"The Night of the Hunter" is not a feel-good play, but it is a very good one, exceedingly well performed and produced. Playing at City Lit Theatre through December 3 it was adapted for the stage by Shawna Tucker from the novel of the same name by Davis Grubb.

It is based on the true story of Harry Powers, a serial killer hanged in 1932 in Clarksburg, WV. 

John Harper (Alex Albrecht), driven to despair in the Great Depression, impulsively robs a bank, killing two people. He stumbles home and gives the $10,000 he stole (an exorbitant sum in 1932) to his nine year old son John and little Pearl, who’s not yet four. Before surrendering himself to the police he extracts from young John a pledge to always protect both his little sister and the money, cunningly hidden inside Pearl’s favorite dolly.

Harper’s cellmate in Moundsville Penitentiary is Powers (Bryan Breau), a con man who murders widows once he’s reaped their savings. Unable to winkle the secret from Harper before he’s hanged, Powers is eventually released, and promptly heads for Harper's tiny Appalachian hometown to try his luck with the widow.

Kendal Romero and Bryan Breau in "Night of the Hunter" at City Lit Theatre.

The struggling young widow Willa (Kendal Romero) is waiting tables at the cafe – the hub for town gossip – and speculation on “Where did he hide the money?” has become a town obsession. Willa swears her husband never told her, but most don’t believe her, especially Powers, and he proceeds to charm her, along with the rest of the town. Bryan Breau is indeed tantalizing as Preacher; one wonders, with café owners Icey (Sheila Willis) and Ben (Alex Albrecht) at Willa’s hesitation to accept his proposal.

Mary Margaret McCormack is full-grown and taller than Pearl’s ‘elder’ brother John (Jacqui Touchet), yet she plays the role of Pearl so credibly that one sees not the actor but the little girl. McCormack eloquently depicts the turmoil and distress of a little bitty girl burdened with far too big a secret, especially as, unlike John, Pearl is enchanted with her "new daddy." But she trusts her big brother, even when she’s sure John is wrong.

Jacqui Touchet’s John was just as persuasive: a youngster poised at the transition from childhood into manhood, forced too early into the role of "man of the house," only to be challenged by a man John neither likes nor trusts. Touchet gave an authentic picture of a boy trying to protect his mother and little sister from a man that everyone insists is a good man, a Man of God; a “Preacher.”

Sheila Willis was brilliant as Icey, a scold and a quidnunc with the classic heart of gold and generally good intuition … except about Preacher. Other townsfolk – Ruby, Miz Cunningham and Birdie – were variously played by Rich Cotovsky and Simmery Branch.

I was impressed by Kendal Romero’s interpretation of Willa as an ineffectual woman whose instinct to refuse Preacher capitulates under peer pressure, only to be verified on their wedding night, when Preacher declares their union will be platonic. Evidently he’s not quite ruthless enough to bed a woman he intends to defraud and then kill – what a guy, huh?

Willa is naturally disheartened by his rejection, but under his high-falutin’ pretexts and vindications (not neglecting to mention an Apple from a certain Tree), her disappointment and chagrin mutate into shame at her own depravity. She seeks to purge herself by active participation in the Preacher’s tent revivals where her testimonies, a savory amalgam of titillation and self-loathing, garner huge collections. But it's still not enough for Preacher; he’s haunted by the image of that $10,000.

Director Brian Pastor divided the action into multiple brief vignettes separated by commentary from the Narrator Shawna Tucker, who also wrote the stage adaptation. Set Designer Jeremiah Barr built a very simple set, ably lit by Lighting Designer Liz Cooper, whose raised platform created multiple levels and facilitated rapid transitions using only a couple of benches and a café table. The apparel chosen by Costume Designer Rachel S Parent effectively illustrated each character: ‘accidental’ glimpses of Pearl’s little-girl underpanties complemented McCormack’s portrayal of the child, and dropping Willa’s hemline below that of other townswomen clinched her irresolute persona.

I’ve seen the work of many violence choreographers and Paul Chakrin’s was top shelf, and Stage Manager Ayla Sweet choreographed the swift scene changes expertly. The Depression-era Appalachian accents were adroitly piloted by Dialects Coach Carrie Hardin.