'HOUSE' IS NOT A TOME.

Byline: Evan Henerson Theater Critic

To say that publishing maven Thomas McCormack strayed dangerously out of his element when - after a prosperous career heading St. Martin's Press - he decided to turn to playwrighting, would be an easy shot to fire. The man who edited ``The Far Pavilions'' and ``The Silence of the Lambs'' has more than earned the right to quit his day job and pick up a pen whose ink is any color other than red.

With his first full-length play, McCormack is writing what he knows. ``House,'' which has its world premiere at Burbank's Falcon Theater, is a dirty-dealings drama set - guess where! - in a New York publishing house. To the playwright's credit, the insider editor/author machinations feel like they come from an informed source. Those letters from those desperately hopeful would-be authors could have sprung directly from the ``not in a million years'' files at Doubleday or Scribner's.

While McCormack has an ear for the way literate people talk to each other, his plot structure and character shadings leave something to be desired. ``House'' is slow to develop and too easily resolved. With few exceptions, its characters are message deliverers rather than people. Director Steve Zuckerman gets a terrific performance out of Christopher Curry and an entertaining star turn from Harry Hamlin, as dueling editors. The chances that these two characters would ever work in the same company seems highly unlikely, and, not surprisingly, Curry and Hamlin are acting in two different plays.

At stake is a respected publishing house. An ailing Joshua Maynard (played by William Schallert), the principled president and CEO of Joshua Maynard Books, is on the brink of retirement and the ranks are abuzz over his potential choice for a successor. His choices are Griff (Curry), an ethical intelligent former philosophy professor who doesn't really want the job, and Ted (Hamlin), a slickster numbers guy with a money-over-content attitude, who would probably crawl over the carcass of his dead grandmother to fill Joshua's seat.

The firm also has an aging editor named Grover (Neil Vipond), a close friend of Josh's who is dangerously close to being put out to pasture, and a bevy of editors and editorial assistants who are either scheming, concerned or a little bit of both. With the bank getting antsy over the house's flagging finances, change is in the air.

Over the course of a week, the new CEO is chosen, deals are struck and major editorial decisions are made. An egotistical movie star has a salacious tell-all autobiography he wants published, not edited. A powerful right wing think tank is offering attractive financial incentives for Maynard to publish a series of books; a reclusive author is encouraged to change the ending of her book to help the house reap a financial windfall. And on it goes.

Hamlin's Ted oozes from scene to scene, administering behind the scenes poison. Immaculately dressed, polished and calling people ``dove'' or ``tulip,'' he's so transparently foul that Ted becomes the guy you love to hate, not the guy you respect for knowing which way the wind blows. Griff's ambiguities feel less manufactured (although McCormack's tacked-on post-script about the character's family situation rings contrived). Curry infuses him with the quiet intelligence the character deserves. Vipond and Stacey Martino are equally assured as Grover and Sara, Joshua's out-of-the-loop daughter.

Playgoers may recognize in Ted's arguments echoes of Larry ``the Liquidator'' Garfinkle - the ruthless corporate downsizer from Jerry Sterner's ``Other People's Money.'' But McCormack possesses neither Sterner's cynicism nor his playful sense of cruelty. ``House'' could use an engine, a Garfinkle, but Ted feels like the naughty cousin. ``House'' should be tighter, shorter in length and possessed of far less plot clutter. Zuckerman can't really keep up when the play tries to switch tones.

Yael Pardess' set is a series of work stations, a board room, a wheelchair ramp Joshua uses and the obligatory skyline light projections (by Jenny Okun) that so many New York-set plays feel it necessary to use. And call it quibbling, but shouldn't at least one of the editor's desks at Joshua Maynard Books contain a computer?

``HOUSE''

Where: Falcon Theater, 4252 Riverside Drive, Burbank.

When: 8 p.m. Wednesday through Saturday, 3:30 p.m. Sunday; through July 22.

Tickets: $25 to $35. Call [phone].

Our rating: Two and one half stars

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Photo:

Chris Curry, left, Stacey Marino and Harry Hamlin in the Falcon Theatre production of ``House.''