Theatre in Review: The 35th Marathon of One-Act Plays -- Series A (Ensemble Studio Theatre)Musical theatre invades EST's one-act marathon, with two of the five entries in Series A relying on song and dance. The program's highlight is the opener, I Battled Lenny Ross. Ross was a child prodigy who, in the 1950s, won $164,000 on television quiz shows. He later attended Yale Law School, where his intellectual prowess made him a scholastic legend, and went on to hold important government posts, before killing himself at 39. Anna Ziegler's book focuses on the 12-year-old Ross' television interview with Mike Wallace, who, eager to pontificate, proffers a volley of questions designed to characterize Ross as some kind of freak, which the cagey youth deftly deflects. The action is interrupted by a series of figures from Ross' life. A quiz-show opponent (and baseball fan) compares Ross to the no-hit pitcher Don Larsen. His parents recall evidence of his enormous precocity, but insist, "You're baffled/And bewildered/And befuddled/And beguiled/But doesn't everybody/Feel that way about their child?" And a girlfriend from his adult years recalls his halting progress toward intimacy, which climaxes with a proposal quickly followed by a disappearance. That song, "Here's the Thing," makes clear that Matt Schatz, the songwriter, has a nice way with a melody and, even better, writes lyrics that feature real rhymes and make telling points without straining for cleverness. I Battled Lenny Ross is a funny and touching meditation on the dubious gift of being a child prodigy, and both authors are talents to watch. The piece benefits from Aaron Serotsky's Mike Wallace, a master of passive-aggressive interrogating, and Jake Kitchin's Lenny, whose too-controlled answers signal a more troubling reality carefully hidden from view. Under Daniella Topol's light-fingered direction, Olli Haaskivin and Julie Fitzpatrick are also solid. The other musical offering, Until She Claws Her Way Out, begins as a monologue by a ballerina who falls into a sadomasochistic relationship with a male colleague. Mariah MacCarthy's script deftly strips away the character's defenses and denials to the point where she must admit that her well-being and career are at stake. At this point, however, the bad boyfriend enters and the rest of the piece consists of a pas de deux that is meant to suggest the churning emotions that define their relationship. The choreography, by Sidney Erik Wright, who also directed, has one or two flashes of passion, but on the whole is rather too cautiously performed. Naomi Kakuk is thoroughly convincing as the dancer, and Kit Treece makes a fine dance partner, but when MacCarthy runs out of words, her play seriously deflates. The best of the non-musical offerings is The Big Man, a tense little psychological thriller set in Kenya. Gabe, an American aid worker -- has developed a program to sell solar panels in the countryside, allowing poor farmers to generate their own power -- has his car impounded by the police. His pleas for its return fall on the deaf ears of the two officers in charge, who inform him he must return the next day and pay a fine. This impasse blows up when the impatient Gabe bares his fury at the country's corrupt government -- particularly its brutal treatment of its own citizens -- and gets trapped into a frightening role-playing exercise, in which the threat of physical harm seems all too imminent. Will Snider's script is remarkably complete, despite its brief running time, and Matt Penn's direction keeps the action taut. Gianmarco Soresi makes Gabe's anger and fear palpable, and Brian D. Coats and Ray Anthony Thomas team up to keep him, and us, nervously uncertain of their intentions. 52nd To Bowery to Cobble Hill, in Brooklyn, by Chiara Atik, who recently had a success at EST with Five Times in One Night, is an amusing but insubstantial sketch about two female acquaintances sharing a cab after attending a party. Airheaded Alison strains to make conversation with the cooler Halle. The latter admits to being in graduate school for library science. "Cool! That's cool. You always liked reading," says Alison. The wisp of dramatic action involves Alison's coming to terms with the fact that Halle doesn't really like her. Anyway, Megan Tusing and Molly Carden give assured performances under the direction of Adrienne Campbell-Holt. Silver Men, the weakest entry, is a series of monologues in which various family members recall how the adult Jeffrey chose to paint the barn pink, purchased a pink auto, and added a mauve sofa to the living room, before taking more drastic action. Amy Fox's script is an elegantly conceived enigma, neatly structured, but much too dull; it leaves one feeling that its meticulously wrought speeches contain very little in the way of ideas or feelings. Nevertheless, David Margulies, always a pleasure, is on hand as the patriarch, and Tommy Heleringer and Catherine Curtin are solid as Jeffrey's son and wife. Matt Dickson's staging is clean and clutter-free. Nick Francone's set, which is used to a greater or lesser degree in all the plays, features a pair of blue upstage walls, out of which have been carved various shapes, which are internally lit to create a nice skyline effect in 52nd to Bowery. Julian Evans' sound design is most prominent in that play, creating the experience of riding a taxi in traffic. Greg MacPherson's lighting and Audrey Nauman's costumes are both solid. Evenings such as these are necessarily uneven, but Series A has more than its share of nice surprises. If the B and C Series in the Marathon are as consistent as this, audiences will be leaving the theatre thoroughly satisfied. -- David Barbour 
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