Anyone who believes a musical can't be both splashy and smart has missed one of the best shows to come out of Broadway in the last 10 years.

I'm talking about Hairspray, the 2002 musical based on the 1988 movie by John Waters.

Broadway, of course, has been stealing ideas from Hollywood for most of those 10 years. And Waters, a director notoriously remembered for "trash films" like Pink Flamingos, which featured a drag queen dining on dog crap, might seem like a spectacularly inappropriate source for a mainstream musical.

But forget all that. Hairspray just works. And the Colorado Springs Fine Arts Center's production, which opened last Friday, is such a big-hearted bundle of joy, you'll want to stand up and cheer.

• Marco Robinson/MOXIEPHOTOARTISTRY
• Edna (Drew Frady) finds herself dragged into the ’60s by her dynamo of a daughter Tracy (Andrea Rutherford).

The story is set in 1962 Baltimore, a city where flashers greet students on the way to school and African-American teens are allowed to dance only one day a month on Baltimore's version of American Bandstand, The Corny Collins Show.

But Tracy Turnblad, played by an adorable firecracker named Andrea Rutherford, doesn't care about any of that. She just wants to land a regular gig dancing on the show, mostly so she can meet the pompadoured dreamboat Link Larkin, played with the requisite swagger by the always excellent Marco Robinson.

There's just one problem. Tracy is on the hefty side, and as her even-more-generously proportioned mother Edna says, "People like us don't appear on television."

It's easy to let the campier elements of the story run away with the show, but director Scott RC Levy plays it straight, giving plenty of room for the characters to live and breathe as real people.

Key to this is the casting of Edna, a role which has been played by a man ever since the great Divine created the role for the original, non-musical movie. Here the bigger-than-life laundress is played by Drew Frady (Toad in A Year With Frog and Toad), a natural comic who knows he doesn't have to milk a joke to get every laugh it deserves.

Michael Augenstein makes a perfect partner for Edna as her adoring, wisecracking husband Wilbur, and their sweetly comedic duet "You're Timeless to Me" is one of the highlights in a show packed to the rafters with them.

• Marco Robinson/MOXIEPHOTOARTISTRY
• Tracy learns to bust a move from Seaweed (Tyrell D. Rae).

But it's not all fun and games. Eventually Tracy realizes the injustice of segregating dancers by the color of their skin and takes it upon herself to integrate The Corny Collins Show, risking everything she has worked so hard to win in the process.

The choreography by Victor Ayers is some of the most dynamic I've ever seen on the FAC stage, and even if there were a few problems with microphones cutting out or coming detached from costumes on opening night, the cast was so good I didn't care.

Carmen Vreeman was utterly charming as Tracy's best friend Penny Pingleton, a geeky girl who learns to throw off the strictures of her over-protective mother after falling in love with a black teen nicknamed Seaweed (a remarkably rubber-limbed Tyrell D. Rae).

Lacey Connell was pitch-perfect as Tracy's snotty arch-nemesis Amber Von Tussle, and Lynn Hastings was in powerful voice as Motormouth Maybelle, her soulful rendering of "I Know Where I've Been" nearly stopping the show.

Also worthy of note are the lush lighting by Jonathan Spencer and the kaleidoscope of colors provided by Lex Liang's costumes.

No, Broadway isn't making them like they used to. But with a feel-good musical like this, who would want them to?

Editor's note: Grab Wednesday's Indy for a behind-the-scenes feature on the show.

If you've ever seen the WYNOT Radio Theatre in action, you know how frantic and fast-paced their shows can be. So fast-paced, in fact, that you might find yourself wishing you could replay the show so you can catch all the one-liners and double entendres you missed the first time.

• CORY MOOSMAN

Well, now you can. Last week, the twisted troupe behind this spoof of 1940s radio shows released their first CD. It's something head honcho Cory Moosman has wanted to do for eight years — and fans have been clamoring for almost as long.

"People always ask, 'Do you have a CD?'" Moosman says. "It's another way to push what it is that we do out there."

