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The 1940's Radio Christmas Carol. For a while, as radio manager Clifton Feddington pitches us questions, hustles his performers and generally works to keep things on track, you can't help wondering just why you're watching this show. Clearly, it's supposed to be a slice of life, as awkward, desultory and filled with non sequiturs as life itself often seems, but in the theater, even desultoriness needs to be animated by an underlying sense of purpose, or at least incipient purpose. The precursor to this show is The 1940's Radio Hour, which is held aloft by a wonderful sequence of 1940s songs. This play lacks music, relying on mild jokes and the interactions among radio personnel as they present their own version of A Christmas Carol, but we never really learn anything about these people. Still, there are several appealing performances, particularly that of Niccole Carner, who has a compelling presence and the most charming dimples imaginable. And while The 1940's Radio Christmas Carol isn't exactly a smash, it does create a sweetly Christmasy sense of peace and community. Presented by Bas Bleu Theatre Company through December 30, 401 Pine Street, Fort Collins, 1-970-498-8949, www.basbleu.org. Reviewed November 22.

The 1940's Radio Hour. There's not much dialogue in this sweetly nostalgic musical revue, just ballads, novelty songs, swinging little numbers and Christmas favorites interspersed with comic routines and inadvertently comic commercials. The setting is a shabby radio station in 1942, when America was united behind what was almost universally considered a just war, and radio was the country's voice. Soldiers stationed overseas listened to programs like these; folks at home sent their thoughts out to these young men over the airwaves. There are bits of story. You can see that lovely lead singer Ann has something going with drunken, Dean Martin-style crooner Johnny Cantone. Obviously up-and-coming youngster BJ Gibson is fascinated by perky little Connie, and she reciprocates. Biff is off to war after the show, and everyone's wondering if he'll come back. But these aren't story lines you follow, just evocative moments that bob to the surface and sink under again. The 1940's Radio Hour is an excellent showcase for the talents of the Boulder's Dinner Theater troupe. Neal Dunfee's fine orchestra, usually hidden from the audience, is right there on stage, and the players become part of the action. Pursing her improbably heart-shaped lips and chugging soda at every opportunity, Joanie Brosseau-Beyette is full of infectious excitement. Scott Beyette unleashes his inner comic in a couple of very funny routines, complete with mangled words and dropped pants. Wayne Kennedy gives another of his appealing, low-key performances as caretaker Pops; Alicia Dunfee is in her element as slow-thinking, gum-chewing, would-be sexpot Ginger. If you're dreading the sentimentality, forced humor or relentless cheeriness of the usual Christmas offerings, this melodic, quietly charming piece may be just what you need. Presented by Boulder's Dinner Theatre through January 26, 5501 Arapahoe Avenue, Boulder, 303-449-6000, www.theatreinboulder.com. Reviewed November 15.

Plaid Tidings. Perhaps there's a kind of thespian hell, in which actors who are clearly capable of so much more are stuck forever in stale shows as punishment for being bad in some way. If so, this production definitely qualifies. The four performers, while very different from one another, are all talented. James E. Bullard is the boy next door, open-faced and lively; Alan Swadener comes across as charmingly awkward and possesses a very pleasant tenor. Scott Ahearn is energetic and highly versatile: He can tap and play the piano, and has a strong on-stage presence as well as a powerful voice. Joseph Torello comes across as shortsighted and bookish, and his bass notes are amazing. The men's voices marry so well, and their sense of rhythm and harmony is so pleasing, I'd have been quite happy to spend an evening listening to them singing Christmas carols and songs, particularly since the accompaniment consists solely of a piano and a bass, so the singers aren't overwhelmed by a large orchestra. But no. Instead, Sparky, Frankie, Jinx and Smudge have been brought back to earth after dying in a car accident, and although they offer up pieces of well-loved songs, these pieces are often welded together into arrangements that are pointless and annoying. Besides, the plot and the gags are so dumb, obtuse and white-bread, the audience participation sections so manipulative and the sentimentality of the show so calculated that it's simply impossible to lose yourself in the music. Presented by the Arvada Center through December 23, 6901 Wadsworth Boulevard, 720-898-7200, www.arvadacenter.org. Reviewed November 22.