SELF STORAGE
Review by Michael Frym

Theater
Entertainment Today, May 18, 1990

Nestled under the Hollywood Freeway at the intersection of Franklin and Argyle sits the locale chosen by playwrights Tony Spiridakis and Shem Bitterman for their play Self Storage. A "you rent" storage bin housing two down-an-out would be film makers serves as the setting for this dark to the point of macabre comedy.

Hyped up, coke snorting promoter Max (Joe Pantoliano) has convinced ironically named screenwriter Tiger (Tony Spiridakis) to leave his job as a super in the Big Apple and move to Hollywood. Max also manages to weasel from Tiger his savings for them to live on until he can pedal one of Tiger's screenplays. However, no one is buying and the pair, down to their last pennies have taken up residence in the bin.

Into their dwindling existence comes the latest serial murderer, Cliff (Ron Perlman) known as the Westwood Strangler (he only kills UCLA co-eds). Max comes up with a script concept that will put them on Easy Street -- murder from the killer's POV. In his first promotional move, Max makes contact with slimy agent Arnie (Richard Zavaglia). What follows is perversely funny.

The cast is brilliant. Pantoliano generates a lovable detestability as the frenetic opportunist Max. His hug 'em/hate 'em character never lets up as he pursues what's best for Max.

Bullied and beaten, Spiridakis' Tiger -- actually, more of a kitten -- evokes empathy. His innocence and blind faith in Max border on stupidity. Spiridakis skillfully provides a lethargic foil for Pantoliano's high voltage delivery.

Zavaglia slithers through his performance as the slick Arnie. He presents the quintessential agent, bringing the house down with his manipulations and backstabbing tactics.

In an atypical role, Perlman shines as killer Cliff. His spontaneousness is consecutively unnerving and hilarious as he keeps the audience wondering what his next reaction will be.

Director Dan Lauria has mounted a very funny and at the same time very disturbing play. The show's primary shortcoming, like so many new works, can be found in the ending -- a whimper rather than a bang. But this doesn't detract from the great hour and a half that precedes it, so see it anyway-- the cast is worth it.

Lee Ranch's storage bin lit by Stephen C. Confer starkly mirrors the artists' meager existence. Barry Parker and Julia Bartholomew design costumes and sound, respectively.