I've listened to the CD, which sells for $10, and I'm happy to say it's professionally done and just as funny as the live show. There's no Rick Luger, but the CD does include the hilariously closeted antics of the Grimm Spectre and some of the group's best commercials, including Black Falcon Whiskey ("It gets you drunk and that's all right") and Hammer Cigarettes' famous smoking baby.

Moosman recorded and mixed the whole thing at his in-home studio in a week and a half. In addition to the usual suspects, Moosman brought in his old friend Tom Massmann to fill out the voice pallette. A voiceover pro, Massmann handled his new duties with aplomb — until they came to the Captain Comet sketch.

"It's got a lot of big weird words like 'cronoogler voltage' and 'quasi-gender-bender beam'," Moosman said. "We'd do takes of things and he'd be going along at a clip and then he's like, 'What the hell is this?'"

For now, the CDs are only available at performances of A Case of Mail Order Murder, currently appearing at the Colorado Springs Fine Arts Center through Saturday, April 28. But Moosman plans to offer them on the WYNOT website beginning next week.

In the meantime, Moosman and co-writer Sammy Gleason are cranking away on their next shows, including spoofs of Casablanca and Orson Welles' legendary broadcast of The War of the Worlds.

If these are anything like their previous shows, mass hysteria is assured.

Queen Elizabeth I has been represented on screen so many times, we might be tempted to think we really know her. From Dame Judi Dench in Shakespeare in Love to Helen Mirren in Elizabeth I, the Virgin Queen is consistently portrayed as ruling England with an iron will and an imperious charm.

• Isaiah Downing
• Elizabeth (Jane Fromme) considers the advice of Leicester (Steven Cole Hughes).

But in TheatreWorks' production of Mary Stuart — the 1800 play by preeminent German playwright Friedrich Schiller — local stage veteran Jane Fromme gives Elizabeth a fresh spin that sheds a whole new light on the many perils she faced on the throne.

Hers is a hesitant Elizabeth, a fearful Elizabeth. And no wonder. Thirty years into her reign, she remains the target of countless assassins who question her legitimacy as queen, due as much to her Protestant faith as to her being the "bastard daughter" of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn.

But it is the presence of her cousin Mary — magnificently brought to life by British-born, NYC-based actress Claire Warden — that poses her greatest threat. After Mary is overthrown as Queen of Scotland, she escapes to England.

The reason? Mary claims it's for refuge. The English Queen insists it's to carry out an assassination.

Although the play never definitively answers this question, Warden plays Mary with so much gusto that I personally never had a doubt. Where Elizabeth agonizes over every decision, Mary plunges forward with passionate abandon. Where Elizabeth defers to her advisers, Mary knows what she wants and goes after it.

• Isaiah Downing
• Mortimer (Calvin Thompson) and Mary (Claire Warden) share an intimate moment.

The play, given an elegant translation by Peter Oswald, is brilliant, filled with enough intrigue and wit to fill a season of PBS' Downton Abbey.

Unfortunately, the rest of the cast seemed a bit bipolar to me. Some of the actors, including John FitzGibbon as Elizabeth's chief adviser and Calvin Thompson as Mary's young lover, took a stagey, old-fashioned approach to their roles, making every line of dialogue sound like a speech.

Now, this could work in a grand, historical play like this. The problem is that others in the cast, such as Steve Emily as the chief jailer and Jason Lythgoe as the hilariously indecisive Secretary of State, took the opposite tack, playing their roles with a more modern, natural sensibility. The difference is jarring, and I can't help but think that the production would have benefited from a firmer hand by director Murray Ross.

Still it's a powerful piece, gaining extra juice from Russell Parkman's stark, imposing set — designed to suggest a modern-day interrogation chamber — and Lloyd Sobel's moody lighting.

Also worth noting is the creative slant on costume design taken by Betty Ross. While she draped the women in full period costumes, Elizabeth looking especially lavish in gowns befitting a queen, the men wore contemporary business suits, which seemed to accentuate their corporate-like scheming and greed.

