REEFER BLANDNESS

`I'm tired of trying to make this work," shouts Richard, the beer-bellied
truckdriver, and out he walks, taking his dog Skipper and his stash of
marijuana with him.

At this point, near the end of "Pot Mom," you may be thinking that Richard,
not the smartest man in the world, is nonetheless the brightest character
in this play.

By then, however, he and the audience have gone through several scenes of
high-decibel shouting and wisecracking, fueled by endless smoking of joints
and drinking of booze. And all to little purpose.

Justin Tanner, the show's author, is a Californian who has developed
something of a cult in Los Angeles with a play list that includes such
piquant titles as "Still Life with Vacuum Salesman." "Pot Mom"--which, like
most of his work, was first presented at CAST Theatre in Los Angeles--had
Laurie Metcalf in its original production and is lucky to have her and a
terrific cast for its Chicago transplant in the Steppenwolf Studio Theatre.

Tanner says just about all he has to say in his first, long scene, in which
Patty (Metcalf), about to go back to work after nine months on unemployment
compensation, is celebrating the end of her "vacation" by doing drugs with
her lusty, pot-smoking companion, Michelle (Rondi Reed).

Soon, they are joined in Patty's decrepit Southern California bungalow
(perfectly realized by scenic designer Mark Netherland) by her bellicose
boyfriend, Richard (Tom Irwin, with greasy hair and tattoo), and her three
teenage children from hell (Zoe Perry, Katie Cassis and Johnny Galecki).

A little later on, two zonked-out rockers (Matt Roth and Brendan Smith) and
two visiting country club princesses (Carey Peters and Dado) join the cast
of caricatures, adding their zaniness to the proceedings; but by then,
Tanner has pretty well shot his wad in character and plot development, and
it all starts to sound the same.

To give credit where it's due, the author has uncorked many nifty
California jokes for his cast to deliver. For example: Troy, Patty's randy
son (neatly played by Galecki), who works in a movie theater, says, "I'm an
usher, but I want to direct."

Director Wilson Milam, playing traffic cop on this expressway of quarrels,
confrontations and shouting matches, moves the actors briskly and funnily
through their paces. And the actors, reeling from living room to kitchen
and back again, go through their routines with tremendous skill and gusto.
(On Saturday night, Reed slammed into the kitchen with such force that she
broke a couple of slats in its swinging door.)

Perhaps Metcalf and company were drawn to this material because it reminded
them of the good old days, when they were tearing up the stage at
Steppenwolf with "Coyote Ugly" and "Killers," roaring, red-meat plays with
juicy, far-out characters.

They're still in fine form, and Metcalf, as always, is a pleasure to watch.
This time, however, instead of gnawing on a slab of raw beef, she's biting
into a veggieburger.

Checked-by: Richard Lake