Belles All Around 

Scientists have never explained how some people can resist going into insulin shock when exposed to Meredith Wilson's The Music Man as many as three times in 18 months. Blithely ignoring the fact that River City, Iowa, had been fleeced in the winter of 2002 at Ovens Auditorium and again last fall on national TV, CP opened its 30th season at Pease Auditorium with yet another visit from flimflammer Harold Hill.That's a formidable challenge for a critic afflicted with taste. Blood sugar rises steadily when one is served fifth and sixth helpings of "Goodnight, My Someone," "Pick a Little, Talk a Little," and "Seventy-Six Trombones." Pile on another seven choruses of "Shipoopi," as Wilson's willful silliness shifts into hyperdrive, and the mind fairly screams out for intellectual protein.

Fortunately, stage director Tom Vance and his garrulous cast show no signs of overdosing on the fluff. The huge ensemble, spurred on by Linda Booth's demanding choreography, fills panoramic Pease with vibrant spectacle over and over.

Patrick Ratchford isn't the most roguish Professor Hill you'll ever see. He doesn't sport the full Midwestern strut of a true drum major leading the marching band of River City youths rescued from the corruption of pocket pool. Nor does his pursuit of Marian the librarian stray toward the frontiers of harassment. What the handsome Ratchford projects best is the charm a prospective mother-in-law could get dopey about -- and a shy, lisping boy could worship.

Marian is a delightful throwback in Susan Roberts Knowlson's rendition, starchy and operatic when she first encounters the charlatan, soft and giddy when she realizes Hill's positive impact on the town and on her withdrawn kid brother. Chemistry between Harold and Marian is surprisingly fresh and touching. The subtle shadings Ginger Heath sprinkles on Marian's mom and the homespun honesty Aubrey McGrath brings to little brother Winthrop thicken the emotion to a sweet goo.

With Dennis Delamar and Pat Heiss as the blustery Mayor Shinn and his wife Eulalie, the laughable pretensions of River City are in reliable hands. Accented by a set of outrageous feather stoles from ace costumer Robert Croghan, the clucking comedy of the five town gossips' "Pick-a-Little" is prime corn.

Drina Keen's fine musical direction is best savored in the singing of the principals and in the harmonizing of the barbershop quartet. Down in the orchestra, the intonation of the brass is less felicitous. Such imperfections did not dismay loyal subscribers on opening night: the Pease lobby buzz, at intermission and heading home, was as enthusiastic as I've ever heard.

Why not? The current Music Man decisively outclasses the national tour that invaded Ovens in 2002, fueling expectations for the summer ahead. With A Chorus Line slated to follow next week, a welcome shot of protein is on the way.

A few blocks north of Elizabeth Avenue, renegades and saloon belles are running loose in a rowdier, raunchier style of musical -- Diamond Studs: The Life of Jesse James -- with a rustic ambiance you won't find anywhere else in town. Honest Pat's Playhouse opened just a couple of weekends ago at the crossroads of 10th Street, Central Avenue, and Louise, so fresh it was still surrounded by a bright yellow police cordon last Friday.Inside, there's plenty of rough-hewn wood and funky rigging. Two Yamaha speakers are tied to the rafters with heavy chain. Stage lights shine on the actor/musicians out of gleaming Folger's and Maxwell House coffee cans. Behind the cramped stage, a circular mirror bears Honest Pat's sleepy logo. Looking straight into that mirror, I found it easy to visualize myself and my wife as spectators at a cockfight.

What we're actually watching is a gifted country-bluegrass band having criminal amounts of fun pickin', grinnin', and telling the story of Jesse James. Their style is so informal that you really don't mind the near-total absence of credibility in the acting. Any expectations of realism plunged as soon as bearded, potbellied Michael Holland unslung his electric guitar, tied on a blue bonnet, and became Jesse's mamaw.

The same kind of informality reigns amid the audience. Free baskets of roasted peanuts are set out at strategic spots around the room, and nobody fusses about where you drop the shells. Circle back to the front entrance, and you can purchase beverages, thick home fries, and the house specialty, shrimpburgers. Eat "em at your seat while a window fan supplies ventilation. When Studs finishes, stick around and you can hear live music after the live music.

We first see Franklin Golden as Jesse when our hero is an eager pup of 16, itching to join Quantrill's Raiders and kill him some Yankees. Donning Quantrill's military duds is none other than Amanda Blackburn Watkins, the best and prettiest actress you'll see at Honest Pat's. Later on, we get to see her more dolled-up as Jesse's wife Zee. Emerging from her backup vocal chores, Watkins proves to be an engaging soloist.

Golden remains basically the same stolid Jesse from his early Civil War days until his celebrated demise, when "that dirty little coward," Bob Ford, betrays his gang leader and shoots poor Jesse in the back. Justin Ansley is sufficiently slimy as the bounty hunter, but his work is even more impressive on drums and washboard.

Jim Wann's script is a wisp of a thing, and I'm not always sure where the original music and lyrics -- by Wann and Bland Simpson -- end and the traditional stuff begins. But the arrangements, singing, and playing are all down-home irresistible. I was particularly dazzled by the musicianship of Julie Oliver, who played stylish licks on bass, banjo, flute, and trumpet. She was no slouch, either, in bandito Pancho Villa's sombrero and mustache.

Other standouts included the long-haired, melodramatic Aaron Gies at the keyboard, and the curly Katherine Rogers on violin. Every bowed solo was delivered with a joyous smile, peppered with suggestive leers, as if she were sharing lewd secrets with us all -- if we could catch the hints.

Wann and Bland aren't about theatre and drama. They're about an organic American music that's intimately connected with outlaws, lowlifes, and loafers. Honest Pat's has perfectly captured the sound, the atmosphere, and the roadhouse spirit. Word has spread. Even with rain pouring down last Friday night, the joint was packed.