If I Die in a Combat Zone
Book-It at Richard Hugo House, 325-6500.
$19 (senior/student/group discounts available).
Through April 28.

Because the current war feels so remote (on a different continent and on TV), it's natural to want a touch of war's emotions--just a touch, to stay in touch. Book-It Repertory Theatre didn't plan this, but a play based on a book by Vietnam lit laureate Tim O'Brien seems like just the thing: There's lots of soldier-shouting, characters are killed, and the cast frequently points guns toward the audience, sometimes even to fire "boom!"

If I Die in a Combat Zone is one of Tim O'Brien's more straightforward books. Written in 1973, it's a memoir devoted to presenting the characters and stories with occasional introspection, unlike the slippery and marvelous narrative of Going After Cacciato (1975) or the surreal masterpiece In the Lake of the Woods (1994). Those two books would have been much more challenging and perhaps more rewarding to put into live action. They have shadowy characters, strange scenarios, and deeply disturbing mysteries, whereas If I Die is everything you'd expect from a Vietnam story and not too much more.

Nevertheless, the cast does O'Brien's memoir justice. Adapter and director David Quicksall developed a tight and stimulating succession of scenes. There's so much choreography in this production, both within scenes and also to fluidly change the scenes, it felt like one step away from a musical. Actors work together like a well-trained troop. The lead performances by Mike Christensen and Jim Gall (both play Army authorities), David S. Hogan (who plays O'Brien), and Tim Gouran (who plays "Mad Mark," a Green Beret first lieutenant who cares for his troops but is freakishly cruel to the Vietcong, once bringing an ear to proudly show the platoon) were all captivating. In the end, If I Die is that rare thing in theater: a long play that doesn't drag or whither. BRIAN GOEDDE

Into the West
Seattle Children's Theatre, 441-3322.
Adults $21.50-$22.50, senior/student/child $14.50-$15.50.
Through April 28.

Don't let the label "children's theater' put you off. Into the West is a complex and artful show about, among other things, the relationship between fantasy and grief. The plot itself is a bit complicated; I recommend you read the synopsis in the program at least twice before the show. And frankly, I can't imagine an eight-year-old (the notes say Into the West is for "ages 8 and up" ) getting most of what this emotionally wrenching show is all about.

But everyone will be wowed by the astonishing permutations of the three-person cast. Jason Collins, Jennifer Sue Johnson, and Timothy Hyland play, respectively, a young Irish boy, his little sister, and their widower Pa. They also play a few dozen other parts--including a grandfather, cops, social-service types, TV announcers, a dog, and an Elvis-wannabe pawn broker. Each actor also plays, at various times, a horse: Tir Na n'Og, named after the land beneath the sea of Irish legend, comes to live with the kids and their boozer dad on the l4th floor of their shitty Dublin flat. (The scene in which the cast tries to get the horse into the elevator is priceless.) Later Tir Na n'Og magically carries them to the western beach, where they are finally able to confront the source of their grief.

The single set morphs from beach to flat, elevator to train, convenience store to race track. All of this is accompanied by live, onstage accordion music! From the opening moment, in which the supple cast enacts the breaking of waves on the shore, to the satisfying return to this image at the end, this production exemplifies the best of what theater can do with a simple set, a good script, and amazing actors. REBECCA BROWN

It's Not You, It's Me
Umbrella Arts at Open Circle Theater, 281-4285. $15.
Through April 28.

I'm beginning to sound like a broken record. This is the fourth romantic comedy--the second musical one--that I've reviewed in six months, and my fingers are so accustomed to typing the words "predictable" and "cliché" I could do it in my sleep. But still, I was hopeful that this popular Fringe Fest show would manage to deliver somehow. And it did. Well, sort of.

This show isn't sure what it wants to be: an honest "boy gets, loses, then gets back girl" scenario, or a random group of musical vignettes that examine the vagaries of love. First attempts at character or plot development were thrown out of whack by misguided musical side trips--remote-control-hogging hubby vs. irritated wife, a boy vs. girl football-game analogy, and even (oh my god) an ersatz '70s-esque Dating Game (ACK!!), followed by a "nostalgic" look back at love in the '50s. Gag. Retch. And while the theme of these musical fantasies was dating and love (and two of them were even clever), they really had nothing to do with the story. And there WAS a story.

And I LIKED the story.

Steve and Amber broke up. Their friends conspire to reunite them. Simple. And the songs that actually PERTAINED to the plot were terrific. Inspired lyrics like "Who do I need to screw to get laid around here?" and "Love is like a shit-flavored Popsicle" did miracles at keeping the show fresh, and the hilarious "boy band" composed of bitter ex-boyfriends had me on the floor. There was even this weird little bit about nympho space aliens. It was clunky and corny, but nothing I could possibly call predictable. Even with its flaws, I left feeling that this was a great little show--and that I hadn't just wasted my Saturday night on ANOTHER ill-conceived "romantic comedy." ADRIAN RYAN