After launching the first full season of programming with B Is for Beckett, a mélange of three iconic pieces by existential minimalist Samuel Beckett, Balagula Theatre continues its foray into the theater of the absurd with Eugene Ionesco's The Bald Soprano.

Inspired by his struggles to learn English with the Assimil method, a British-centered method that dominated English language instruction during the mid-20th century, the Romanian playwright cleverly turned his frustrations and insights with the non-sequiturs of language and idiom into an artistic commentary on the disjointed nature of communication inherent in modern society.

At least, that's what it appears to me to be about. Witnessing absurdist theater is not a familiar experience for most theater-goers, and the absence or radical alteration of common conventions like plot and realistic character development leaves the experience more open to individual interpretation than most conventional shows.

Director Natasha Williams' take on The Bald Soprano comically revels in the extreme Britishness of the play's inspiration while carefully pacing the comedy's thematic devolution into nonsense. The ensemble cast — infused with the fresh blood of two promising actors new to the region — displays a tight sense of timing and deserves praise for thoughtfully drawn, if abstract, absurdist characters. The result is an offbeat, thought-provoking show that will elude and baffle some and entertain and challenge others.

Lynn Hungerford and Randy Hall open the production as Mrs. and Mr. Smith, a quintessentially British couple who with their guests, the Martins, engage in an evening of typical British socializing. Except that nothing about it is typical. The Smiths live a pedantic life dictated by tea times and clock dings and empty conversations void of connection and meaning. The Martins, too, are hyper-realized versions of empty-headed but well-meaning people whose words and deeds never quite match up. The Smiths and the Martins are versions of textbook families whom English-language students around the world once knew all too well (kind of like Dick and Jane).

Pete Sears and Vanessa Baker share particularly sparky chemistry as the Martins. Sears, who last appeared in B Is for Beckett's Endgame, shows an impressive emotional grasp of his characters' predicament, and recent Lexington transplant Baker's opening-night entrance onto the stage breathed new life into the show just as its momentum was starting to sag.

Later arrivals James Hamblin and Robbie Morgan further ramped up the escalating momentum that is a hallmark of the show. Hamblin mercifully relieves the show of its occasional pretense, infusing gobs of humor as the roving fire chief intent on putting out all fires in England, including those in the hearth. Morgan, a Lexington newcomer, makes mountains out of molehills in her small but spirited role as the maid.

By curtain, the show's playful but empty banter accelerates to a mishmash of rapid-fire, overlapping non-sequiturs that sound like a jumble of noises. The Martins take the place of the Smiths, the dialogue is reversed, and the play ends by looping back to the beginning, underscoring the cyclical nature of how we try, and often fail, to truly communicate.

The heavy artistic wallop that Balagula's more ambitious shows are sometimes known for is certainly present in The Bald Soprano, but a colorful, textbook replica setting, complete with vocabulary labels and the pre-show sounds of the Beatles wafting through the café, not to mention a creative and hilarious pre-recorded curtain speech, lend a playful levity to the evening.

VERSAILLES — The newly christened Woodford Theater, formerly the Woodford County Theatrical Arts Association, opens its 2009-10 season with a Victorian flourish and an homage to one of the wittiest, and most infamous, playwrights of all time.

Beth Kirchner directs The Importance of Being Earnest, Oscare Wilde’s famous farce poking fun at the very London high society circles he himself frequented. Full of ribald characters with vacuous motives, the hallmark of the show is Wilde’s unapologetic, lavish play with language, a linguistically Victorian aspect of the play Kirchner hopes to translate to modern audiences. Her director’s notes lament our culture’s atrophy of language; she points to the theater as a vehicle for preserving the “art form of conversation.”

Nine actors prove more or less up to Kirchner’s lofty task. At evident at Saturday night’s performance, they largely wield the language to potently comedic effect, but a few times, the language wields them, causing them to fall into the trap of caricature over character. These instances do little to disrupt the overall flow and fun of the show, but do prevent the ensemble effort from reaching its highest level of accomplishment.

Set alternately between London and an English country manor in 1895, the play follows Algernon and Jack, a pair of high society bachelors fond of “Bunburying,” Algernon’s term for adopting an alter ego to freely adventure outside London. Bunbury is Algernon’s fake name, while Jack admits to pretending to be Earnest in the city and Jack in the country. Enter a beautiful young girl of marrying age intent on wedding a man named Earnest; her domineering mother; and another beautiful girl intent on marrying a man named Earnest. With that combination, you have a plot ripe for hijinks, confused identities and social parody.

