Stomp the presses: Andrew Rannells and Josh Gad, reunited Photo: Matt Murphy There’s a certain kind of theater parody made by theater people, where the characters are either provincial rubes or name-dropping, Olivier-quoting grandees of their local scene, and theater is made out to be a kind of small-town cult for the flamboyantly uncool. It’s a safe space for group backrubs and vocal warmups that sound like abstract orgasms; for scarves and berets and carrying copies of An Actor Prepares in your “I Can’t, I Have Rehearsal” tote bag; for miniscule budgets, massive ambitions, enough earnestness to knock Oscar Wilde...