This 'Don Juan' fails to seduce

SAN JOSE - "Maybe it's God's will," says the hero of John PiRoman's comedy, "but the women in this country need

me." Guillermo Galiano, a Cuban American living in New Jersey, is an exceptionally talented hairdresser by day, an impassioned Latin crooner in a Union City restaurant by night. But it isn't his skill in either of these professions to which he refers.

As the title of PiRoman's "Sons of Don Juan" implies, Galiano's gift to women is of a far more fundamental nature. Nor, for all his benign self-satisfaction about his romantic prowess, do the women in the play offer any reason to take him at less than his word. They seem so happy to share him that you keep wondering how PiRoman will generate enough conflict to get our sympathies involved in his pleasant little setup. He never really does.

A Cuban American TV soap ("All My Children") and film ("How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents") writer, PiRoman seems to be crafting more of a potential pilot for a sitcom than a viable stage piece here. "Don Juan" made its debut in 1992 at Florida's Asolo Theatre. Its West Coast premiere (and second pro

The basic setup is potentially complicated enough for an old-fashioned farce, and Gonzalez and company do their best to play up those elements. Eric Sinkkonen's set craftily revolves from the low-glitz cabaret stage of the El Paso Doble Restaurant - lit in neon glows by Derek Duarte - to the spacious back room that serves double duty as dressing room and makeshift boudoir. Slyly mocking touches in Meg Neville's cleverly coordinated Jersey-glamour costumes and Jeff Mockus' urban-street sound effects help set the comic expectations.

Galiano, smoothly played by Broadway star Robert Cuccioli (a Tony nominee as the title character[s] in "Jekyll & Hyde"), has become romantically involved with three women by the end of the first act. Blanca (a solid but sporadically engaged Christine Avila), his already established romantic and singing partner, is a middle-aged Mexican American housewife whose Irish husband has been neglecting her needs (except financially).

and head of his local fan club, is an Anglo aspiring singer with a broad Jersey accent whose fling with "Gwilly" (as she calls him) is just what she needs to overcome the self-esteem problems of a recent divorce and ongoing orthodontia. Lila Luz (a whirlwind-perky Mari-Esther Magaloni) is a Cuban American celebrity newscaster who drops by for an interview and likes what she sees.

The idea is clearly that Galiano will grow out of his rooster-ish ways and realize he really wants to settle down with Blanca. But PiRoman has only sketched that story, rather than developed it. He doesn't exploit the humor of the awkwardness of the situation - with each woman walking in on Galiano and one of the others at various times - nor of the lack of jealousy between them. Nor has he given us much reason to believe that Blanca is the one Galiano should end up with, or to care.

Meanwhile, there's another primary plot developing, having to do with the cash-strapped Galiano's efforts to buy the restaurant. The unsolicited help he receives from on-the-make street punk Iggy Jimenez (a delightfully shifty, pushy Gendell Hernandez) lands him in trouble with the Cuban American mob in the person

of a coolly menacing Julian Lpez-Morillas.

Other key players include Galiano's loyal assistant and gay black countryman Fernandito (an engagingly sharp Colman Domingo), whom he doesn't appreciate until almost too late, and the club's in-house piano-player Otto (genially portrayed by musical director Billy Philadelphia, who also provides expert accompaniment for the occasional songs).

The two stories don't really interconnect and build upon each other. PiRoman has a tendency to state plot twists - and character development - rather than dramatize them. He also seems not to have decided whether he's writing a sitcom or a soap. The mnage cuatro setup could be the basic situation for either, with the mob entanglement the primary story for one episode. But the two elements should be better interwoven no matter what the medium.

Where PiRoman most succeeds is in lacing his script with cleverly crafted barbs and punch lines, though a standing joke about a jukebox is a bit lame. He plays lightly with the inanity of ethnic identity coinages (Lila calls herself a "Latin American American" and refers to doing things the "Latin American-American

American way"). He gently exploits the humor in Fernandito's gay-black-Cuban "one minority too many" dilemma, and delights in Galiano's machismo ("If you want to know a woman's nationality," he gravely advises, "the best way is to look at her nipples").

Cuccioli thrives on the cockiness of his quietly preening, good-hearted Galiano, tossing off unconsciously smug one-liners with great aplomb. And he sings beautifully, crooning his Cubano love songs in a resonant baritone. Neither he nor director Gonzalez, though, has been able to infuse his romantic and business problems with the tension PiRoman hasn't provided.

Schroeder and Magaloni romp brightly through the rich comedy of their hilarious accents and their carnal hunger - Schroeder melting with anticipation when she stands next to Cuccioli; Magaloni almost swooning with sudden lust when faced with his crotch. Oddly, none of Cuccioli's scenes with Avila generate anything approaching the same heat. Domingo and Hernandez provide engaging comic support throughout.

There's enough pleasantry in the lines, and delightful enough performances, to make for a fairly amiable two hours and 20 min

utes. But there's little about PiRoman's "Don Juan" that adds up to much more than an evening spent at home with the TV.

Theater Review

'Sons of Don Juan'

PLAYWRIGHT John PiRoman

DIRECTOR Amy Gonzalez

CAST Robert Cuccioli, Christine Avila, Erica Schroeder, Mari-Esther Magaloni, Colman Domingo

THEATER San Jose Repertory, San Jose, through Feb. 27 (408-367-7255) <