It doesn't take a history degree to know that in the end, it's Mary's head that falls. But even as she marches to her execution — without fear, without compromise — you may find yourself feeling that she's the one who's victorious.

After all, how we die can be just as important as how we live.

I know what I'm supposed to say about Wicked, the Broadway phenomenon that opened a six-week stand at Denver's Buell Theatre last week. I'm supposed to say it's a confection, an overhyped combination of cartoonish characters and sappy pop tunes that appeals only to teenage girls.

Only I can't.

Because if you look past the glitzy veneer, if you set aside the hype that has helped make it the No. 1 show on Broadway for nine years running, you'll see it for what it really is. A smart, sassy satire of recent American history.

Think about it. There's the leader who came to power by dubious means and maintains his popularity by adopting a bumbling, aw-shucks persona. There's his second-in-command, a Machiavellian mastermind who's considered to be the real power behind the throne. And then there's the way these two manipulate the media, convincing the citizens to relinquish their civil rights in the name of defeating a common foe.

Sound familiar?

• JOAN MARCUS
• And you thought you had an annoying roommate in college.

Nominally, of course, Wicked is a retelling of The Wizard of Oz from the viewpoint of Elphaba, aka the Wicked Witch of the West. Only in this version, Elphaba isn't wicked at all.

But in a world where conformity is the highest virtue, a smart, green-skinned girl with unusual powers doesn't stand a chance. And when Elphaba discovers that the Wonderful Wizard of Oz may not be so wonderful — especially in his use of censorship and intimidation to silence his enemies — she rebels, and soon finds herself the target of a media campaign to recast her every action as evil.

"Where I'm from, we believe all sorts of things that aren't true," the Wizard tells Elphaba. "We call it 'history.'"

This is the third time the show has come to Denver, and if you've seen it before, you may wonder whether it's worth seeing again. After all, the story's the same, the score's the same, the sets and costumes are the same.

The difference, of course, is the cast. And for me, at least, that's reason enough.

Mamie Parris is simply phenomenal, grounding her Elphaba with an earnest sincerity that'll tug at even the hardest of hearts. And she boasts a remarkably agile voice, handling both the bombastic belt of "Defying Gravity" and the more tender yearning of "I'm Not That Girl" with equal panache.

• JOAN MARCUS
• It's not easy being green.

Alli Mauzey is almost her match as Glinda, the "good" witch. Several new gags have been written for her, and while Mauzey goes way beyond previous Glindas in the perkiness department, which can get grating, there's no denying her natural comic flair.

Other standouts include Broadway veteran Mark Jacoby (he was in the original cast of both Grand Hotel and Ragtime) as a charmingly rumpled, folksy Wizard and Andy Kelso, who made Glinda's boyfriend Fiyero more than just a stereotype of a self-absorbed prince.

In my book, though, it's the score by Stephen Schwartz (Godspell, Pippin) that's the real star. It is in turn playful, moving, ironic and clever, with unforgettable melodies and lyrics so witty that they almost seem like a throwback to the Cole Porter musicals of the 1930s.

Listen a little closer and you'll realize that the entire score is tied together by a common theme, exploring as it does the many different meanings to which we assign to the word "good."

Yes, you can appreciate the show for its score, or its humor or even its eye-popping costumes.

But if you're too embarrassed, just tell them you're there for the satire.

Last night, Scott RC Levy and the Colorado Springs Fine Arts Center announced its 2012-13 theater season, which not only includes six plays on the schedule — plus one from last year — but the unveiling of a second stage in the upstairs music room.

Here's the lineup for the main theater:

Gypsy (Sept. 27 to Oct. 21)
A Christmas Story (Nov. 29 to Dec. 23)
Prelude to a Kiss (Jan. 31 to Feb. 17)
Other Desert Cities (March 21 to April 7)
The Drowsy Chaperone (May 16 to June 9)
Jacques Brel is Alive and Well and Living in Paris (June 20 to July 1)

The FAC had originally planned Next to Normal instead of Other Desert Cities (as you'll see in our InSider performing arts story); however, it went with the latter instead when the opportunity came to stage the Colorado premiere. (We'll get to it before the Denver Center.)

