Scandals in the Catholic Church have resulted in bitterness, lawsuits, harm to parishioners and the potentially fatal loss of faith in the clergy to whom care of the flock is entrusted. Almost as bad as misconduct, in the eyes of the world, is failure of the church hierarchy to deal with the problem and take steps to stop it.

Longtime Old Globe actor and dramaturge Dakin Matthews, who studied for the priesthood himself, explores the workings of the church hierarchy in The Prince of L.A., playing through Oct. 30 at the Cassius Carter Centre Stage.

The official plot has to do with financial irregularities in a fictional SoCal parish, discovered and reported by Sister Dominic (Julia Fletcher). She wants Cardinal John (Matthews) and his assistant, legal adviser Father Paul Muñoz (Henri LuBatti), to do something about it. That investigation leads from money to sex and revelations about long-ago sexual abuse, all of which Cardinal John is left to handle.

It’s the psychology of power and of the bishops entrusted to wield it that interest Matthews. The plot is fictional (as Cardinal John repeatedly reminds us), but inspired by news reports, personal experience and conversations with some of his former seminary classmates.

The play is an odd bird in several ways. First, it’s written in mostly transparent rhyming verse based on the metrical forms used in plays during Spain’s Golden Age. Cardinal John narrates, acts in the play and comes back now and then in professor mode to make sure we understand what we’ve just seen.

Though it deals with serious issues, The Prince of L.A. is gentle in tone, instructive rather than inflammatory and almost tiresomely politically correct. On the other hand, it is also engaging and often amusing, as when Cardinal John and Father Paul expose the level of their ignorance about each other’s sexuality.

The play (at two and a half hours) could do with more cutting and less pussyfooting around the issues. The church has real problems. Assuring the audience every 10 minutes that “this isn’t real,” and concentrating on a money scandal rather than the elephant in the room serves only to dilute the seriousness of the questions at hand.

But splendid acting all around helps immensely. Matthews’ Cardinal John, properly avuncular and professorial, is just the kind of man you want to trust. LuBatti’s Father Paul is also a likable sort, obviously dedicated to his job and to Cardinal John. Julia Fletcher does well in an underwritten part, and so does Michael Winters as the accused priest.

“We spent a lifetime suppressing the self,” says Cardinal John of the priesthood. “It was a life lived to meet expectations.”

The question many would like the answer to is: What went wrong, and why hasn’t it been dealt with adequately?

The Prince of L.A. runs through Oct. 30 at The Old Globe’s Cassius Carter Centre Stage. Shows Sunday through Wednesday at 7:00 p.m.; Thursday through Saturday at 8:00 p.m.; matinees Saturday and Sunday at 2:00 p.m. For tickets, call (619) 23-GLOBE.

“This show contains brief nudity, a loud explosion and serious artichokes.”

- Note at box office

There’s plenty to curse about in Sam Shepard’s world, and ample opportunity to play it for laughs, as the above quote indicates.

Cygnet and New Village Arts Theatres combine to present Shepard’s 1977 Curse of the Starving Class at Cygnet Theatre through Nov. 6, directed by New Village Arts artistic director Francis Gercke.

Curse brings us the Tates, a family near dissolution. Father Weston (Bill Dunnam) is a drunk and a dreamer, vulnerable to the wiles of those who are sharper of wit (and many are). Weston’s wife, Ella (Dana Case), a typical Shepard housewife drudge, is tired of trying to keep the family together with so little help from her husband.

Ella and Weston have two children: Emma (Rachael VanWormer), who has her own curse (she’s just begun to menstruate), and older brother Wesley (Joshua Everett Johnson), who makes his feelings for his sister known by urinating on posters she has laboriously made for a 4-H project. Later he brings a lamb with maggots into the kitchen because “it needs warmth.”

What the Westons lack in family cohesion they make up in fantasies, each disclosed in a long, loopy monologue. This quartet may share a house, but each member lives in his own world, virtually if not literally untouched by human hand or heart.

Conflict arises when Ella and Weston concoct separate schemes to sell the house. Weston needs to pay off debts owed to some unsavory types; Ella just wants to get away – perhaps to Europe.

Shepard uses the fridge for such comic relief as there is. Almost an uncredited character, the fridge is the center of much of the action: characters open and close it often, usually finding it empty (though in one telling scene, Weston fills it to overflowing with half-price artichokes picked up at a roadside stand).

Fine acting characterizes this production. Bill Dunnam, gone from local stages for far too long, is terrific as the bullish (and bullheaded) Weston. Dana Case will break your heart with her portrayal of Ella’s pathetic attempt to take control of her life. Johnson and VanWormer are totally credible, and so are John Garcia, Jack Missett and Tom Reusing in a variety of smaller roles.

Curse of the Starving Class is not vintage Shepard. Gercke has elected to play the first act for comedy, which at least postpones the bleakness a bit. No matter how you play it, though, the sudden transformation in the third act seems forced and unconvincing.

But if you want to see a good production of this problematic play, Cygnet’s got the goods.

Curse of the Starving Class plays through Nov. 6 at Cygnet Theatre. Shows Thursday through Saturday at 8:00 p.m.; Sunday at 2:00 and 7:00 p.m. For tickets, call (619) 337-1525 or visit www.cygnettheatre.com.

Despite the provocative title, The Smell of the Kill (at North Coast Repertory Theatre through Nov. 13) isn’t about a serial killer or the law of the jungle. It’s a black comedy about three couples whose monthly dinner turns into something quite unexpected.

Dinner is over; the women are gossiping in the kitchen while the men do some competitive putting in the dining room. The men, a uniformly loutish lot, are heard (in the voices of Christopher M. Williams) but not seen as they yell at their wives through the kitchen door.

Hostess for the evening is Nicky (Terri Park), a book editor whose husband, Jay, is about to be incarcerated for an unspecified infraction. Jay will leave her with a small child and an $8,000 basement meat locker she doesn’t want and can’t afford. But it’s Jay’s pride and joy. “The smell of the kill gives him a hard-on,” Nicky says.

In contrast to the birdlike Nicky is earth mother Debra (Melinda Gilb), whose husband Marty appraises real estate (and bangs “the python” next door). And Molly (Brooke McCormick), youngest of the group (and with a figure to die for), wants a baby, but finds her husband uncooperative.

A testosterone tour of the meat locker results in the unexpected possibility of deliverance for the ladies: the guys are inadvertently locked inside. Will the women “find” the key?

The Smell of the Kill is a slight domestic comedy, but a lot of fun. The actors are top-notch, but the real star of the show is Marty Burnett’s spectacular kitchen set – all black and white and chrome, with a black-and-white floor full of lines, angles and geometric shapes. The North Coast stage has never looked larger.

“Is this the stage version of a chick flick?” asks the pre-show announcer, after the cell phone and cellophane pleas. Possibly, but I noticed that the men in the opening night audience seemed to be laughing as much as the women.

The Smell of the Kill plays through Nov. 13 at North Coast Repertory Theatre. Shows Thursday through Saturday at 8:00 p.m.; Sunday at 2:00 and 7:00 p.m.; select Saturday matinees at 2:00 p.m. and Wednesday evenings at 7:00 p.m. For tickets, call (858) 481-1055, toll-free at (888) 776-6278, or visit www.northcoastrep.org.