Playwright: Ronnie Larsen
At: Theatre Building, 1225 W. Belmont
Phone: ( 773 ) 327-5252; $25-$35
Runs through: April 13
10 Naked Men is gay theater, but that doesn't mean it's good theater. First off, the title is a come-on. Yes, there are 10 men, and yes, they all appear nude in a quick line up for the audience, holding cards in front of their packages. Yes, several characters appear nude later on. Still, the title promises more than the play delivers, coyly restricting its best-built guys to brief bare-ass flashes.
It's just as well. If you pay good money to see naked men on stage, you want them to be something special, and these guys are not. In every way, this cast is average: average bodies ( skinny to moderate muscle to middle-aged spread ) , average dicks and average acting at very best ( praiseworthy only for Preston Lee Britton's comic timing in a lead role ) . If I want to see average, I can look in the mirror after I shower. Indeed, by the standards of 10 Naked Men, I'm prime aged beef.
Also, everyone is pale as a ghost. I don't mean that the entire cast is white ( they are, and need not be ) , but that no one has a tan even though the dialogue makes a point about the Southern California look. The producers haven't anted up for tanning sessions.
It might not matter if the play didn't portray half its characters as the hottest guys in West Hollywood. For WeHo is the setting of 10 Naked Men, and a very self-loathing gay place it is, too, even in a comedy context. As conceived by author and director Ronnie Larsen, every character is sleazey, a hustler, dumb as dirt, nelly or some combination thereof. What's more, they only have sex with hustlers. It's WeHo, for cryin' out loud, but no one can get laid unless he pays for it, and no one has an honest or fulfilling relationship.
The play is crowded with incident, but there isn't any character development in Larsen's unfunny Hollywoodland of hopelessly naïve movie wannabes and simplistic gay stereotypes. One lead character is a West Point graduate who's thrown over the Army to be an actor ( never mind his commission and obligatory service ) . The idea of a gay cadet could be interesting, but not the thick-as-bricks cliché beefcake Larsen offers as he delivers his thesis that all men are whores, selling our bodies or talents or connections. He's probably right: after all, I caved to my editor's request that I see this play, and I'll get paid for this review. But if you want to spend your money on a full-monty show, go see Naked Boys Singing right next door. The writing is better, the fellas are cuter, and they can carry a tune.
