Regional

Blade to the Heat

 (Mark Taper Forum, L.A.; 760 seats; $35.50 top)

By CHARLES ISHERWOOD

Center Theater Group/Mark Taper Forum presents a play in one act by Oliver Mayer; director, Ron Link.
 
Cast: Dominic Hoffman (Mantequilla Decima), Ray Oriel (Pedro Quinn), Raymond Cruz (Vinal), Hassan El-Amin (Garnet), Sal Lopez (Alacran), Ellis E. Williams (Jack), Justina Machado (Sarita), Gerrit Graham (Reporter, Announcer, Referee); Wayne Brady, Cesar Hernandez, Maceo Hernandez, Michael Hernandez, Zilah Hill, Alfredo Ortiz, William Stephen Taylor, George Villas.
 

The Mark Taper Forum has certainly spared no expense in its spectacular production of L.A. playwright Oliver Mayer's "Blade to the Heat." Nor has Ron Link been at a loss for directorial flourishes, from lurid lighting to slo-mo, from an onstage percussion band beating out an ominous rhythm at key moments to that latest trick of the theatrical trade, full-frontal male nudity. A remarkable facsimile of a boxing gym has been constructed on the Taper stage, and a ring descends, as from the heavens, for impressively simulated fight sequences that are outdone only by the impressively simulated sex sequences. But this circus of stagecraft, sensational as it is, cannot serve to obscure -- and in the end may only serve to point up -- the essential thinness of the play itself, whose central and eventually belabored theme is the homoeroticism inherent in the sport of boxing, and the fertile ground this provides for bigotry to wreak havoc with the lives of the men in the ring.

In round one, Mexican-American fighter Pedro Quinn (Ray Oriel) upsets Cuban champ Mantequilla Decima (Dominic Hoffman) to take the title. But, as Pedro complains to his friend Garnet (Hassan El-Amin), an androgynous impersonator of '50s R&B idols (the play is set in 1959), he doesn't feel he deserves the champ's belt; he's uneasy in himself, as Oriel's simple performance telegraphs, though the playwright doesn't spend much time giving many layers to his unhappiness.

Back in the ring, Decima is fighting off a new pretender, Vinal (Raymond Cruz), who rebels against his defeat by grabbing the announcer's mike and calling his opponent -- and everyone else, it seems -- a"fag," "maricon."

Once the fatal word has been intoned in the appropriate languages, everyone starts getting jumpy. Decima's trainer Alacran (Sal Lopez) taunts Pedro with hints that he, not Decima, is the maricon in the boxing trunks. Decima himself begins questioning his machismo: Things with his girlfriend Sarita (Justina Machado) get touchy, and he has a nightmare about a pair of boxers getting it on.

Pedro's trainer Jack (Ellis E. Williams) confronts Vinal about his tactics, which Vinal admits are just that: an attempt to weaken his opponents before they even step into the ring. Swaggeringly assured of his own masculinity, he'll do anything to undermine that of his competitors. (Cruz gives a nice, forceful performance, but Link allows him to overindulge a stagy fondness for shouting.)

All this sexual anxiety, improbably or not, leads to an awakening of sorts in Pedro, who falls briefly into the arms of Garnet, in a scene that ends on a false note, one that makes too literal, and even silly, the psychological connections the author sees between boxing and sex. (This scene is the play's Waterloo, including as it does a speech about a dead dog that more seasoned authors would rightly quail before; the play doesn't recover.)

The chief fault of the play is that its author seems more enamored of his ideas -- about the psychology of boxing and of machismo, as well as the workings of racism in this milieu -- than his characters, who never take on much depth and never grab us by the heart.

Crooner Garnet, played with rich comic charisma by El-Amin, is the most affecting -- maybe because, as a non-pugilist, he's spared the weight of the play's ideas. As was reportedly the case with "Blade's" Gotham stint, directed by Public Theater a.d. George C. Wolfe, the production here is the star.

Link has expertly paced the play; it never loses its momentum. He draws fine contributions from lighting designer Anne Militello and sound designer Jon Gottlieb. Their work adds immeasurably to the theatrical jolt the play gets when the boxers are in the ring.

Michael Olajide's fight choreography reproduces perfectly the dancing grace of the sport, even if it can only approximate its brutality. All takes place on Yael Pardess' remarkable set, key to the fluid movement of the evening.

But without this panoply of effects -- have we forgotten to mention the onstage shower? Garnet belting out "La Vie en Rose"? the simulated locker-room rape scene? -- it's likely the play would wilt. Mayer spends most of his time shadowboxing with a single idea; the outcome of that bout is a split decision.

Set, Yael Pardess; costumes, Candice Cain; lighting, Anne Militello; musical accompaniment, East L.A. Taiko; fight choreography, Michael Olajide Jr. Artistic director, Gordon Davidson; managing director, Charles Dillingham; producing director, Robert Egan. Opened March 28, 1996; reviewed March 27; runs through May 5. Running time: 1 hour, 50 min.