‘Sylvia’ nearly undone by too-cute title character

Nevada Conservatory Theatre’s "Sylvia" gives us a tale of a middle-aged man obsessed with a stray dog.

Author A.R. Gurney offers a viewpoint from the animal (played in human form by Paris McCarthy) who struggles to figure out commands, begs for love and is helpless to control her instincts. (Her vulgar explosion at the sight of a cat and her answering of a mating call is a hilarious reminder that dogs are not just huggable teddy bears.)

In director Doug Hill’s production, the play belongs to the leading man. And it’s fortunate that Master of Fine Arts candidate Alan Dronek has the broad shoulders to carry the burden. When Dronek’s eyes are puzzled and frightened, you want to pet the poor guy. Yet the actor projects an everyman’s sensibility, a rock-solid sanity. This allows us to understand how unusual his erratic behavior is. Best yet, Dronek knows how to milk exaggerated comedy while never sacrificing character.

Dhyana Dahl well manages the difficult role of the wife who feels her husband’s affections drifting away. She nags a lot, but her anger is coated in love, so that we never think of her character as a villain.

Hill’s conception of the title character is too cute. The talented McCarthy seems here more of a stand-up comic than a living creature. Her relationship with the family never develops.

Likewise, John Maltese is made to play a loudmouthed dog lover, whom the husband meets in a park, as if he were a desperate lounge comedian. The character is cartoonish, but it doesn’t need all that directorial comment. But he does do an attitude-perfect bit as a mysticlike eccentric, half Pavlov, half Freud.

Erika Courtney’s lighting design easily transforms the bright lights of a Manhattan condo to the seductive, melancholy mood of a late-night city street. Jorge Ramon and Fonseca Cacho have created a generic apartment, but it’s backed by a series of high-rise "cut-outs" that suggest the allure of New York City.

There are belly laughs here. But the laughs might have had a stronger, more legitimate foundation if the director had allowed us to find them ourselves.

Anthony Del Valle can be reached at vegastheaterchat@aol.com. You can write him c/o Las Vegas Review-Journal, P.O. Box 70, Las Vegas, NV 89125