In the music room, the FAC has planned festival called Rough Writers, which will likely take place over a two-week period. Levy says it's "an opportunity to do readings of new scripts and development." He'll accept submissions of scripts (many of them for children's theater) from around the world, and the chosen scripts will be performed in a dramatic reading. Ideally, the playwright will be in attendance to receive feedback.

Happily, Levy's ambitious new schedule doesn't come with a bump in prices for season subscription tickets. They've also added "B-seating" passes, which cover the first four rows on the sides of the theater.

Additional reporting by Matthew Schniper.

"We ask that you stay at least five feet from the actors," Brian Mann told us as we waited to enter the back room of the Western Jubilee Recording Company on East Cucharras. "Ten feet if they have any type of firearm."

Not your ordinary audience instructions. But then this was no ordinary play. This was Reservoir Dogs, THEATREdART's latest experiment in immersive theater.

A concept that's only about 12 years old, immersive theater picks you up and drops you down right in the middle of the action. You don't sit in some plush upholstered seat. You stand up, wander around, explore. You don't watch from a safe, comfortable distance. You experience it up close, live it, breathe it.

THEATREdART first dove into the world of immersive theater last fall, with their version of Antonin Artaud's surrealist Jet of Blood. Last Friday they leaped in again, this time with a visceral, nearly word-for-word adaptation of the groundbreaking 1992 film directed by Quentin Tarantino (read our preview here).

• HALEY HUNSAKER
• "Excuse me for not being the world's biggest Madonna fan."

The play is only an hour long, but it packs enough violence to satisfy any hard-core Tarantino fan. Much of the credit for that goes to Crystal Carter, who both wrote and directed the play. The one major change she made from the famously nonlinear film is that her version plays it straight, unspooling the scenes in the order they were supposed to have happened.

As the play begins, you — the audience member — stake your position in the warehouse-like back room of the building. It's there that Joe, a crime boss played with confident swagger by Kevin McGuire, gives final instructions for a brazen diamond heist to pulled off by his hand-picked team of professional criminals.

You follow them into a cheap diner, squeezing around the table as they debate the deeper meaning of Madonna's hit Like a Virgin over cigarettes and coffee.

Finally, you return to the warehouse. And from that point on, as the action unfolds, you'll swear you're watching the real-life aftermath of the heist as the team reassembles one by one and it becomes all too clear that things went horribly wrong.

• HALEY HUNSAKER
• "You gonna bark all day, little doggie, or are you gonna bite?"

Of course, with the audience positioned so close to the action, the actors are under a microscope and any flaws in their performances will be magnified. From where I was standing, some of the hand-to-hand combat looked kind of fake. The famous torture scene lost much of its impact because it was done with an empty gas can (couldn't they fill it with colored water or something?). [UPDATE: Carter has since informed me that the gas cap was stuck that night—AKA the magic of live theatre.] And I thought that Valiant Pico didn't show nearly enough agony as the mortally wounded Mr. Orange.

But Troy Sedlacek was truly chilling as Mr. Blonde, taking an almost childlike glee in torturing Josh Wolfaardt's helplessly bound cop. Greg Reilly brought a crazed kind of intensity to every heated argument in his portrayal of Mr. Pink. And veteran actor John Horn nicely captured Mr. White's descent into hopelessness and despair.

No, you don't have to watch the movie first to fully enjoy the play. Even if you have watched the movie, you may want to see the play more than once so that you can experience it from different angles, gain different perceptions.

Just make sure you stay five feet from the actors. You don't want to make Mr. Blonde mad.

Photos by Haley Hunsaker

In a theater season that has seen the Colorado Springs Fine Arts Center push the envelope further than it's done before, the 1937 drama Of Mice and Men might seem like a safe choice, a dull choice: the stuff of Depression-era retrospectives and middle-school reading lists.

But as I discovered at Friday's opening performance, John Steinbeck's play still packs a powerful punch. And in director Scott RC Levy's stunning production, that punch may even knock the breath out of you. (Read more about it here.)

