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Phantom. While playwright Arthur Kopit and composer Maury Yeston were still putting together Phantom, Andrew Lloyd Webber's Phantom of the Opera

trundled onto the scene, and their backers vanished — along with any chance of a Broadway opening. This Phantom is much smaller-scale than Webber's, with less spectacle and more emphasis on the agonized humanity of the Phantom himself — though all the Gothic impulses animating Gaston LeRoux's original novel are still present. The plot: Beautiful Christine's beautiful soprano is discovered by the womanizing Count Philippe de Chandon, who secures her a place at the Paris Opera. But the organization has just been taken over by the Cholets, a nasty, scheming couple who have fired faithful long-term manager Carriere and intend to use the opera to showcase the ghastly voice of self-infatuated Carlotta Cholet. Poor Christine ends up in the costume shop rather than on stage, but beneath the imposing gray edifice lurks Erik, with his cohort of writhing lost souls. Music is his only solace, and having once heard Christine sing, he promptly offers her lessons; the first of these gives rise to one of the loveliest and most charming duets of the evening, "You Are Music." Musical-comedy ingenues are usually hard to like — pretty, simpering puppets — but Maggie Sczekan is not of this ilk. She has the kind of rich, expressive voice you want to listen to all night, and all the range and musicality this operatic (or at least operetta-ish) score demands; Markus Warren turns in an equally strong turn as the Phantom. Their performances are supported by clean, professional staging; a cunningly contrived set; elegant costumes; and a group of poised and experienced actors who know when to move into the limelight and when to step back and let the principals have the stage. Presented by Boulder's Dinner Theatre through February 18, 5501 Arapahoe Avenue, Boulder, 303-449-6000, www.bouldersdinnertheatre.com. Reviewed November 24.

Present Laughter. You obviously can't cast Noël Coward himself as the protagonist in Present Laughter, though he did write the play in the spirit of self-parody. Nor, if you're in Colorado, can you find actors with the plummy English accents his dialogue requires. So you might as well decide to make the evening your own and tart it up with all kinds of absurd and anachronistic tricks. The results at Miners Alley are actually bright, smart and entertaining. At the play's center is Gary Essendine, a famous and self-adoring actor who, despite acting like a petulant child most of the time, is actually a master manipulator. On the eve of a tour in Africa, he has to deal with a couple of seductive women wandering around his apartment in silk pajamas and a demented young playwright who lectures him on the frivolity of his work in theater. Orchestrating almost every act of his life is his level-headed ex-wife, Liz, who's still determined to take care of him even though they no longer have the slightest sexual interest in each other. Director Richard H. Pegg sets the action in the 1980s, and doesn't particularly trouble himself with the contradictions this causes. The play's language remains Coward's (for the most part!), and the lifestyle and theater scene it portrays is pure early twentieth century. But predatory temptress Joanna rises from the murk of America's Deep South, and the interpolated last scene simply rips apart the genteel fabric. Ultimately, this mix of style and vulgarity works — both because it's so carefully orchestrated and because Pegg understands exactly when he's paying homage to a venerable tradition and when he's crazily and flat-footedly upending it. Presented by Miners Alley Playhouse through February 12, 1224 Washington Avenue, Golden, 303-935-3044, www.minersalley.com. Reviewed January 12.

The Whale. It takes guts and ingenuity to write a play in which the protagonist is a morbidly obese man, constantly on stage and essentially tethered in one place. Charlie is dying of his own weight. He sleeps on the sofa — propped up so he can breathe — and spends almost the entire day there. This static setup means that most of the action is psychological, emotional, metaphorical. Charlie does maintain one significant link to the outside world: He teaches composition courses online, urging bored students to be honest and expressive in their writing. He is visited daily by an old friend, Liz, a nurse, who takes care of him and constantly begs him to go to a hospital and make some attempt to save his own life. Another visitor is a nineteen-year-old Mormon, Elder Thomas, who knocks at the door and becomes determined to rescue Charlie's soul. What's left of Charlie's vitality is focused on a single goal: a rapprochement with his teenage daughter, Ellie. He had left her and her mother many years earlier after falling in love with another man, Alan, who has since died. This is no easy task. The girl is vengeful toward the world in general and filled with contempt for the huge, wallowing father who deserted her. Director Hal Brooks has cast this complex, literate and multi-layered play well, and the production makes it clear that beneath the surprising, irreverent, funny and despairing dialogue, there's a profound tenderness. Presented by the Denver Center Theatre Company through February 19, Ricketson Theatre, Denver Performing Arts Complex, 303-893-4100, www.denvercenter.org. Reviewed January 26.