It’s December 24, it’s almost 6 p.m., and we’re only minutes from the start of KSTG Playhouse. KSTG is, of course, a radio station in Houston, you’re sitting in the audience of the KSTG Radio studio waiting for the start of the night’s coast-to-coast broadcast of It’s a Wonderful Life.
At least, that’s the world Stages is offering over at The Gordy, in It’s a Wonderful Life: A Live Radio Play, a reimagination of the popular 1946 film, about a man at the end of his rope offered a second chance by his guardian angel, as a 1940s radio broadcast, with six actors performing all the roles while creating the sound effects in real time.
Audiences want a little magic around the holidays, maybe even a miracle or two, and It’s a Wonderful Life has benefited from its share. Philip Van Doren Stern penned the source material, a novella titled The Greatest Gift: A Christmas Tale, overlooked until he decided to send out copies as Christmas cards in 1943. One of those cards caught the attention of an agent, who took his tale to Hollywood, where Frank Capra eventually got his hands on the film rights.
Decades later, in the 1970s, unable to compete with the flashy holiday specials favored by the big networks, PBS decided to air the film, fresh out of copyright and pretty much free to broadcast, as counterprogramming, a decision that birthed a holiday viewing tradition that continues to this day.
Yes, the “real feel-good heart-warmer,” as Freddie Filmore introduces it, proves year after year it’s still got plenty of magic to share. And playwright Joe Landry and Stages have managed to mine a little more. Watching a half-dozen performers create an entire world on Jodi Bobrovsky’s black-and-white checkerboard set feels like its own kind of magic. Theatrical magic, that is.
Director Derek Charles Livingston’s invitation into this nostalgic, theatrical world is one easily accepted. The house is trimmed with vintage, Art Deco–style sconces, long rows of small bulbs, and signs ready to flash “On Air” and “Applause.” Lighting Designer Bryan Ealey uses these lights and more to give the faux studio space a warm halo. The soft amber glow, coupled with the red trim of the stage, creates a space that feels cozy and festive.
Scenic designer Bobrovsky outfits the raised platform with charming studio touches—a pile of wrapped gifts, a miniature Christmas tree, and tables laden with objects we can’t wait to see in action later: a pair of shoes, an old trunk, an umbrella, some combs, even a Campbell’s soup can. These bits of set dressing double as foley tools and visual reminders that we’re watching a world being built in real time.
Adding to the atmosphere are Leah Smith’s period-specific costumes. From Sally’s deep emerald dress to Harry’s boldly checkered suit, the wardrobe offers familiar markers of the era: A-line skirts, sweater vests, and bowties in a color palette that pops beautifully against the black-and-white floor. With a red lip here and a set of soft curls there (shoutout to wig stylist Gisell Rubio), the costumes bring a touch of 1940s glamour to the room.
The cast performs in the round and makes full use of the space, playing to every conceivable angle. Their movements are cleanly blocked and subtly choreographed, and they bring an abundance of energy as they shift smoothly over and around the stage, beginning with Ryan Schabach as Jake Laurents, as George Bailey.
Ryan Schabach is a winning George Bailey. He’s charming, sympathetic, and channels Jimmy Stewart’s familiar drawl and signature cadence without slipping into caricature. But Schabach is an even more fascinating Jake Laurents. As Jake, the performer behind the microphone playing George, Schabach draws from an unexpectedly deep well of emotion. The production offers no explanation, but his shaky hands, his too-raw anguish, and the concerned looks the other actors throw his way suggest a man fighting something the audience can only guess at.
Jillian Linton’s Mary Hatch makes a lovely counterpoint to Schabach’s George, and the two share a warm, easy chemistry in their swiftly escalating encounters. DeShae LaShawn brings a delightful versatility to the production—slipping from the flirtatious Violet Bick to Mary’s shrill, overprotective mother, and then to an irresistibly sweet Zuzu Bailey (not to mention a handful of perfectly pitched baby cries).
Christopher Szeto-Joe, radio-announcer-perfect as Freddie Filmore, proves just as compelling as a storyteller; he moves deftly between roles, giving texture to George’s “lovable but forgetful” Uncle Billy and to the older, world-weary Mr. Gower. And Gabriel Regojo is a standout as the likely soulless miser Mr. Potter, a performance made all the more satisfying by the contrast with his good-hearted Harry Bailey and genial Mr. Martini.
As guardian angel Clarence Odbody, AS2, Pamela Vogel is something set apart from the world of Bedford Falls, but she brings a gentle warmth that makes her guidance feel both celestial and deeply human.
All of the performers are asked to multitask—not only playing their radio-actor counterparts and the various characters within It’s a Wonderful Life, but also creating many of the sound effects live onstage. The cast is wonderfully precise, and the sources of sound are clever and consistently fun to watch. Not every effect lands equally well; from my seat, the splash from the bucket of water didn’t quite carry, though Linton’s commitment—donning a smock and perching at the edge of the stage to make the attempt—is certainly appreciated.
In the second act, the production shifts away from performer-generated effects and leans into non-diegetic sound. The choice pays off in the more emotional scenes, where sound designer Robert Leslie Meek introduces a low, droning undercurrent while Bryan Ealey’s lighting deepens into angry reds and dramatic blues. The combination heightens the tension and gives the radio-play world a cinematic weight.
Any nitpicks, though, are beside the point. (Like the program stating radio-play-within-the-play has a 6 p.m. start while the onstage clock begs to differ.) What really matters is the sheer good fun of the production—the generosity of spirit, the holiday warmth, and the gentle reminder that goodwill is still worth tuning in for. Or, in this case, settling into your seat.
Performances will continue at 7 p.m. Wednesdays through Fridays, 1 and 7 p.m. Saturdays, and 1 p.m. Sundays through December 28 at The Gordy, 800 Rosine. For more information, call 713-527-0123 or visit stageshouston.com. $25-$109.