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In the bay city, sometimes you feel like a nut

And sometimes you don't. A weekend of theater in San Francisco is both eyebrow-raising wacky and low-key wonderful.

June 13, 2004|Craig Nakano | Times Staff Writer

San Francisco — In the alternate universe of San Francisco, all the world really is a stage.

It's a place where many entrants in the premier athletic competition, the annual Bay to Breakers, care little about race times but obsess about costumes. (Think suits -- as in chicken, lobster, birthday.) It's a place where one restaurant's acclaimed cuisine is served not by waiters, but by "gender illusionists." And it's a place where the entrepreneurial homeless don't simply panhandle, they offer to play songs on an invisible guitar or rent you a pigeon.

All the men and women here really are merely players, or so it seemed when I visited last month. San Francisco loves a good show, and I came seeking several. My goals: to enjoy a couple of plays, watch the curtain rise on the California Academy of Sciences' spiffy new home and check out the theater district's Hotel Adagio, one of the city's newest boutique lodgings.

Statistics indicated I was hardly alone. One in three overnight guests comes here specifically for arts and culture, according to the San Francisco Convention and Visitors Bureau. San Francisco International Airport reported an 8% increase in arrivals for the first three months of 2004 compared with a year ago, and analyst PKF Consulting said first-quarter hotel occupancy has risen 11.8% over the same period last year.

Waiting in the wings as a beneficiary of the recovery are San Francisco's theaters. Larger houses such as the Orpheum (where Disney's "The Lion King" runs at least through Sept. 5) and the Curran (where "Big River" was scheduled to open last week) share the scene with smaller venues, places such as Exit Theatre (, producer of the San Francisco Fringe Festival in September, and Intersection of the Arts, which this month is presenting Dave Eggers' "Sacrament!" (

I chose arguably the two most beloved theatrical institutions in the city, American Conservatory Theater and "Beach Blanket Babylon."

An extravaganza of song, satire and shtick, "Beach Blanket" has managed to parlay pop culture and pop music into its own form of pop art. It celebrates its 30th anniversary this month -- more than 11,000 performances before 4.5 million people. To test its cross-generational appeal, I invited my 74-year-old father and bought tickets ($43 each plus service charges) that put us three rows from the stage.

"Beach Blanket" follows Snow White as she crosses the globe in search of true love with the help of an Aretha Franklin-sized fairy godmother stuffed in a pink Tinkerbell costume. But the plot is an unabashedly transparent device for 90 minutes of nonstop musical numbers, sight gags and impersonations -- much of it proudly low-brow.

An Arnold Schwarzenegger look-alike clad in leather sang "Great Balls of Fire." A Bjork double appeared in a swan dress and laid an egg onstage. When a pseudo Demi Moore showed up trailed by an Ashton Kutcher impersonator pedaling a tricycle, I wasn't sure Dad would get the joke. But there he was, laughing with the other 392 people packed into North Beach's Club Fugazi.

"Demi and Ashton," he said. "Now that's funny."

The showstoppers are the legendary hats, at times as tall as the actors. The finale involved a wedding cake and seven dwarfs crowning the newly wed Snow White.

Shakespeare this is not. But it's hard not to fall under the show's spell and appreciate it as a classic piece of San Francisco. Where else, I wondered, would a campy revue be so successful that it could celebrate its 30th anniversary by giving the city's ballet, opera and symphony $100,000 each?

If "Beach Blanket Babylon" is the Adam Sandler of the theater scene, then the American Conservatory Theater is its Meryl Streep. In its 37th season at the Geary Theater, A.C.T. on June 24 will present the world premiere of "The Good Body," more anatomical musings from "The Vagina Monologues" playwright Eve Ensler.

I caught a matinee of "A Mother," Constance Congdon's black comedy about the infectious greed afflicting a dysfunctional Russian family after the death of its patriarch. For $49 plus a $5 online service charge, I got a front-row, lower-balcony seat to see Olympia Dukakis in the title role as the deliciously conniving and desperate widow Vassa Petrovna Zheleznova.

Dukakis was stellar, but it was veteran stage actor Tom Mardirosian (known to many TV viewers as Agamemnon Busmalis on "Oz") who earned the most yuks as a lecherous uncle hooked on a male-potency serum.

Something old, new

A block down the street from A.C.T. is the Hotel Adagio, where I spent two nights. The hotel, formerly the Shannon Court, underwent six months of renovation and reopened as the Adagio less than a year ago.

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