‘You Can’t Take It With You’ sucks audience in

The College of Southern Nevada’s "You Can’t Take It With You" is an efficient, pleasant production that does what it’s supposed to do: make you laugh.

The George Kaufman/Moss Hart 1930s screwball comedy gives us the inner workings of a large, lovable family playing with a half-deck.

Grandpa (Ken Kucan) owes the IRS decades of back taxes because he doesn’t believe in taxes. Rheba (Brittany Lane) is a maid/cook who has a penchant for cornflakes and water melon at dinner. Alice (Brenna Folger) is the poor "normal" girl who wants to get married but doesn’t want her stuffy in-laws to get tangled up with her folks. Penny (Jane Walsh), Alice’s mother, has taken up writing plays because a typewriter was mistakenly left at the house. And Boris (Cody Scheppmann) is an eccentric Russian ballet teacher who has a scary passion for world politics. In the meantime, there are all sorts of weird explosions coming from the basement that most of the characters ignore.

The script is rich in well-constructed one-liners that still have plenty of life. The show sags only in the last scene when the authors have Grandpa solemnly announce the show’s themes.

Directors April Holladay and Douglas Baker maintain the needed frantic pacing. And Gary Carton’s living room set — which includes chandeliers, wallpaper, paneling, period furniture, passageways and kickknacks — is delightfully detailed. Perhaps, though, the environment is a little too orderly. I’m not sure this particular space belongs to this particular family.

Scheppmann is a hilarious Russian, whose outbursts seem to force their way from his troubled soul. It’s amusing to watch Kucan as the patriarch preside over all the wackiness with the calmness he feels life warrants. And Douglas Baker, as the upper-crust Mr. Kirby, communicates the unattractive dominance of his character while also making it clear how much he wants his son to be happy. It’s a nifty communion of opposites.

Some of the lunacy is faked. But once the script revs up, you’re sucked into the world of this production. The hilarious first-act curtain encourages you to appreciate what works and easily allows you to pardon the rest.

Anthony Del Valle can be reached at vegastheaterchat @aol.com. You can write him c/o Las Vegas Review-Journal, P.O. Box 70, Las Vegas, NV 89125.