blair

The shadow of Bill Cosby hangs over the “The Peterson Show,” a new play by Janine Nabers about the fallout of a disgraced TV dad on the grown-up cast members who played his children on the show.

Echo Theater Company, which is presenting the world premiere of this play in a production directed by Michelle Bossy, has reconfigured its Atwater Village Theatre space for the occasion. The refresh — in terms of the position of the stage and the audience and in the level of the design elements, including video monitors showing clips of Black sitcoms — promises a vital evening of theater.

Unfortunately, the production is hamstrung by fundamental problems in the writing, directing and acting, all pointing to a failure of control. Control of the story, control of the tone and control of the cast.

In my fall preview item for this show, I wrote that the “production is all but guaranteed to be more enlivening than an evening spent surfing Netflix.” Well, it’s certainly lively, but in a boisterous way that made me regret I had left my couch.

Not even Netflix would give “The Peterson Show” the greenlight. The story centers on the adult lives of the sitcom’s five child stars who are thrust once again into the spotlight after a reunion rumor goes viral and their TV mom, Valerie, kills herself.

Deanna Reed-Foster, left, and Tamberla Perry in “The Peterson Show” at the Echo Theater Company.

(Cooper Bates)

Ronika (Tamerla Perry), the troublemaker of the group, careens through life with faulty brakes. Zoe (Kristen Ariza), who has traded TV stardom for an academic career and motherhood, wants the normalcy that her former fame keeps threatening.

Dwight (Devere Rogers) is messy and loud as well as addicted to fame and other substances. Blair (Kelly McCreary), who pulled herself out of a miserable childhood, has made a successful career as an award-winning actor and isn’t going to let her flimsy talent or her TV siblings stand in her way. Elliot (John Clarence Stewart), who seems the best adjusted of this crew, left the business to become a lawyer and hasn’t looked back.

Haywood Peterson, the patriarch of the TV show who’s serving jail time for rape, doesn’t appear in “The Peterson Show.” But his voice tyrannically resounds with sadistic orders and conservative cultural commentary during the second-act flashback scene, in which a fateful day on the set of the show changes the lives of Ronika and Blair.

The unsettled first act, full of false starts, feels like an early draft of the play. Nabers, an Emmy-nominated TV writer and author of the play “Serial Black Face” (winner of the Yale Drama Series Prize), can’t figure out how to center the work.

Ronika is the protagonist, but her introduction is off-putting — not only to Zoe, whose home she has invaded, but to the audience, who isn’t given much reason to care about this abrasive, screechy and just-plain-annoying personality.

The cast members perform at a fever pitch of amateur sitcom acting. Ronika evolves as the scene shifts to Blair’s home (which confusingly has the same layout as Zoe’s house in Michael Kramer’s eye-catching scenic design) for the home funeral of their TV mom. But more thought is spent in reworking Ronika’s hairstyle and outfit than in developing her story.

Kristen Ariza, left, Devere Rogers, Kelly McCreary, John Clarence Stewart and Tamberla Perry in “The Peterson Show” at the Echo Theater Company.

(Cooper Bates)

Ronika’s resentment toward Blair, who has avoided condemning Haywood in public, seethes monotonously until her own backstory is finally unearthed. Ronika’s trauma plot, however, has to compete with Valerie’s related breakdown story, and neither is given its dramatic due.

In the meantime, there’s a lot of unwieldy comic commotion involving a missing corpse, a tweaking, naked Dwight and enough insipid TV sibling bickering to clog the airwaves for a decade.

“The Peterson Show” is exhausting. The play isn’t ready for prime time. Bossy’s direction raises the clamorous volume instead of sorting out the disordered structure or digging into the unexamined silences.

The actors are led completely astray. Echo has built its reputation on quirky plays idiosyncratically performed. The theatrical marching orders here seem to involve throwing spaghetti against the wall and laughing uproariously as it slides to the floor.