The Babylon Line ** C-

Making fun of the conformity of life in Levittown 50 years ago is a bit like shooting fish in a barrel. The target is too easy. Nevertheless, Richard Greenberg’s look at a creative writing class in the local adult education program, now in previews at Lincoln Center Theater, initially shows promise. The presence of such stalwarts of the New York stage as Randy Graff, Julie Halston and Frank Wood as three of the students is a big help. Josh Radnor (Disgraced) is no slouch either as their teacher, an unsuccessful writer who makes the weekly trip from Manhattan to earn a few dollars. Ms. Graff plays a stereotypical overbearing yenta, who would be objectionable if she weren’t so amusing. Ms. Halston, as one of her friends, is more open-minded. Maddie Corman portrays another friend, who has a rocky marriage. Frank Wood plays a veteran suffering from what we now call PTSD, who seeks release in his writing. Michael Oberholtzer plays a strange young man, possibly on the spectrum, who is working on a magnum opus. The final student is a mysterious woman who has lived in Levittown for many years, but is unknown to the others. This character, portrayed by Elizabeth Reaser, whom I have admired on other occasions, has for some reason been saddled with a Southern accent that comes and goes. (Perhaps there was a course on Tennessee Williams next door and she wandered into the wrong classroom.) The first act proceeds smoothly, but after intermission things go seriously off the rails. The second act is overlong and overwrought, burdened with lame gimmicks and false endings. Richard Hoover’s classroom set is excellent. I can't vouch for the accuracy of  Sarah J. Holden’s period costumes, but they seem appropriate. Director Terry Kinney gets tripped up in the second act problems. There are several entertaining moments along the way, but by the end most of the goodwill I felt after Act One had vanished. At least it’s an improvement over Greenberg's last play, “Our Mother’s Brief Affair,” which he briefly references. Running time: 2 hours 20 minutes including intermission

Permission **

Can lightning strike twice in the same place? Not if the place is the Lucille Lortel Theatre and the bolt is aimed by playwright Robert Askins. His “Hand to God” was so successful there that it ended up on Broadway. I don’t see that future for this messy satire which deals with two thirtyish couples in Waco, Texas who are trying to make marriage work. Zach (Lucas Near-Verbrugghe) and Michelle (Nicole Lowrance) are practitioners of Christian Domestic Discipline — an actual movement — whereby the husband is clearly the wife’s boss and disciplinarian. When the wife misbehaves, it’s time for a spanking. Zach encourages his old friend Eric (a wonderful Justin Bartha), who’s a bit of a milquetoast, to follow their example. Since his wife Cynthia (a hilarious Elizabeth Reaser) spends her days lying around, drinking wine and watching “Matlock” reruns instead of working on her novel and cleaning house, Eric decides to give it a try. In the short run it works out well for him and Cynthia, but it can’t overcome serious problems in the other couple’s marriage. Using his new-found confidence, Eric foolishly gives encouragement to his adoring student secretary Jeanie (Talene Monahon). A get-together in Act Two turns into a near orgy for all five characters. While the play ends up spinning its wheels and not taking us to a clear destination, the ride is often hilarious. There are some very funny scenes and the fine cast wrings every drop of humor from them. The audience reaction was enthusiastic. I enjoyed it more than I admired it. I suspect that more time in workshop might have ironed out some of the rough spots. I would have left out the secretary subplot. David Korins’s set design cleverly transforms into several locations. Paloma Young’s costumes suit their characters well. Director Alex Timbers handles the physical humor admirably but can’t lend a sense of direction where it’s not present on the page. Running time: 1 hour 45 minutes including intermission.

The Money Shot **

The poster for Neil LaBute’s new comedy, now in previews at MCC Theater, is doubly misleading: the four actors do not end up in bed together and Fred Weller does not have hair on his chest. The play raises the question of whether the world really needs another satirical look at the denizens of Hollywood. They are both too easy and too frequent a target, unless the playwright has some new insight to share. That is not the case here. Steve (Weller) is an obtuse 50-ish action film hero whose fight against Father Time has led him to marry Missy (Gia Crovatin), an ex-cheerleader and would-be actress less than half his age. Since Karen (Elizabeth Reaser) came out as a lesbian, her movie career has been on the skids, despite her attempts to pump it up with a cookbook, website, charitable activities and marketing ploys. Her lover Bev (Callie Thorne) is a film editor with a pugnacious personality, to put it mildly. Steve and Karen are currently filming a movie that they hope will revive their careers. The European director has suggested that they liven up an upcoming bedroom scene by actually having sex. The four are gathered at Karen’s luxurious home in the Hollywood hills the night before filming, allegedly to negotiate with their loved ones how far they are allowed to go in the shoot. However, it is more than an hour into the play before they finally get around to the matter at hand. The first hour is devoted to a series of arguments over such weighty questions as whether David Crosby is Bing’s son and whether Belgium is really part of Europe. By the time they get around to arguing over where tongues may or may not be placed during the shoot, we have realized that LaBute’s own tongue is planted firmly in his cheek. There are many amusing lines, but it all adds up to absolutely nothing. The actors give it their all. Weller, who was billed as Frederick in Mothers and Sons is listed here as Fred; I wish he had also shed the pinched voice that was so annoying in McNally’s play. Derek McLane’s set is lovely, Sarah J. Holden’s costumes are just right and Terry Kinney’s direction is fluid. Too bad they didn’t have something more substantive to work on. Running time: 1 hour 40 minutes; no intermission.