Review/Theater; Dreamers and Exploiters in a Slice of Americana

Before Baby Jessica, there was Floyd Collins. On Jan. 30, 1925, Collins went exploring underground in Barren County, Ky., looking for a cavern that could be turned into a tourist attraction. Trapped by a fallen rock, he could still speak to the outside world. A cub reporter from The Louisville Courier-Journal climbed down to interview Collins and started an avalanche of press coverage, making the buried man a national obsession and drawing 20,000 curiosity seekers and hustlers to the site. The hoopla didn't save Collins, who died after two weeks underground.

"Floyd Collins" is having its premiere through April 24 at the Plays and Players Theater here to open this year's American Music Theater Festival. It was written and directed by Tina Landau; Adam Guettel wrote the music and, with Ms. Landau, the lyrics.

In "Floyd Collins," the trapped man becomes both character and catalyst. His situation prompts a family explosion, an environmental debate and a sardonic examination of fame, media and exploitation. There's also some sentimentality about big dreams and bucolic memories, but it's kept to a minimum.

The crisis sends Collins's father, Lee (Nick Plakias), from extremes of devoutness to lunatic hucksterism; his sister, Nellie (Theresa McCarthy), reveals a passion for Floyd that seems far more than sisterly. At one point in Act II, things grow so overwrought that it seems the Beverly Hillbillies are putting on "Salome." Meanwhile, Floyd's brother, Homer (Jason Danieley), is swept into small-scale vaudeville stardom.

The rescue attempts match a mining company's machines against Floyd's best friend, Johnny Gerald (Steven Lee Anderson), who says things like "This land, you don't go messin' with it." Meanwhile, there's a media circus in town, with the show's deftest touch: a chorus line of natty, self-satisfied reporters. Scott Zielinski's lighting transforms James Schuette's set, of weathered planks, into zones both open and claustrophobic.

Through it all, Collins (Jim Morlino) remains an individual. Mr. Morlino spends long stretches lying on his back, moving only his head and torso. Yet he holds attention with bright eyes and clear, earnest singing as he moves from confidence to a final, wistful delirium.