Theatre in Review: Summer Shorts, Series A (59E59)Even for a series called Summer Shorts, this program of three one-acts may be too weightless for its own good. Each in its way tries to grapple with serious issues, but each falls short of its goal, mostly thanks to underwriting. Still, the pleasures of a solid cast and some sharp dialogue make for a watchable, if not really memorable, evening. The evening kicks off with the liveliest entry, Roger Hedden's The Sky and the Limit, which focuses on George and Aldie, best friends in their late 20s who are taking a mesa-hopping backpack trip somewhere in the American West. George takes a spill from a considerable height -- both of them have been doing mushrooms -- and while he is recovering, he and Aldie take part in a tart, funny discussion that illuminates the limits of their privileged world. For example, the following exchange springs from the revelation that George's fiancée has a Jewish parent: Aldie: Shawnee Potter is Jewish? George: Yeah, on her mother's side. Aldie: Dude, that's the side that counts. George: What do you mean? Aldie: It's women who carry the Jew gene. George: Who decided that? (Pause.) Aldie: Yahweh. George: Who's that? Aldie: God. George: God? I thought his name was "God." Aldie: The God of the Old Testament. But it's against the Jewish religion to ever say his name. They call him G dash D. If they absolutely have to -- and then they whisper it -- G dash D. George: Man, I got to do some reading up on this. Aldie: That's what college was for. Why didn't you take "Comparative Religions?" George: Because I consider myself spiritual but not religious. Soon after, however, disaster strikes -- I can't say any more about it, since the surprise is one of the play's strongest points -- and the action leaps forward an unspecified amount of time for a confrontation between one of the young men and Ruth, mother of Shawnee, the fiancée. This later scene is meant to probes issues of guilt and forgiveness, but it is too brief and insubstantial to have much impact; the conversation has barely gotten going when it is over. In any case, Alex Breaux and Shane Patrick Kearns banter amusingly and Allison Daugherty brings plenty of nuance to the role of Ruth. Billy Hopkins' direction has an easy, casual charm. Warren Leight's Sec. 310, Row D, Seats 5 and 6 is more clever in concept than in execution. The title refers to two seats in Madison Square Garden that are alternatingly occupied at a series of Knicks games over the years by a trio of male friends. It begins memorably in 1994, when the playoff game against the Houston Rockets is interrupted by coverage of O. J. Simpson's notorious flight from the police in a Bronco SUV. Each scene moves the action ahead a couple of years, with reports of marriages, divorces, births, family deaths, and many, many dating woes. Of course, all of this unfolds in front of a series of losing games; Leight's amusing central point is that nothing stays the same in this world, except for the agony of being a Knicks fan. Still, the dialogue isn't as sharp as it might be, and, as staged by Fred Berner, with each actor miming the business of shimmying across a crowded bleacher to his seat, the scene changes seem to take up as much time as the play. Nevertheless, Peter Jacobson, Geoffrey Cantor, and Cezar Williams are solid as the three woebegone basketball fans; Jacobson's near-apoplexy at the team's bad fortune is especially laugh-provoking. When told that Phil Jackson, the team's president, has warned that fans shouldn't expect too much of the current season, Roman explodes with incredulity: "He's worried about managing expectations? Of Knicks fans? Has he BEEN HERE the last 20 years?" Eric Lane's Riverbed, the least exciting offering, features a husband and wife describing, in he said/she said fashion, the agony that followed the loss of their young daughter who drowned in an accident and their tentative steps back to some kind of normality. Conceived largely as a piece for two narrators, it is undramatic and the overall message about healing is more than a little banal; it's a feel-bad piece that lacks any real reason for being. The characters don't have much individual life and the action moves too smoothly along the track, arriving at a prearranged moment of grace. Adam Green and Miriam Silverman do their considerable best as the couple, but the script is predictable and surprisingly lacking in real feeling. Matthew Rauch's direction is thoroughly professional. All three plays are staged on Rebecca Lord-Surratt's unit set, which features a deck and upstage wall made of wooden slats. Greg MacPherson's lighting creates a distinctive atmosphere for each play, largely through a variety of differing color treatments on the upstage cyc. Meghan Healey's costumes are fine, as is Nick Moore's sound design, although his original music for Riverbed may be a little too studied in its sensitivity. Even the least effective Summer Shorts program allows some young talents to leave their calling cards, and so it is here. Still, with names like Neil LaBute and the too-long-absent Albert Innaurato attached, it's hard not to be more excited about Series B, which opens in a couple of weeks.--David Barbour 
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