The potential is there for a gripping and informative play in Gregg Ostrin’s Kowalski, but sadly all we get is forced conflict and sitcom-level humor. The premise is promising. Ostrin’s subject is the real-life, first meeting of two legendary artists—Tennessee Williams and Marlon Brando. On the insistence of director Elia Kazan, Brando hitchhiked from NYC to the gay mecca of Provincetown, Mass. to audition for Williams for his new play A Streetcar Named Desire. After fixing the plumbing and electricity, Brando delivered a socko reading of Stanley Kowalski, Williams’ animalistic anti-hero and nemesis of Blanche DuBois and made theater history. You’ve got plenty of possibilities for an explosive encounter. Williams was openly gay and the young Brando aggressively macho and hetero. Both Brando and Williams represented a new style of theater, challenging the old guard of presentational melodrama. Both were teetering on the edge of major breakthroughs in their careers, with a lot riding on the outcome of the audition. Ostrin could have mined any of these veins for dramatic gold, but comes up with dross.

We begin with Williams in the 1970s addressing an unseen TV interviewer reluctantly describing that first meeting with Brando in 1947. The lights shift and we are in Williams’ Provincetown cottage (excellently detailed set by David Gallo). The playwright and his friend, the director Margo Jones with whom he collaborated on his first success The Glass Menagerie, deliver exposition. Williams’ abusive boyfriend Pancho staggers in to deliver threats and tension. Margo and Pancho exit separately—Ostrin’s obvious device to leave the stage clear for the core of this 90-minute piece: the confrontation between Williams and Brando, which Ostrin embellishes with Odd Couple-style gags. Brando’s crude vulgarities contrast with Williams’ Southern-belle extravagances. They play Edward Albee-ish head games and exchange intimate feelings—hardly believable for two who have just met—and keep delaying the audition, the whole purpose of Brando’s lengthly sojourn.

When Ostrin runs out of ideas, he introduces Jo, Brando’s semi-girlfriend and wanna-be actress who has accompanied him from Gotham. The power plays are expanded to three with each trying to out-manipulate the other two. Ostrin also slips in meta-references to Streetcar with Brando calling after Jo, “JOEEEEY!” echoing the famous cry of “STELLLA!” Finally, Margo and Pancho return, Brando is about to deliver his big reading of Stanley…and Williams is snapped back to 1977, admitting some of what we have just witnessed may be true or it may not, but it made for a good story, right? Wrong. Blackout and curtain calls.

Colin Hanlon’s direction emphasizes the comic aspects of the script and fails to add shadings to the relationships. Brandon Flynn has the muscular physique and good looks of Brando and does a creditable vocal approximation. He also captures the legendary actor’s charisma and arrogance. Robin Lord Taylor’s Williams is all effete mannerisms and rushed delivery. I did not get a sense of Williams’ complex vulnerability and sensitivity. Alison Cimmet and Sebastian Trevino as Margo and Pancho were not on stage long, but they did strongly establish their characters’ needs and desires. Ellie Ricker is most impressive as Jo. She skillfully and credibly plays an intelligent young woman who is able to gauge her own lack of acting ability and judge Brando’s colossal talent, but equally huge character flaws.

Kowlaski is a mish-mash of anecdote, speculation, and imitation of Streetcar and Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Meanwhile, another Off-Broadway production based on a real-life story, Mike B. Breen and David Rafailedes’ Cellino v. Barnes, is nothing more than an extended comedy sketch, has been running since August, and succeeds on its own terms. Breen and Rafailedes take the history of the law partners known for their famous TV jingle and create a wildly funny satire of the commercialization of the legal profession and our shallow society as a whole. Cavorting around the tiny stage at Asylum NYC, Eric William Morris and Noah Weisberg throw their whole bodies and expressive features into creating exaggerated versions of a slick slacker Cellino and an attention-starved Barnes. Wesley Taylor and Alex Wyse’s staging is just madcap enough, but doesn’t go too over the top for an uproarious 80 minutes.

Kowalski: Jan. 27—Feb. 23. Duke at 42nd Street, 229 W. 42nd St., NYC. Running time: 85 mins. with no intermission. cur8.com.

Cellino v. Barnes: Aug. 1—March 30. Asylum NYC, 123 E. 24th St., NYC. Running time: 80 mins. with no intermission. asylumtix.com.