Capsule Reviews

 The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee. The moldering schoolhouse tradition of spelling bees has inspired a cultural deluge of late, from Myla Goldberg's 2001 novel Bee Season to the feature film Akeelah and the Bee. That the bee has buzzed its way onto the Broadway stage is further proof of the craze. William Finn and Rachel Sheinkin's musical comedy about a group of teenage misfits pitting their linguistic wits against each other won two Tonys and broke several box office records during its Broadway run. Tandem productions are playing in San Francisco and Chicago, with a touring show scheduled for the fall. Within the first 15 minutes of Putnam County's competition — set in a school gym complete with ropes, a basketball hoop, and stadium-style seating — we pretty much know everything we need to know about the contestants: They're freaks. Spelling Bee does have its faults. Most of the songs are about as memorable as the spelling (and meaning) of "macrencephalous"; attempts to inject a whiff of topicality — like a reference to Dick Cheney's shooting incident — feel forced; and many of the laughs come cheap. Yet in riotously sending up the spelling bee phenomenon in a variety of ways (including inviting four audience members onstage to be contestants at every performance), Spelling Bee makes an important point: Despite the high stakes, it's just a game. Through Sept. 3 at the Post Street Theatre, 450 Post (at Powell), S.F. Tickets are $40-66; call 771-6900 or visit www.spellingbeethemusical.com. (Chloe Veltman) Reviewed March 29.

Baum for Peace. It's obvious that Terry Baum is an engaged citizen and a fierce advocate for her community. What's not so obvious is why her 2004 run for Congress as a Green Party candidate was worth turning into a musical performance piece. Feeling frustrated with the "dumb damn Dems" after the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, Baum found solace in Ralph Nader's party of choice, and valiantly attempted to give voice to those she considered underrepresented. Her journey from outraged citizen to inspired politician at times has real resonance — on the night I attended you could practically see the audience searching for a voting booth when Baum pleaded for a move toward proactive political action. However, this well-meaning comedic show too often falls prey to an over-reliance on Baum's abundant charisma and on an overly indulgent crowd. The aging baby boomers and easygoing, like-minded lefties smiled through the sloppy musical accompaniment, trite lyrics, and story that's pinned to an undramatic plot point involving voting-card etiquette. The audience members seemed to be applauding having their own views reflected back at them. Angels in America, Death of a Salesman, A Raisin in the Sun — truly great political plays such as these strive to make decisive, effective theatrical statements in the face of opposition. They never rest on the presumption of a friendly crowd with low standards. Baum for Peace is a call for political commitment that needs to commit itself to the theater. Through Aug. 26 at the Marsh Theater, 1062 Valencia (at 21st St.), S.F. Tickets are $15-22, call 826-5750 or visit www.themarsh.org. (Frank Wortham) Reviewed July 12.

The Censor. Scottish playwright Anthony Neilson’s 1997 drama The Censor has the distinction of being the second Last Planet production in a row to feature a scene in which a woman takes a shit onstage. For all that, The Censor is actually a tender little play; disturbing perhaps, but not shocking. Telling the story of a blue movie director’s attempt to persuade a government censor to pass her hard-core porn flick for screening, the work explores censorship at its most public and private levels. Over a taut, 80-minute denouement, the titular Censor (John Andrew Stillions), a self-described “repressed, anally retentive apparatchik,” learns a thing or two about the difference between sex and love from porn queen Shirley Fontaine (Emma Victoria Glauthier) — and, in so doing, unleashes long-suffocated inner desires. Despite the monosyllabic performances, the humor and surrealism of artistic director John Wilkins’ Vaseline-slick, intimate production thwart our expectations. Offending parts remain coyly concealed behind furniture and clothing, only limply echoed through the grainy footage of humping bodies projected intermittently on a floating scrim. We don’t get to glimpse so much as a hint of flesh or feces, but there’s plenty of love. Through Aug. 26 at Last Planet Theatre, 351 Turk (between Hyde and Leavenworth), S.F. Tickets are $15-18 (and two-for-one on Thursdays); call 440-3505 or visit www.lastplanettheatre.com. (Chloe Veltman) Reviewed Aug. 2.