Life Sucks.

C-

Playwright Aaron Posner has built a reputation adapting other authors’ works. Among those to have received the Posner treatment are Chaim Potok (I saw My Name Is Asher Lev several years ago and enjoyed it), Ken Kesey, Mark Twain, Kurt Vonnegut and, most recently, Anton Chekhov. First off was Stupid Fucking Bird, his take on The Seagull, which was well received. Then came No Sisters, his version of Three Sisters, which I don’t think has been seen in New York. Most recently, there is Life Sucks. which the program describes as “sort of adapted from Uncle Vanya.” Its Wheelhouse Theater Company production was dubbed a Critic’s Pick by the Times, so the show is now enjoying an encore run on Theatre Row with the same cast except for the title character. I’m afraid that I can’t join in the enthusiasm for the play. Posner’s method seems to involve using the F word as often as possible, adding a few contemporary touches such as a reference to student loans, and breaking the fourth wall not only to address the audience but to interrogate it. The list of characters mostly follows Chekhov except that family dependent “Waffles” has become “Pickles,” a lesbian, and Vanya’s mother has been replaced by a distant relative Babs, who is the closest thing to a well-adjusted character in the play. The acting is mostly solid. Austin Pendelton’s (Choir Boy) professor appeared so fragile that I feared he might not make it through the play. Kimberly Chatterjee (Pride and Prejudice) is a fine Sonia. Nadia Bowers (Describe the Night) is especially strong as the professor’s complicated wife Ella. Michael Schantz (Fashions for Men) is credible as Dr. Aster. Stacey Linnartz (Strange Bare Facts) does her best in the rather ludicrous role of Pickles. As Babs, Barbara Kingsley (August: Osage County) has almost nothing to do until late in the second act, when she commandeers the play for a lengthy reminiscence and a confession, neither of which remotely relates to Chekhov. Kevin Isola (Our Lady of 121st Street), who joined the cast as Vanya, seemed whinier than necessary. Except for a computer sitting on a table, the set by Brittany Vasta (Happy Birthday, Wanda Jane) with Tiffany lamps, floral wall hangings, generic furniture and a conspicuously unfinished back wall imprinted with instructions for the stagehands, could be anywhere anytime since the advent of electricity. The costumes by Christopher Metzger (Happy Birthday, Wanda Jane) are also nonspecific as to time or place. The direction by Jeff Wise (Happy Birthday, Wanda Jane) at times seemed sluggish, at other times indulgent. Aside for a few moments, such as the confrontation scene between Ella and Vanya, I was rarely moved. Perhaps if I had not seen Richard Nelson’s fine version at Hunter College this past season, I might have been more forgiving. In any case, this was not my cup of tea. Running time: two hours 30 minutes including intermission.

Our Lady of 121st Street

A-

Signature Theatre set the bar so high for their Stephen Adly Guirgis residency with last year’s first-rate production of his 2000 drama Jesus Hopped the ‘A’ Train that I was a bit apprehensive about whether they could maintain that high standard. I needn’t have worried. Their revival of this dark comedy from 2002 is every bit as good, if not better. This ensemble piece with twelve characters — and I do mean characters — is more like a series of connected sketches for pairs of actors than a plot-driven narrative, but with sketches that display Guirgis’s talent for writing inspiredly raunchy urban dialogue for a variety of damaged characters, that’s enough to keep me happy. A motley crew of past and present parishioners of a Harlem church have gathered for the wake of Sister Rose, a stern but loving nun who taught them all. The wake has been indefinitely postponed because someone has stolen Sister Rose’s body from the casket. We meet Victor (John Procaccino; Our Mother’s Brief Affair), an angry man whose pants were stolen while he slept; Balthazar (Joey Auzenne), an alcoholic cop; Rooftop (Hill Harper; Toast, Blue), an L.A. radio show host who abused his former wife Inez (Quincy Tyler Bernstine; The Amateurs); Father Lux (John Doman; The Other Thing), the priest who has to hear Rooftop’s first confession in 30 years; Flip (Jimonn Cole; X: Or, Betty Shabazz vs. The Nation), a closeted attorney who has brought along his less-than-butch lover Gail (Kevin Isola; Brooklyn Boy); [Why would any parent name their son Gail?] Norca (Paola Lazaro; To the Bone), a nasty woman with a short fuse; Edwin (Erick Betancourt; Jesus Hopped the ‘A’ Train), whose life is devoted to caring for his mentally disabled younger brother Pinky (Maki Borden; Inanimate); Marcia (Stephanie Kurtzuba; Billy Eilliot), Sister Rose’s neurotic niece; and Sonia (Dierdre Friel; Leap of Faith), whose reason for being there is hazy. As these characters engage, the ensuing dialogue is most often hilarious, although there are tender and sad moments as well. The actors are all solid. Mr. Harper and Ms. Kurtzuba are standouts in the showiest roles. Walt Spangler’s (Escape to Margaritaville) versatile set economically sets the mood. Alexis Forte’s (Between Riverside and Crazy) costumes are apt. Phylicia Rashad’s (Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom) direction is smooth and assured. I was enjoying myself so thoroughly that I was taken aback by the play’s abrupt and rather downbeat ending. Compared to the play’s other achievements, this disappointment was a minor blemish. Running time: two hours including intermission.