Theater review: 'It's a Wonderful Life'

Joe Landry’s “It’s a Wonderful Life” is the Manatee Players’ latest production. The play’s based on the screenplay for the 1949 Frank Capra movie, not the original short story. Adapting films for live theater is tricky business. Blame audience expectations.

Audiences hate it if the play falls short of the movie or goes off in a different direction. If the play’s a slavish imitation of the movie, it can seem like a lifeless exercise in nostalgia. Although it may sell tickets.

Landry defeats the imp of expectations with a simple trick: He stages the story as a radio play. Reading from scripts, the actors speak into microphones in the voices of various characters. The set is a radio station, not Bedford Falls. So, it’s up to you to build Bedford Falls, George Bailey’s Building and Loan, George’s drafty old home, the bridge, and Mr. Potter’s bank in your imagination. The play can’t fall short of your dream. Because your dream is all there is.

Unless you’ve spent a lifetime avoiding television, you probably know the play’s plot. In a nutshell: George Bailey wants to kill himself. He’s a very good man, with very bad luck. George wishes he’d never been born. An angel named Clarence shows him what the world would be like if he hadn’t. George changes his mind. Bells ring.

That’s all there is to it, basically. It’s an archetypal story. Archetypes are deceptively simple. That simplicity seems easy. Try writing your own, and you’ll find out differently.

Director Candace Artim lets the tale unfold with naturalistic ease. The supposed radio actors are full of camaraderie. They like the material. I figure the real actors feel the same way.

Mark Shoemaker’s George Bailey is a loveable guy with a tough side that comes out when he’s pushed. His portrayal is clearly informed by Jimmy Stewart’s performance, without being an imitation. Peter Ruscoe is excellent as both the heartless Mr. Potter and the heavenly emissary, Clarence Odbody, and a grab-bag of other characters. Diana Shoemaker is brainy, sweet and loving as George’s wife, Mary. (She’s the real-life wife of the actor playing George, so no method acting was required.) Becky Moran plays the radio studio’s Foley artist with verve. Kudos also to Bradley Keville and Kristin Mazzitelli for evoking a small army of townsfolk.

Scenic designer Ralph Nurmela lovingly brings the 1940s radio station to life down to the smallest details; costume designer Georgina Willmott makes sure the on-air actors look the part.

Expect to be entertained—with no big surprises. George doesn’t jump of the bridge or get thrown in jail. His friends don’t fail to supply the missing money. Clarence isn’t drummed out of heaven for incompetence. Mr. Potter doesn’t laugh in triumph at the end as he renames the town Pottersville. None of that happens. Expect your heart to be warmed. For the happy ending is intact.

The adaptation wraps the original in a frame story—complete with goofy period radio commercials, led by Keville as the slick radio announcer. It’s all very clever and funny. But beneath the shiny wrapping, the Christmas present is still the same.

Like Frank Capra’s original film, Landry’s adaptation is a fable of love and solidarity. George Bailey has the seeds of greatness and dreams big. Instead of building skyscrapers, he stays in his hometown and helps people keep their homes. He’s a behind-the-scenes hero of unseen accomplishments. The trick of the movie was to make George’s everyday heroism visible. This adaptation attempts the same trick with the power of imagination.

And the trick still works.