Here, Kitty Kitty

When trying to describe the new Gina Gershon one-act musical dramedy, my first instinct is to make a pussy joke. But whatever purr-fect pun that might be would probably fall as flat as the majority of Gershon’s jokes do during the show about her hunt for her missing cat, Cleo. “In Search of Cleo,” which debuted at The Box Sunday night, is the actress’ jejune account of the obsessive search for her lost pet. In there somewhere, Gershon—best known for the impossibly horrible Showgirls and her more recent recurring role on “Rescue Me”—takes us on a journey that’s supposed to also be a metaphor for, yep, a quest for love.

The night at the theater plays out much like a night of being cornered at a bar by a tipsy friend who begins to spin a yarn that, 10 minutes into it, you realize is going to take an hour to finish. But you, out of politeness and the hope for a laugh or two along the way, listen with clenched-teeth patience to your friend’s rambling. Sixty minutes later, the story’s finally over. You maybe got your laugh—or two, and I’m being generous—but stare in disbelief when the tale concludes in the most predictable way you imagined.

The only difference with this particular barstool saga is that there’s music and dancing involved. In fact, the entire concept of the performance is just Gershon’s way of presenting her new disc, In Search of Cleo. So really, Gershon’s run at The Box is a cleverly theatrical, extended CD-release party. And while we’ve all witnessed the humiliating results of what happens when thespians try to cross over, it turns out that Gershon is actually a remarkably competent songwriter. Her voice has surprising range too—from soulful jazz chanteuse to sultry country diva. It’s hard to tell, however, if the tunes sound so good because they offer a respite from the tedium of the storytelling, or if they sound so good because they actually are. I’ll give Gershon the benefit of the doubt and say that she does have some musical talent.

Perhaps the biggest highlight of the evening (at the risk of stating the obvious) is the narrator’s heat index. Even when she’s playing a ukulele or a mouth harp, Gershon is sexy. Surrounded by a trio of dancing girls clad in silky teddies, the stunning Gershon glows in her white vintage nightgown. At the risk of sounding like a perv, sitting in such intimate quarters with Gershon’s “Lucky Lips” and thinly veiled, air-conditioned nipples is possibly worth the price of admission.

While “Cleo” didn’t do much for me, it will surely appeal to cat lovers and devoted fans of Gershon. The perpetually-whistling stalker chick who had her own very loud conversation with Gershon throughout the show—“Go Gina, man, I love you. I sooo hear you,”—probably thought the show was Tony Award-worthy. In fact, this lady was so moved, so utterly transcended by the performance, she apparently forgot there was anyone else in the theater but herself and Gershon. Or maybe she was just wasted. Regardless, like they say, if you can reach just one person…

Sundays & Mondays through Oct. 29, The Box, 189 Chrystie St. (betw. Stanton & Rivington Sts.), 212-982-9301; 8, $25-$50.