Cast outshines the material in Steppenwolf's 'Voice Lessons'

It should surprise no one that Laurie Metcalf, French Stewart and Maile Flanagan perform like a well-oiled machine in “Voice Lessons,” the inaugural production in Steppenwolf's 1700 Theatre.

They've acted together in this farce by Justin Tanner off and on since its 2009 world premiere at Los Angeles' Zephyr Theatre and several subsequent productions. Now the show — about a community theater actress who hires a vocal coach to help make her a star — has landed in Chicago with its original cast intact.

The problem is the ensemble outperforms the play. Originally directed by Bart DeLorenzo, this three-hander unfolds as a rather mean-spirited comedy that mocks community theater performers for no discernible purpose other than taking swipes at some low-hanging theatrical fruit.

The play has no real affection for its characters nor does it offer any lessons or insight on the perils of self-delusion. In that respect, “Voice Lessons” strikes a sour note.

Yet, I found myself laughing, mostly at the broadly comic business involving Metcalf and Stewart. Best known for the TV comedy “Third Rock From the Sun,” Stewart in particular displays a side of himself we have never seen before.

Metcalf, a longtime Steppenwolf ensemble member nominated for a 2016 Tony Award, plays Ginny: a remarkably untalented, relentlessly overbearing community theater actress desperate to become a star.

To that end, she enlists help from Stewart's Nate, a tweedy, snobbish voice teacher who initially expresses reservations about taking the tone-deaf Ginny on as a student, but reconsiders after she offers him triple his hourly rate. She's serious about her aspirations and, thanks to an inheritance from her late father, she has the resources to pursue them.

Early on, it becomes apparent that this manic middle-aged woman has unresolved father issues, and a growing attraction for Nate. Less obvious are Nate's financial issues and his romantic relationship with Flanagan's Sheryl, Ginny's community theater rival.

Tanner defines his characters with a caricaturist's broad strokes, which means it's up to DeLorenzo's trio to humanize them. For the most part, they succeed. The acting throughout is bold and fearless (one character appears partially dressed, another appears completely nude).

More importantly, Metcalf, Stewart and Flanagan manage to find the pathos that underscores people who are more damaged than they will ever admit. Metcalf, a consummate pro, is especially skilled at revealing — in increments — Ginny's deep-seated pain.

Clearly this trio is having a good time. And they play well together. Imagine what beautiful music they could make if they had a composition that equaled their talent.