• Marco Robinson/MOXIEPHOTOARTISTRY
• Logan Ernstthal as Lennie and Kent D. Burnham as George in the FAC production, Of Mice and Men.

The play, like the Pulitzer Prize-winning novella on which it's based, is set in California during the Great Depression. It centers on George and Lennie, migrant ranch workers who as the play opens are headed to a new job in the Salinas Valley.

They're not like the other ranch hands. They dream of buying their place, where the hard-bitten George won't have to answer to anyone, and the genial but mentally disabled Lennie can pet rabbits to his heart's content.

In the original 1937 Broadway production, Steinbeck was disturbed to learn that audiences were laughing "outrageously" at Lennie, as though he were some kind of clown. Lennie inspires some laughs in this production, too, but they're kinder laughs, sympathetic laughs. And if this Lennie refuses to be a clown, that's entirely due to the talent of Logan Ernstthal, making his FAC debut, who embues Lennie with a quiet, almost devout nobility.

A character that's almost as hard to get right is George, who acts more like a big brother than a friend to Lennie. At first, George seems mean-spirited — even cruel — as he puts Lennie down at every turn.

"It ain't bad people who cause all the trouble in the world," George tells him. "It's dumb people."

But Kent D. Burnham, also making his FAC debut, gives this tough-as-nails character a more nuanced spin, offering us glimpses of a more gentle soul within. This George, we know, really cares for the big lug.

Despite George's efforts to keep Lennie out of trouble, however, things soon spin out of control. Curley, the boss' son, played with sneering malevolence by Kyle Dean Steffen, has it in for Lennie, and when Curley starts a fight with him — a fight that ends with his own hand being crushed — it triggers a series of events that can only lead to tragedy.

• Marco Robinson/MOXIEPHOTOARTISTRY
• George chews the fat with fellow ranch hands Carlson (Jeremy Joynt) and Slim (Jason Lythgoe).

The entire cast is excellent, but I'd especially like to point out Jeremy Joynt, who usually finds himself cast as a wide-eyed young husband or boyfriend, but here shows a whole new breadth to his talent as the bitter, slouch-backed Carlson.

I was also pleased to see Sol Chavez return to the FAC stage after a 10-year absence as Candy, a chatty old duffer who manages to wrangle a place on George and Lennie's dream ranch.

This rough-and-tumble world is brought to vivid life by Janson Fangio's wonderfully weathered costumes and Christopher L. Sheley's lovingly detailed sets, especially the ramshackle bunkhouse and the lush backdrops inspired by the Depression-era murals of Thomas Hart Benton.

I also have to commend composer Samuel James, whose hauntingly evocative folk songs during set changes made me wish the stage hands had done their jobs a little slower.

Even if you already know how Of Mice and Men ends — and if you went to an American public school, you probably do — you may be surprised how much more powerful it is on stage. As the play hurtled toward its inevitable conclusion, it seemed as though the entire audience held its breath, and only when George made his final, fateful decision did the tension release itself in a single collective gasp.

It was an amazing experience. But then, that's what great theater can do.

When Hair — the first rock musical — opened off-Broadway in 1967, theatergoers didn't know what hit them. The old way was dead, people thought, and from then on all musicals would have to be rock musicals.

Anyone who's been to Broadway lately knows that that hasn't happened. But as shows from Jesus Christ Superstar to Rent have shown, wrapping a musical around some amped-up axes and a kick-ass rock score still has the power to change the world.

American Idiot, the 2010 Broadway musical now touring the country (it landed at Denver's Buell Theatre on Tuesday), doesn't quite reach those heights. The story is too thin, the characters too shallow. But forget all that. The show managed to launch its own musical grenade into the often dreary little world of Broadway.

For those who've lived in a cave these last 10 years (and really, who can blame you?), American Idiot is based on Green Day's seminal 2004 album of the same name. Frontman Billie Joe Armstrong and the boys had always intended to dramatize their story of urban angst, but it took them five years to get it onto a stage. When they did, they expanded it both musically and storywise. The band gained a keyboard and cello, and Jesus of Suburbia (here renamed Johnny) is given a couple of equally uneasy friends, Will and Tunny.