Chris Williams’ Jack is refreshingly drawn and makes some interesting choices that pay off in laughs, like his hilarious mini-breakdown while asking the vicar (played with subtle panache by John Broderick Lynaugh) to re-christen him as “Earnest.” Ryan Briggs is largely responsible for the delivery of the bulk of the play’s most famous satiric lines, lines like, “The amount of women in London who flirt with their own husbands is perfectly scandalous.” Replete with the ostentatious dress of a dandy, Briggs is sufficiently Wildean as Algernon but occasionally fails to connect with the audience as well as other cast members, perhaps out of his character’s perceived intellectual aloofness and commitment to utter foppishness.

While the male duo sets the plot in motion, it is the female characters who bring real color and vivacity to the show, both in costumer J. Darrell Maines’ jewel-toned frocks and the relish with which they embrace Wilde’s hyperbolic parody of high society women. Gina Scott-Lynaugh is tyrannically haughty, wretchedly domineering and love-to-hate-her loathsome as Lady Bracknell. And Dara Jade Tiller and Christina Ritter nail passive-aggressive faux formality when their characters, Gwendolen and Cecily, discover they are rival fiancées to Earnest.

Kirchner teamed up with her lighting designer, W. Todd Pickett, to design the set, an impressive revolving stage that drew a few gasps when a surprised audience saw the first rotation.

Speaking of the audience, the Saturday night crowd I was a part of did not react much to the funnier moments in the script. The first laugh-out-loud moment came not after one of Wilde’s famously wry, sardonic quips, but only after one of the main characters sat on top of another one in a bit of injected slapstick, indicating that despite Kirchner’s best efforts, the audience just may not be that into 19th-century period pieces. Audience speculation aside, the show remains solid, fun, and most important, Wilde.

“We’re still here!” Actors Guild of Lexington managing director Kimberly Shaw exclaimed in her curtain speech on opening night of Beguiled Again, a musical revue of the songs of Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart. Yes, Actors Guild is still here — but just barely.

AGL has had a rough summer of financial troubles and personnel changes, but the season opener feels like the kind of show that is held together with blood, sweat, duct tape and a lot of crossed fingers. Technical elements seem hurriedly and thoughtlessly assembled and while the six-piece ensemble of performers has the pipes to do the music justice, they falter as actors, lacking the necessary verve and charisma to effectively sell the show to the audience.

Featuring more than 50 Rodgers and Hart selections that span the duo’s Broadway and Hollywood career, Beguiled Again’s greatest challenge is its very format: the musical revue. With no plot, no back story, no real characters even, the show relies on music and spectacle alone to make its case. A few cheesy skits serve as transitions from one song grouping to another, often linked by theme. Because a musical revue does not have a storyline to keep the audience engaged, to succeed it must rely entirely on a strong directorial vision, flawless technical design and performers who really know how to work a crowd. As of Friday night, none of these elements had begun to jell.

Stephen Currens’ directorial vision lacks polish and originality and fails to compensate for obvious weaknesses. For instance, knowing that the performers cannot carry the thrust of the show themselves (a bright and captivating Sarah M. Matthews being the notable exception), why not indulge in some glamorous spectacle to keep the audience entertained? How about sparklier costuming or more visually engaging set and lighting design? Eric Seale’s set design offers a simple enough premise: A three-piece band is flanked on either side by suspended large mirrors that smack of Broadway dressing rooms. I am no carpenter, but something in their construction seems largely unfinished, a trait that intermittently plagues other aspects of the production. For example, there is more than one instance in which the performers simply stand and sing with their arms to the sides, indicating to me that perhaps some choreography remains to be added.

Speaking of things to be added, I was flummoxed by the presence of a large projector screen suspended behind the band. The words “Beguiled Again” are brightly displayed in a funky, neon-sign font. I was expecting visual images to be projected during the show, perhaps some New York scenes during Broadway skits or whatever might correspond with the show’s shifting themes. But there was never anything else projected onto the screen except for the word “intermission.” Why go to the trouble of adding this element without using it? Why not just make a real sign instead?

The show is not all bad, just wildly uneven, with peaks and valleys that range from soaring vocal harmonies and solos rendered with aching tenderness to stilted choreography and ho-hum filler pieces that are executed without confidence or heart. Some scenes, like the show’s opening number, seem downright student-y. Perhaps it was David Probus’ washed-out lighting in the opening numbers, but a few of the actors had the deer-in-the-headlights look of stage fright and seemed to be literally just going through the motions. Their stiff nerves seemed to thaw as the show gained momentum, and by the second act, scenes like the show’s rousing finale elevated the production to more professional levels.

If Currens and company can get the remainder of the show, which runs through Oct. 4, on par with its better moments, Beguiled Again might experience a revival. Otherwise, it is a rough but tenacious testament to determination. Yes, despite a host of obstacles, the show did go on. That's about it.