“This is the thea-tah, Peter,” says an aged thespian to Bigger Than the Sky‘s protag, a graphic designer (Marcus Thomas) and thea-tah neophyte who’s improbably snagged the lead in a community production of Cyrano de Bergerac. “It isn’t like the real world.” True: People pronounce things with unwelcome vigor, and there are more feathered hats. Yet it shares much of our workaday tedium. Bigger lopes along endlessly, a no-surprises foray into backstage high jinks and the notion of life as the best acting coach there is. As the naive, just-dumped newbie, Thomas has a sad awkwardness that makes it almost believable that the old-salt director (Clare Higgins) would cast him on the basis of his disastrous audition-cum-lonely-hearts-confession. But as he taps into his more emotional side, he gets, paradoxically, less interesting. Vanilla-safe John Corbett plays his would-be Dionysian foil, and Amy Smart the actress they clash over. At least Sean Astin, as a scene-chewing prima donna, seems to be having a good time—and mom Patty Duke gets to call him a “turd.”