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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, 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, Reviewed November 15.

Starship Troy: Fame. By 8 p.m. the place is jammed. The audience looks young, some as young as high--schoolers, others in college; there are couples, gay and straight, and a scattering of older folk. Starship Troy is one of Buntport's informal efforts to create cheap, fun, accessible theater. It is a dramatized cartoon, each episode lasting about 45 minutes. The premise: A dump truck orbits space on a mission to clean things up. Its addled crew includes all the usual Buntport suspects: Erik Edborg, who for some reason has dryer-duct tubing sticking out of his front and who cuddles a white stuffed animal; cynical Hannah Duggan; Erin Rollman as an expressionless android (watching Rollman trying to remain expressionless is a comic feast); half-ape Brian Colonna; and Evan Weissman as something, well, something epicene and highly sexualized. An audience member volunteers as Ensign McCoy, who — in a tribute to South Park's Kenny, and perhaps to the Goon Show's Bluebottle before him ("You have deaded me again!") — gets killed in every show. This is throwaway theater in the best sense. If a line thuds to earth, no matter; it's gone as soon as it's said. If a piece of business is pure brilliance — too bad! It'll never be seen again, either. But what the hell, there's always another episode. Presented by Buntport Theater every Tuesday and Wednesday through May, 717 Lipan Street, 720-946-1388, Reviewed November 15.


The 1940's Radio Christmas Carol

Titus Andronicus: the Musical. A wandering troupe of five actors decides to present Shakespeare's bloody and incoherent Titus Andronicus as a musical. The play has lots of plot: Saturninus wants to be king, but the people are leaning toward Titus, conqueror of the Goths, who's just returned to town with four prisoners: Goth queen Tamora and her three sons, one of whom he rapidly executes. Tamora marries Saturninus and proceeds to plot revenge on Titus — a revenge that includes having her two surviving sons kill Saturninus's brother, Bassianus, and rape and mutilate Titus's daughter Lavinia, Bassianus's love. There's more, including the framing of Titus's two innocent boys for murder; Tamora's affair with the villainous Aaron, which results in an illegitimate baby; Titus's attempt to save his sons from execution by cutting off his own hand; and a feast during which Tamora is served pies containing the flesh of her own children — that is, the sons who destroyed poor Lavinia. Buntport actually gets us through the entire plot, and it's all quite coherent — or at least as coherent as the original — with a board complete with caricatures and lightbulbs telling us which of the five actors is playing which of the several dozen characters at any given moment. They all speak and act with complete conviction, while also communicating their awareness of the absurdity of the entire situation, and their playfulness and exuberance make the production a delight. Presented by Buntport Theater through December 29, 717 Lipan Street, 720-946-1388, Reviewed December 13.

White Christmas. This production has its origins in Irving Berlin's patriotic music, post-World War II euphoria, and a cultural-artistic worldview that saw all military officers as bluff, benign father figures, and postulated that most of life's problems could be fixed by putting on a show in the barn. The 1954 film, despite Irving Berlin's wonderful songs and the star power of Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye, Vera Allen and Rosemary Clooney, is almost unwatchable today. This script is by Paul Blake of the St. Louis Municipal Opera and — surprisingly — David Ives, author of the verbally dexterous, hyper-clever set of one-acts called All in the Timing. Although the script tightens the movie's plot a bit, it remains silly and insubstantial: A couple of cynical song-and-dance guys fall in love with a pair of singing sisters; misunderstandings ensue and get resolved; everyone comes together at the end to help the men's beloved onetime Army commander, who's trying without success to keep a Vermont inn solvent, despite an unseasonal shortage of snow. This production is glitzy and practiced, and it doesn't achieve its desired effect until the end of the first act, when the cast joins forces for "Blue Skies," one of the most exuberant songs in the universe. Act two begins on an equal high with "I Love a Piano" — another breathtaking number, beautifully choreographed by Patti Colombo, in which male and female tappers join forces in a joyful and prolonged celebration of music and dance. If you're willing to put the reasoning part of your brain to sleep for a couple of hours and indulge in pink-tinged Christmas nostalgia, this is the show for you. Presented by the Denver Center Theatre Company and Denver Center Attractions through December 30, Buell Theatre, Denver Performing Arts Complex, 303-893-4100, Reviewed December 6.


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