It's a Wonderful Life Old-time radio drama gets a nostalgic analog tune-up under Texas Repertory Theatre's shrewd adaptation of Frank Capra's Christmas-friendly movie (1946). In Joe Landry's stage version, we're the 1940s audience during a live radio broadcast of NYC station WBFR's "Playhouse of the Air," like something out of Lux Radio Theatre, renowned for its movie adaptations. We watch the actors take on multiple roles as the drama unfolds, see and hear the sound effects in action, and listen to the humorous commercials for hair pomade, tooth powder and toilet soap. There's even an Applause sign that lights up when appropriate to prompt our responses. All that's missing is the live orchestra. Radio drama's magic depended upon resonant, evocative voices, and director Scott Carr has assembled a talented aural quintet to portray all the many characters of Bedford Falls, New York, a microcosm of American small-town life between the wars. Steve Fenley, with his booming bass, is announcer, God, evil Mr. Potter, ineffectual Uncle Billy and smartass Ernie the cab driver. Matching Fenley's delicious ham, Alan Hall plays Clarence, the guardian angel who's sent to earth to teach George Bailey the moral of the story ("No man is a failure who has friends") and earn his wings after 200 years. Dave Maldonado's lively baritone overlays the story's hero, George, with an everyman tone that becomes increasingly more desperate with what he perceives as his useless, unfulfilled life. Lauren Dolk's calm and soothing alto becomes Mary, George's abiding wife, whose bedrock core of decency and strength is George's pillar; and Lendsey Kersey, looking lovely in sequined jacket and Rita Hayworth hair — Macy Perrone's costumes are spot-on — plays town sexpot Violet and Mom Bailey with equal appeal. But why Violet sports a lowdown accent as if she'd just stepped off the D Train from Grand Concourse is a mystery. Fictional Bedford Falls is placed in upstate New York, not the Bronx. Trey Otis's Art Deco-inspired set doesn't resemble any antique radio station's functional auditorium, but it's visually pleasing. The big fault in Landry's adaptation is having the actors create the sound effects. No vocal talent ever performed the footfalls, water sloshing or door slamming, or shook the metal sheet to replicate thunder. All that was carefully controlled by backstage effects pros. Actors at the mikes wouldn't be clopping around the studio anyway, since their own footsteps would've been broadcast across the country. Close your eyes at Texas Rep and relish the sounds. The five sonorous voices create all manner of pictures that dance in your head. Through December 23. Texas Repertory Theatre Co., 14243 Stuebner Airline. 281-583-7573. — DLG

The Santaland Diaries He's back! That 39-year-old gay schlub, down on his luck and aching for TV soap stardom, finds his calling over the holidays in a temp job from hell as an elf at Macy's Santaland, the place where Christmas spirit goes to die. In David Sedaris's profane, hilarious and politically incorrect dissection of rampant consumerism, based on his own exploits, "Crumpet the Elf" explains it all for you. With Alley Theatre pro Todd Waite in star mode (spelled in some performances by Alley vet Paul Hope), the monologue, adapted by Joe Montello, zooms by with crackling wicked fun. Christmas just isn't Christmas without this jaundiced poke in the eye. Hand casually placed on hip à la Jean Harlow, our unnamed protagonist needs a job badly, and, really, how hard is it to be an elf? Harder than you think. First, there's that Elfin Guide to follow without question — the Macy's Bible of model behavior for all elves toiling in Santaland. You must exude relentless good cheer at all times — even when the little darlings waiting to see Santa vomit from excitement or pee on the floor. You must tolerate psychotic co-workers — spitting Santas and warranted sexual advances from fellow elf Snowball. And then there's that demeaning green velvet costume with its candy cane-striped leggings and goofy medieval hat. (Costumer Blaire Gulledge knows how to design tacky.) As the shopping days count down, the crowds of exasperated parents with shell-shocked tots get more frantic, as does our Crumpet. In ever impressionistic scenes, we're regaled with opinions, dish and wry observations. His "grinding enthusiasm" has a very short, funny fuse. Waite has a field day in this role, a characterization he's honed razor-sharp after four years of donning those tights. He plays him like an elastic band, ad-libbing with the audience and swishing through the routines with incomparable timing. Put upon and sometimes as wonderstruck by the pandemonium of holiday cheer as the wayward adults and frightened kids, he's immensely likable. Guided with gleeful mischief by director David Cromer, his Crumpet glistens with bitchy radiance and wide-eyed bemusement. The Alley is putting Crumpet back in the attic after this year, so if you've never experienced his elfin exploits, now is the time to go and laugh yourself silly. If this show has become your holiday tradition of choice, Santaland Diaries, naughty and nice, requires a final farewell ho-ho-ho. Through December 30. Alley Theatre, 615 Texas. 713-220-5700. — DLG