The story, what little there is of it, has Johnny leaving his suburban prison of a life and heading to the city for its promise of freedom and excitement. Will desperately wants to go with him but is sucked back in when his girlfriend becomes pregnant. Tunny, on the other hand, does join Johnny, but he soon finds the city just as meaningless as their old lives and enlists in the Army.

• DOUG HAMILTON
• They're no Green Day, but can Billie Joe dance like that?

Yeah, you could accuse the story of sexism, with nameless female characters like Whatsername and The Extraordinary Girl functioning more like symbols than real people. But the males don't fare much better. Despite their dreams, Will and Tunny remain as three-dimensional as stick drawings, and even Johnny deserves more depth. Strangely, the only character with any real complexity is St. Jimmy, a heroin-addicted punker who tempts Johnny to follow his own self-destructive path.

Is St. Jimmy a real person or just the darker side of Johnny's own ego? Who knows? And really, who cares? The reason you're going to pony up $80 or more to go, is the music. And it won't disappoint, whether you're a hardcore Green Day fan or not. The six-piece stage band plays with enough raw power to keep you pinned to your seat, and the energy doesn't let up for the 90-minute duration of the show, even during softer ballads like "21 Guns" or "Wake Me Up When September Ends."

What's surprising is that the choreography — yes, there's dancing — actually adds to the music, the dynamic ensemble giving each song its own unique expression. I was also impressed by the set, an industrial warehouse-looking thing that would be depressing if it weren't for the 37 widescreen TVs that flash an ever-changing array of images as comment on the action.

No, the musical will never be as intense as a real Green Day concert. But if you approach it on its own terms, it might just make you appreciate their music even more.

Every war has its casualties. But when a country wages war against its own people, and those people don't even know they're under attack, those casualties reach new heights of horror.

That's the theme of The Land Southward, an ambitious but ultimately disappointing play receiving its regional premiere with Springs Ensemble Theatre.

Written by California playwright Darcy Hogan and helmed here by first-time director Jason Lythgoe, who starred in the original 2005 production, The Land Southward examines the controversial testing of atomic weapons in the Nevada desert during the 1950s. At the time, the place was considered an unpopulated wasteland. But radioactive particles can be carried by the wind, and not far from the test site were numerous small towns inhabited largely by Mormons.

It was a different time. A naïve time. A time when families packed picnic baskets so they could spend the afternoon watching the blasts from a nearby ridge. A time when radiation-sickened mothers were diagnosed with nothing more serious than "housewife syndrome."

• Marco Robinson
• Remember, the atom is our friend.

Hogan clearly did her homework in researching the period. Unfortunately, by cramming so many historical facts into the narrative, she left no room for character development.

The story revolves around Joe, a young soldier newly assigned to the testing grounds, and his adoring wife Maggie. While proud to be part of such an important project, Joe begins to suspect something is wrong when Maggie loses one baby, and then another.

Although the couple is played with passionate sincerity by Jeremy Joynt and Carmen Vreeman, I was unmoved by their story because I never really got to know them as individuals. Their physical maladies are described in detail, but their inner lives — what makes them tick as human beings — are left unexplored.

These scenes alternate with ones featuring an appealingly earnest JaNae Stansbery as Liz, a present-day writer driven to uncover the truth behind the testing. But these scenes also lack punch because Liz faces no real opposition in her effort. People seem all too willing to talk to her, and other than a pair of shadowy figures that are dealt with too briefly, no one stands in her way.

The one character we do get to know is May, an elderly survivor of the blasts — in fact, the only member of her family to survive them. In her interviews with Liz, she looks back on her life with a wry but solemn wit, played to perfection by Sallie Walker.

"Dying's just a part of life," May says to explain the townspeople's easy acceptance of their fate. "It's not even the worst part, just the last part."

