STAGE REVIEW : ‘My Rebel’ Defeated by Its Soap Opera Plot

There are several factors that work against Doris Baizley’s new play, “My Rebel.” For one, the A Directors’ Theatre production it receives at the Lex under the direction of Evelyn Purcell is competent, nothing more.

For another, it is a play about events surrounding a group of friends, Vietnam-era peace activists. The Vietnam War left a tragic legacy among vets who returned to a country that was less than grateful for the pains they took, right or wrong. We’ve all heard about post-traumatic stress syndrome. But the legacy among the protesters who stayed home and agitated is fuzzier, less chronicled and oddly inglorious.

Life catches up. All those people who were so sure you shouldn’t trust anyone over 30 grew silent as they slipped past that age themselves. We now have return concerts by the middle-aged Who and Ringo Starr. Abbie Hoffman and Huey Newton are dead. And the biggest war left is the war on drugs--and perhaps self-involvement.

So any play about the vociferous ‘60s is fighting an uphill battle. There may come a time when the national nostalgia will be fired up again by those tumultuous years, but that time isn’t now and Baizley’s play is not the play to inspire it. As a piece of writing, it is not commanding enough to compel real attention.

The dilemma it reports is that of a young protester and Yale dropout, Petey (Jamie Younger), scion of upper middle-class country-club types, who decides to turn in his peace signs and enlist. Why isn’t exactly clear. Pressure from Daddy (John Shearin) perhaps, or imagined pressure from Daddy. In any case, Daddy and Mommy (Patricia Estrin) seemed pleased that Petey’s off to war. Or are they?

Again, not clear. They’re pleased enough to throw a farewell bash for Petey at the country club. It is attended by his Ivy League friends: Lou, an aspiring film maker (Dedee Pfeifer); Anne, who works as a counselor and has Quaker pacifist beliefs (Sabina Weber); Monk (Todd Merrill), an art student, and Petey’s girlfriend Mimi (Michelle Joyner), to whom Petey proposes if she’ll wait. She says she will.

Most of these “friends” disagree with Petey’s decision to enlist but don’t have the honesty or moral fiber to tell him so or stay away. And the poor guy’s barely set foot on Vietnam soil before Mimi has jumped into bed with Monk.

Mimi and Petey exchange tapes rather than letters--a convenient device in the theater that allows us to hear what they have to say to each other. As Petey’s declarations of love intensify, Mimi’s depression increases, since she’s apparently not impervious to her duplicity. When Petey’s killed, she tailspins.

And so does Petey’s mother, who is transformed (not very convincingly) by his death into some sort of ardent peace activist while his father becomes a bit of a dodderer. By now, the play has turned into major soap opera and nobody--or at least not this writer--much cares what happens to anyone.

These are all shallow, self-deluded and self-centered individuals who don’t inspire much feeling of any kind. Baizley has put nothing into this dissertation that makes us want to sit up and take notice.

She can do and has done better than this. The piece, like its characters, feels faintly self-important. And the bare-minimum production, rather gloomily lit by Michael Gilliam, is ultimately enervating.

At 6760 Lexington Ave., Hollywood, Thursdays through Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 7 p.m. Indefinitely. Tickets: $12.50-$15; (213) 466-1767).