Let me tell you: This show needed two intermissions like a dead donkey needs a high colonic. TWO! And the first intermission was longer than the first act! Sweet Jesus! Have you ever heard of such a thing? And they certainly made no secret of their strategy: It was all about selling cocktails. Cocktails! (Theater Schmeater has a bar, you know.) They even worked three "commercials" into the show—minute-long vignettes hawking, yes, alcohol for sale at intermission!

They were really pushing a $6 blue concoction, the Twilight Zone signature cocktail. (I blew my drink wad on one little $5 glass of wine, so I cannot vouch for anything but its blueness.) If their goal was to make the audience tipsy, then mission accomplished: The old guy next to me got very rosy-cheeked, realized I was reviewing, and kept repeating loud comments that he wanted me to note: "Well, I'm GLAD that this isn't one of those 'overproduced' shows—it leaves more to the imagination!" YES! I heard you the FIRST TIME, drinky!

Anyway, The Twilight Zone: LIVE! is a popular series that has been going on (off and on) for years, and it provides exactly what one would expect: three re-created 22-ish-minute episodes, each one a really quite excellent facsimile of an original episode culled from the creepy ancient TV classic. A spot-on Rod Serling—with his square jaw, helmet hair, relentlessly upsweeping eyebrows, skinny '50s tie, and profound underbite (played by director Tim Moore)—is your host.

In episode 1, an old woman (a very good Melanie Calderwood) meets Mr. Death. (He kills her.) In episode 2, a space convict on a penal asteroid gets an android girlfriend. (He kills her.) In episode 3, a stoic scientist escapes with his family from an apocalyptic world. (He kills everybody.) These stage adaptations have the peculiar plot twists, ominous voice-overs, urgent violins, and unnerving piano riffs of any proper Twilight Zone, all knocked-up on a shoestring budget, with as strong and capable a cast as I've ever seen at the Schmee. Which is a good thing: Had it been otherwise, I never, but never, would have stayed for the third episode, after two (TWO!) intermissions. (I just cannot get over that.) Is this what the economy has done to the allegedly noble art of theater? I almost got the impression that the show was just a clever ruse to trap us in a room with a cash bar.