Taking their talents off-Strip

Thursday, Jan. 4, 2007 | 7:03 a.m.

What: "Wake Up and Smell the Coffee"

When: 3 and 8 p.m. Tuesday and Wednesday (additional performances will be at 3 p.m. Jan. 14; 3 and 8 p.m. Jan. 16-17; and 3 p.m. Jan. 21)

Where: Las Vegas Little Theatre, 3920 Schiff Drive

Tickets: $20, 360-9959

The whole of America is in Wayne Wilson's spacious two-story Summerlin home, where earth-tone walls, creme-colored tiles, shag carpet and a lovely view of back yard roses scream comfortable, safe, suburban.

But in his kitchen a diverse group - drug addict, corporate executive, reverend, lonely salesman, lousy father, great father - bellows its triumphs and tragedies.

Sun pounds on the blinds. A neighbor's dog barks. The back door opens and in rushes Gonzalo Munoz, crazed and screaming, "We're living in a toilet! I say flush the toilet!"

What must the neighbors be thinking?

They're probably used to the theater that is Wilson's world.

A performer in "Le Reve," Wilson and fellow cast members and crew stepped out in April to stretch their artistic muscles in off-Strip performances of "This Is Our Youth" at the Las Vegas Little Theatre's Fischer Black Box Theatre.

On this afternoon, they're rehearsing "Wake Up and Smell the Coffee," a stream of ranting monologues by Eric Bogosian. They've transformed the one-man show into an ensemble that divided up the characters so each actor can delve in.

"We were looking for a solid piece that would fit our age group, a story that was really funny, really interesting," Wilson says.

Although some of Bogosian's writing borders on cliche and caricature, each member of this new ensemble transforms so perfectly into the souls of their characters that you become as miserable, amused, disgusted or enlightened as the imaginary characters around them.

And you know these people. You know the guy barbecuing in his back yard dressed in plaid shorts and a yellow golf shirt, standing before his grill and talking about panhandlers and other fears of city life. Daniel Passer's portrayal of a lonely and pathetic ceramic tile salesman could bring you to tears.

Bogosian dissects these elements of humanity. The cast becomes them. They created original music, sound, costumes and a video clip. But given their talent, they could soapbox it on a street corner and be just as effective.

The group, known as the New American Theatre Project, plans to continue to pool its resources. "Le Reve" has passed its 700-show mark, and performers are seeking alternate ways to fulfill themselves artistically and help ignite a flourishing theater community of professionally trained actors.

"To be able to keep flexible is so nice because you're in the same part for two years," says Passer, a clown in "Le Reve," who studied drama at Harvard and commedia dell'arte in Italy.

The company keeps the door open for any project: "If we want to make a play, we'll make a play. If we want to do a clown show, we'll do a clown show," Wilson says. He is co-directing the play with his old friend, Will Sturdivant, who came to Las Vegas from Minneapolis specifically for this play and will head back to Minneapolis in February. Sturdivant and Wilson studied in the University of Minnesota/Guthrie Theater Actor Training Program.

Wilson likes the idea of doing theater in Las Vegas:

"If we were in New York and did a good show, it wouldn't be such a big deal because they're a dime a dozen."

But the sky is the limit in Las Vegas, where community theater has had a history of tried-and-true musicals geared toward older audiences (with the exception of a couple of experimental companies).

"We can do whatever we want," Wilson says. "We have huge resources from all over. We just need a space - a venue to fail, to challenge ourselves. I'm going to do as many plays as I can."