HOLLYWOOD TARGETED IN ‘WELLES’

Slight but sharp, “Who Killed Orson Welles?” takes aim at contemporary Hollywood. The target may be familiar, but the satiric thrusts generate a surprising amount of laughter, thanks to writer/director Dan Zukovic’s unsparing sensibility and some wonderfully observed performances.

The one-hour show is actually made up of two sketches and a broken-up monologue, which initially appear unrelated. But Zukovic ties them together in a satisfyingly neat package.

One of his points is that the American masses get the entertainment they deserve. Those masses are represented by two Hawaiian-clad guys from Milwaukee (Duane Whitaker and Bill Sehres), who arrive at LAX determined to pose for snapshots with some big celebrities, and also by the faces of a hundred moviegoers (drawn by an uncredited artist) watching the proceedings from the walls of the stage.

The Milwaukee duo meets no celebrities. But they do find a Middle Eastern moneybags (Zukovic) who’s trying to cast his movie “Vampire Housewives of Beverly Hills” by having a drink with a toadying agent (Daniel Roebuck) and his latest discovery, New York performance artist Duchenka (Anneke Van Lippen).

They also encounter a hollow-eyed fellow (Rick Askew), who actually had a part in a 1971 “Mission: Impossible” episode. He hasn’t worked since then, but he still believes the cliches about the significance of an actor’s calling.

The entire cast is attuned to the smallest nuances. That includes Mitch Mayer as a waiter who pays dearly for his feeble ambitions. This character’s humiliation is painfully funny, with the accent on the painful.

Whitaker and Brad Zukovic also contributed to the script, and Frank Morant and Andrew Tsao designed the evocative lights and sound. Performances are at the tiny Cassandra Gaylor Theatre, 6543 Santa Monica Blvd., Fridays and Saturdays at 9 p.m. Tickets: $5; (213) 461-0735.

‘ZEN JUDAISM’

David Zasloff has dubbed himself the “zabbi” of “Zen Judaism,” and presents “evening services” in his “zemple” at the Richmond Shepard Theatre Complex.

Fortunately, he doesn’t take the z’s any farther, nor does he take himself seriously. “Zen Judaism” is an amiable collection of quiet jokes and louder musical stunts, with only a few superficial references to Zen or Judaism or anything else of much consequence.

One of those references, a performance of “Flight of the Bumble Bee” on a shofar (ram’s horn), might offend very religious Jews. But generally this is an extremely benign entertainment by a man who looks and moves like the younger Steve Martin.

He might also be compared to another Steve--Steven Banks, who happens to perform his “Home Entertainment Center” next door. Banks and Zasloff sing, drum, and perform on a variety of other instruments. But unlike Banks, Zasloff addresses the audience directly; his material isn’t as shaped, as finished or as funny.

Still, he passes the time pleasantly, and his musical interludes--his whale impressions on a trumpet, for example--are deft as well as daft.

Performances are at 6476 Santa Monica Blvd., Fridays and Saturdays at 10:30 p.m. Tickets: $5; (213) 463-8086.

‘BOBBY’

“Bobby,” at the Eagle, begins as a boy-meets-girl musical. Then the boy falls for the girl’s best friend, another boy, and he tells the girl he’s had plenty of other homosexual experiences. For a moment, it looks as if this might be an AIDS musical. Then the girl and the second boy lose their common love to the throes of suicidal depression.

“Leave It to Jane” this isn’t.

Given the subject matter, though, “Bobby” isn’t all that disturbing. Neither Sam Bernstein’s script nor Bruce Keller’s score particularizes these characters enough to breathe life into them. They seem like ciphers instead of people, and it’s hard to care about their fate.

The entire show has an antiseptic look and sound. Much of the music could be on an audition tape for an easy-listening group. Even when Keller’s musical lines become more ambitious, in the second act, his lyrics aren’t quite up to the job. Too often they’re either graceless or obvious.

Two casts alternate, under Cate Caplin’s direction. No one in the group I saw last Sunday added anything distinctive to this show, which desperately needs someone’s personal touch.

Performances are at 182 N. Robertson Blvd., Beverly Hills, Thursdays through Saturdays at 8 p.m.; Sundays at 7 p.m., through Aug. 16. Tickets: $12.50-$15; (213) 876-9637).

‘SPOTLIGHT’

Jack (Richard Zavaglia), a Brooklyn shoe salesman who was once a budding comedian, has just retired in order to give comedy another whirl.

He would like the help of his 31-year-old son Ted (George Solomon), a successful comic who lives on the Coast with wife and 3-year-old kid. But Ted thinks Jack drinks too much and doesn’t pay enough attention to him and his little boy.

Now--write the play.

Most people would fill in the blanks just as Seth Kadish did in “Spotlight” at the Rose. Perhaps they would omit Kadish’s very tentative exploration of Ted’s sister’s love life, and let’s hope they would leave out the cheap bit of offstage melodrama that brings Kadish’s play to an artificially inflated conclusion. But generally “Spotlight” is a prefabricated imitation of too many other parent-child scripts.

The actors go through their paces as well as can be expected, despite a shabby set and Phiamma Elias’ vacuous “director’s notes,” printed in the program for our edification (“ ‘Spotlight’ is a play that looks at truth in its many dimensions . . .”).

Performances are at 318 Lincoln Blvd., Venice, Thursdays through Saturdays at 8 p.m. Tickets: $10; (213) 392-6963.