`Love Act' Rated Xxx, But It's Hilarious

Theater review "XXX Love Act," by Cintra Wilson. Directed by Phillip Endicott and Jeff Friesen. Produced by the Velvet Elvis Arts Lounge Theater, 107 Occidental S. Thursday through Sunday through July 3. 624-8477. -------------------------------------------------------------------

Once upon a time, in that era of bizarre cultural blips known as the early 1970s, it was considered hip and liberated to attend porno films. Cintra Wilson's "XXX Love Act" looks at the period's so-called "dark brothers," Jim and Arte Mitchell, whose dream of making pornography safe for Mr. and Mrs. America collapsed into drug addiction and murder.

The brothers, fictionalized as Randy (Troy Blendell) and Manny (Louis Barkan), first gained notoriety with "Behind the Green Door." "Door" was one of the few hardcore films to find an audience beyond the raincoat brigade.

As Wilson tells it, Randy was the aggressive neurotic while Manny exuded a kind of bashful aw-shucks-ness: We can see why bisexual stripper Persephone (Victoria Brooks) decides to dump her abrasive lover Angel (Vicki Hannon) and commit matrimony with this schmoe.

Heroin reduces Randy to hallucinatory ravings, and his relationship with Frisky (Abby Dylan), who is as intelligent as her name, quickly degenerates. In what can only be considered a mercy killing, Manny shoots Randy; journalists Reinholdt (Lawrence R. Harlow) and Gunther (Andy Wynn), modeled after Warren Hinckle and Hunter Thompson, dispense droll commentary like a gonzo Greek chorus.

A word of warning: Although "XXX Love Act" is vividly acted and briskly directed, it contains unappetizing boudoir follies. (Dave Geisheker's set suggests the lurid decor of a porno parlor, but Wilson has mischievously seen to it that only the men drop their drawers.)

Perhaps it's impossible to do a story about commercial sex that isn't repulsive and embarrassing, but the problem is exacerbated by two factors. First, the tone shifts abruptly from outlandish satire to realistic sordidness, thus losing momentum. Second, it clocks in at a length usually reserved for biblical epics and Elizabethan tragedies. Ninety minutes of pantomimed sex would be plenty for most mortals; few are prepared to endure it for 2 1/2 hours.

More's the pity because the best scenes in "XXX Love Act" are smart and funny send-ups of the flesh biz, handled with astonishing assurance. The Thompson character's florid, deadpan monologues are small gems of comic prose, and the postcoital babblings of Randy and Frisky scale similarly hilarious heights. As unpleasant as the play often gets, Wilson is a writer to watch.