famed outdoor Pirates of Buccaneer Bay show was closed several months ago to make room for a sexier, more adult-themed refurbishing. Since the hotel (along with the Bellagio and the Mirage) was sold by Steve Wynn to the MGM Grand corporation, there has been a concentrated effort to dump his old “family fun” concept of hotel hospitality which began with Treasure Island. Even the old skull-and-crossbones marquee in front of the complex has given way to a huge psychedelic, high-tech, 45-ft., LED-filled display flashing in the middle of a giant “TI.”

I was lucky enough to return to Vegas for the second time in October to attend the 10th anniversary celebration, capped off by the spectacular debut of Buccaneer Bay’s newly updated musical-meets-action-movie attraction, The Sirens of TI. Conceived and choreographed by none other than the amazing Kenny Ortega and featuring the music of Emilio Estefan, those familiar ol’ pirates dry-docked the Nevada desert have entered the millennium. With all songs and dialogue featuring the actual voices of the energetic and scantily clad new cast, Sirens is indeed a vast improvement. Awash with dramatic special effects, eye-popping pyrotechnics, and high-diving Cirque du Soleil-inspired acrobatics performed by buxom sirens and wet pirates, this is one knockout show. The crunch outside TI to see it performed (at 6, 8 and 10 p.m. nightly) is still intimidating, but for the hotel’s guests, VIP viewing is available.

Leave the kiddies at home for The Sirens of TI — and Las Vegas in general these days. With the transformation of Buccaneer Bay and the debut of the Cirque’s bold new show Zumanity at New York-New York (which I reviewed in E.T. Oct. 3), maybe we’ll again see a Vegas without exhausted looking 8-year-olds being dragged like the living dead around the Strip at 2 a.m. by their Springer-reject parents. Vegas is growing up nicely. Call
(800) 288-7206 for information.

The Nun and the Countess
Hollywood Court Theatre

reviewed by Jose Ruiz

Few people know the name Sor Juana Inez de La Cruz, but this production could change all that. Often called the 10th muse, she was a cloistered nun in 17th Century Mexico, whose poems, plays, stories and writings are considered classics in Spanish literature. She was also an ardent proponent of women’s rights and is considered one of the earliest feminists, which put her at odds with church superiors.

MACHA Theatre Company examines her life, with grandiose settings, sumptuous costuming and a story that flirts with the edges of truth and fiction, openly discussing lesbian sexuality and wanton passion in a relationship doomed from the start. Opening with Sor Juana masturbating, her beautiful protégée and erstwhile lover is unexpectedly shunned when she joins Sor Juana’s bed. There are even hints of sexual abuse by Sor Juana concerning this young, innocent girl who idolizes her.

Juana enjoyed special privileges, primarily because of the patronage from the Countess de Paredes, wife of Mexico’s Viceroy. When the two first meet, a lighting rod sparks in their eyes; and they realize they have a deep sexual desire for each other. However, Juana’s visitors can’t enter her cell, so the two resort to love poems, letters and the occasional touches of fingers across bars. The messages between the two become more passionate, almost obsessive with time, and when Juana has to visit her dying mother, the Countess conjures a way where they can meet on the road for one night to consummate their love.

Director/actor Odalys Nanín, who plays Sor Juana with fervor, creates a sexually bristling scenario. The baroque sets and dark lighting underscore the raw hidden desires of the characters, who move in shadowy corners, often whispering their lines, as if hiding their thoughts and intentions. Audio playing Sor Juana’s poems in Spanish and English adds authenticity to the ambiance of the show.

Jodi Fleisher is scorching as The Countess, and Jolene Kim is wonderful as the young spurned protégée lover. Luis de Amechazurra and Robert Fuentes are convincing as priests, sometimes conniving, always pressuring her, eventually bringing her to trial, where she is stripped of her writing privileges.

Depicting a dark and brooding life, Sor Juana’s death scene is even more compelling, as a lifetime of study is shunned and discarded and her dying words cry for a love never fulfilled. Fact or fiction, this play will stir controversies and discussions about a woman whose legacy has touched millions.

Continues through Dec. 14, 2003. For reservations:
(818) 623-9333.