Theatre in Review: Nobody Loves You (Second Stage)Suddenly, the hot theatrical topic is reality television, what with Rod McLachlan' Good Television recently concluding a well-received run at Atlantic Theatre and Jay Stull's The Capables about to open Off Off Broadway. Both plays are satires -- but is it really possible to spoof The Real World and all of its successors? Don't the legions of real housewives, Jersey Shore denizens, and bridezillas effectively mock themselves, playing the clown for their requisite 15 minutes of fame, or notoriety, or whatever? And isn't the joke really on us, for watching their degraded capers? The people behind Nobody Loves You had the clever idea of inserting a young metaphysician into the title series, a Bachelorette/Big Brother hybrid populated entirely by airheads and fame-seekers, and letting the fur fly. Jeff, who is writing a dissertation on matters ontological, loses his girlfriend over her devotion to Nobody Loves You, the reality series. She announces her intention to audition for it, and he resolves to follow her. When he gets cast and she doesn't, he decides to use the experience as fodder for his inquiry into the nature of reality while exposing the show's manipulations to the viewing audience. Nobody Loves You is hosted by Byron, an expensively coiffed vacuum who delivers each episode's tortured narration ("Like scales falling from the hides of ancient lizards, fifteen contestants had dwindled to the final six.") with a savoir-faire that Ryan Seacrest might envy. The contestants include a young evangelical named Christian, a virgin holding out for his wedding night; Samantha, whose mantra, "I live in the moment, and I'm laid back," belies her man-stalking ways; and Megan, a ferocious sexual athlete forever looking to add another notch to her belt. Meanwhile, Jeff, who shuns the camera whenever possible, falls for Jenny, an assistant producer and would-be filmmaker. This represents one of the show's rare missteps; in his laudable desire to keep Nobody Loves You a fast, funny 90 minutes, the librettist, Itamar Moses, telescopes the action, introducing the contestants, then jumping ahead several weeks when they've been whittled down to a precious few. This leaves Jeff standing outside the action a little too much; we'd like him better and more quickly if we saw him subjected to a few of the show's more mortifying rituals. Nevertheless, under Michelle Tattenbaum's delectably farcical direction, the amusement never flags as each contestant throws his or her dignity to the four winds, taking part in such exercises as "The Obstacle Course of Love" and "The Crush Ceremony." A ballad titled "Come On In" becomes an uproarious study in mixed signals, as Christian urges Megan to open up emotionally while she tries to drag him into the hot tub for a steamy encounter. Another of the show's exercises in humiliation, the "Eighth Grade Dance," goes awry when Stephanie, stranded at the punchbowl without a dancing partner, gets loaded and bares her deep-seated rage. Meanwhile, Jeff's snarky on-air comments turn him into a media hero. ("Usually I hate shows like this. Now Jeff hates it for me!" tweets one fan.) And Nina, the show's producer, cognizant of the show's sagging ratings, decides to exploit him for all he is worth. This unique mix of music, metaphysics, and lowdown hilarity is put over by a skilled cast of clowns. Heath Calvert gleefully mangles the English language as Byron. ("So be ready for a shocking surprise that will grab you by the seat of your pants until your eyes pop out.") Roe Hartrampf's Christian is a walking anxiety attack, gripped by lust and penance in equal measure. (At one point, he notes, thanks to his on-air activities, "Everyone in my congregation has been forbidden to even mention my name. Which is really inconvenient for them.") Autumn Hurlbert's Samantha is especially amusing as she transitions from clinging vine to the toughest of cookies. Lauren Molina's Megan is a riot whether on the make for Christian or turning, for the first time in her life, into a woman scorned. Leslie Kritzer packs a formidable amount of steel behind her smile as Nina, who sees an opportunity for better ratings in every setback. Rory O'Malley, who nearly walked off with The Book of Mormon, performs a similar piece of thievery as Evan, the show's number-one fan, delivering a bona fide showstopper in "The Twitter Song," in which he hyperventilates over each new development while simultaneously blogging and tweeting his reactions. ("God I love that Christian likes Megan even though she is a pagan and the drunkest person in the cast/And that girl Calista has already made my list-a people I don't think are gonna last!") As Jeff and Jenny, Bryan Fenkart and Aleque Reid display the kind of easy, offhand charm that is so often missing from contemporary musicals. Gaby Alter's score fits so seamlessly inside Moses' libretto that it's easy to underestimate, but his melodies are never less than agreeable, and in the case of "Which Love is Real," the theme song from Nobody Loves You, wickedly clever; even better, his lyrics are remarkably literate. He also provides an eleven o'clock number for Jeff that adds a welcome touch of real feeling to these otherwise unhinged proceedings. Mark Wendland's shiny two-level set a blessedly flexible concept; with only the slightest adjustments it takes us from the television studio to various other locations; the designer also provides a slick Nobody Loves You logo that flies in and out as needed. Ben Stanton's lighting design, which includes an upstage wall of LED units, creates warm tungsten looks for the more intimate scenes and a range of icy whites and saturated colors for the on-air scenes. Jessica Pabst's costumes are especially helpful for the actors who are triple-cast in smaller roles; one look at their clothes and they are instantly identifiable. Dan Moses Schreier's sound design is harder and brighter than usual for him, but it is appropriate to the score. Still, the orchestrations, by Alter and Dan Lipton, could be a little less brash, allowing us to take in the rapid-fire lyrics more easily. As it happens, it takes considerable intelligence to spoof a phenomenon as mind-numbing as reality television. Fortunately, the creative team of Nobody Loves You has it in spades. This is light entertainment of a very high order. --David Barbour 
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