Marga Gomez: "Lovebirds"

Marga Gomez's "Lovebirds" aims to appeal to happy couples around Valentine's Day. Also, to bitter singles. And possibly also to bitter couples. It covers a lot of ground that way.

"Lovebirds" is Gomez's tenth solo show since her debut at the Marsh in 1991, but the San Francisco funny woman breaks tradition by crafting a program about the lives of an ensemble of fictional '70s New York types rather than about herself. It's a melange of throwbacks to an era of radicalism both earnest and silly, and a decidedly mixed bag compared to her usual, more assured autobiographical work.

First we meet Polaroid Phillie, an aging photographer who snaps pictures of couples in bars and then hustles them into buying the photos by reminiscing about the past. Philly stands out as a very well-realized Gomez creature... but that's not necessarily a good thing right away.

She does indeed seem genuinely like someone you'd probably bump into in an odd New York bar at one in the morning, but she also seems like someone you'd desperately want to get away from there. Gomez softens the sharp elbows on the character as the show goes on and eventually brings her to a turn that's really quite sweet, but it's still a rough start.

Questionable dating tip: "You two should cohabitate."

Phillie is just the chorus, however; our real protagonist is Dahlia, an earnest, naive feminist lesbian student rebel thrashing around in search of an identity in the '70s Village scene. Dahlia's reflexive radicalism is a little bit funny and Gomez treads the tight line between character and caricature rather nicely, but between the show's brevity and the size of the one-woman ensemble she never really emerges or grows and eventually kind of falls by the wayside.

That's the problem with "Lovebirds": It's fine up to a point, but it's hard to really care about most of the people Gomez puts onstage because they rarely get very far past where they start.

A prime example/offender is the supporting figure of a chauvinist professor who lectures on the merits of never sleeping (noting that the only drawback is the "constant waking dreams,"). It's a funny joke -- very funny. But that's all it is: one joke. After about a minute the character's role should be mostly over, but he sticks around anyway.

Admittedly, Gomez does manage to squeeze in another amusing (and impossible to describe) scene in which the professor has a dream about being maced with a love potion (we told you it was impossible), but in the end he still stands out a lot without contributing much.

Questionable dating tip: "Lean into me like you're riding a motorcycle."

Two things keep "Lovebirds" from faltering completely, and the first is the one really great and very surprising role Gomez writes for herself: Dahlia's lounge lizard father, Orestes Ramirez. Yes, Orestes. Of the four or five principle characters, Orestes is the biggest surprise, first because it initially seems he's only there to be the disapproving, clueless father figure in Dahlia's story but then unexpectedly gets a very effective subplot of his own.

Orestes, as Gomez impersonates him, has a kind of blue-collar tackiness that feels honest and somehow endearing. His brief but well-realized story about falling in love with a married lounge singer whose voice is only beautiful to him manages to feel rather sincere. While Gomez's other characters are probably funnier, Orestes is the one you really care about, and he amounts to a truly great dramatic creation, accent and all.

Questionable dating tip: "I know your husband is sitting right there. That's what makes it funny."

The second thing "Lovebirds" has going for it is the surprise ending, which we dare not spoil here, but which does finally give much-needed context and form to the story that preceded it and also returns Gomez to the trademark casual-but-still-awkward style that everyone loves about her to begin with. It's just a shame there's not more of it.

"Lovebirds" can be witty and incisive, and has a few moments of really sound pathos, but it's also underdeveloped, sometimes aimless, and loses time lampooning dated '70s conventions that don't really matter anymore. Love is blind, so we suppose it's to be expected that a show about love can occasionally get itself lost.

The show is good for: Anyone who really does care about the '70s, no matter what we say.

The show is not good for: People who just want to see Gomez be herself.

"Lovebirds" runs through March 15 at the Marsh, 1062 Valencia St. in San Francisco. For information and tickets, call 415-282-3055 or visit themarsh.org