BWW Reviews: BUYER & CELLAR at PYGmalion Productions

The retail stores are "just like any other mall, except for the total lack of customers or employees," we're told near the beginning of "Buyer & Cellar," a delightful one-man show staged by PYGmalion Productions.

But there is actually one shopkeeper - and one customer. The shopper is also the mall's owner: Barbra Streisand. The mega-star has hired Alex More, a struggling actor and former Disneyland Toontown mayor walk-around character (who was fired for telling a taunting 6-year-old where to shove his churro), and given him the oddest of odd jobs.

You see, in the basement of one of La Streisand's multiple residences that comprise her Malibu manse there is a series of shops designed to look like a mini-mall. The shops include an antique store, gift emporium, doll shoppe, popcorn and frozen yogurt bar and sundry retail establishments. She has hired Alex as the custodian, and he also takes on the role of acting coach and improve scene partner during his employment.

Two write "Buyer & Cellar," playwright Jonathan Tolins, whose credits include "The Twilight of the Golds" and "Queer as Folk," uses as inspiration one sliver of a chapter of Streisand's "My Passion for Design," an ostentatious - no, "aspirational," Oprah calls it - coffee table book that offers a glimpse of her opulent homes. And he devises a story around the hiring ultimate firing of the fictional employee who manages the one-of-a-kind underground "shopping mall" establishment.

But through the characters More assumes, we also meet his multiple associates, including his boyfriend Barry, the estate's caretaker, and Mr. Streisand, James Brolin.

Vividly playing More is the irresistible Aaron Swenson, brilliantly directed by Teresa Sanderson. The laugh-out-loud references to obscure and popular bits from Broadway and Hollywood are precisely re-enacted by the gleefully funny actor. Yet beyond the name-dropping, there's discussion of serious cultural inquiry: the cult of celebrity and the painful isolation that comes with excessive fame and fortune.

Sanderson keeps the pace clipping along and with every expression and intonation Swenson facilely counterbalances to both delightfully entertain and incisively illuminate.

Adding to the strength of the production is the scenic design by Andrea Beecher, sound design by Mikal Troy Klee, and costumes (including the "Gigi"-style dress on a mannequin in an onstage storefront window display) credited to Swenson and Sanderson. Only distracting is the frenetic lighting by Jesse Portillo.