Lightening the often grim mood are brief vignettes parodying classic game shows and those cheesy educational films of the 1950s. In a weird way, these are the most affecting parts of the play, making the same point as the main story but with a lighter, more satirical touch.

Sarah Shaver's costumes were simple but effective in communicating a little bit about each of the play's 30-odd characters. And the set — credited in the program to the entire crew — was a miracle of economy, moving from May's homey living room to Liz's cluttered office to the vast desert itself with a few well-chosen details.

Despite its flaws, The Land Southward tells an important story, one that deserves to be more widely known. If nothing else, it reminds us that sometimes we can't afford to let history repeat itself.

Read more about the play here.

When he took the reins as director of performing arts at the Colorado Springs Fine Arts Center in June, Scott RC Levy promised to shake things up at the venerable old theater. And no play this season demonstrates his edgy sensibilities quite like In the Next Room, or the vibrator play. (Read our preview of the play here.)

Despite its titillating title, In the Next Room is not a free-wheeling sex romp or madcap farce. What it is, is a touching, historically accurate and, yes, funny costume drama set at the dawn of the electrical age, when women were just beginning to rebel against their longtime roles and physicians were experimenting with a new device promising to cure women of "hysteria."

Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize in 2010, In the Next Room was written by Sarah Ruhl, one of the freshest voices in American theater today. Ruhl's works cover a wide range of subjects, but at their heart they all explore the distances between people and the sacrifices it takes to close those distances.

This play centers on Catherine Givings, a young wife and mother played with breezy charm by Stephanie Philo. Catherine is something of a scatterbrain, but she feels things deeply, especially the lack of attention from her husband Dr. Givings (an admirably restrained Chad Siebert). The good doctor has grown increasingly distant since her body stopped producing enough milk to feed their baby girl.

"Isn't it funny?" Catherine observes, comparing breastfeeding to the Christian practice of communion. "Jesus is a man ... but as women, it's our bodies that feed the world."

• Nathan Willers
• A top-notch cast, sumptuous costumes and a cheerfully humming vibrator in the background. What more does a theatergoer need?

Catherine hires an African-American wet nurse named Elizabeth, but this only increases her sense of isolation as the nurse, despite her initial resistance, forms a deep emotional bond with the infant. As she does in so many of her roles, Marisa Hebert plays Elizabeth with a soft-spoken intensity that only hints at layers hidden beneath.

Adding to Catherine's troubles is the fact that Dr. Givings has been finding great success with his "electric massage machine." Tightly corseted housewives step into his office feeling frustrated and depressed, but step out completely rejuvenated, enjoying a physical and emotional release that Catherine can only long for.

It would be easy to go overboard with a play like this, but Joye Cook-Levy, wife of Scott and a talented director in her own right, steers the production right down the middle, avoiding the rocks of melodrama on one side and raunch on the other.

The production is a joy to look at, with its lovingly detailed set by Christopher Sheley and sumptuous costumes by Janson Fangio. The role of props designer is overlooked in most productions, but Desarae Buza's contributions here are key, especially the boxy, cheerfully humming contraption of the title.

Ruhl's clever dialogue is delivered with a confident yet understated humor by the entire cast. Special mention goes to Max Ferguson as the struggling painter Leo, who comes to Dr. Givings for his own specialized treatment. ("Hysteria is very rare in man," Dr. Givings says about Leo, "but then, he is an artist.") Local favorite Amy Brooks also excels as Dr. Givings' loyal but conflicted assistant Annie.

My only real gripe with the production is the ending. What should have been a joyful, triumphant moment was played too subtly, and as the lights faded to black, it took the audience, unsure whether the play was over, several seconds to start applauding.

This is the first FAC production I can remember in which the cast was unmiked. I'm torn by this. On the one hand, there's nothing as distracting as microphones constantly crackling in and out, and even with a fully functioning system, the sound in the SaGaJi Theatre suffers from the less-than-ideal location of the loudspeaker high above the stage. On the other hand, it was hard to hear some of the dialogue Saturday night, and I expect it will take some time before the actors learn to fill the cavernous space.

With a play this smart, you don't want to miss a syllable.