Under Pat Birch’s fluid, even snappy, direction, a fine cast plays all this with great conviction — even if Westenberg is a bit too stalwart and stentorian as Stan, and Hickok’s not totally convincing as the “thoroughly bad character” he advertises himself to be.
The women are completely winning, Wintersteller perfectly embodying that sad spinster mix of devotedness and frustration, Austin the picture of a prim and protected soul who has found her life’s mission in an unexpected place.
And, as a meek singing schoolteacher hired by Amy to impersonate Angela de la Fortune, Meagen Fay almost steals the show, her eyeballs spinning like blue tops as Stan suddenly kisses her — comic touches in what is, in fact, a cruel scene.
James Noone has provided a dreamy setting — colored lights twinkle behind a pastoral scrim surrounding a few set pieces that simply suggest the plain locale , and the dreaminess is reinforced by Kirk Bookman’s lighting. Also just right are Rodney Munoz’s Ike-era clothes.
Indeed, professionalism is in evidence throughout this “Letter.” But it’s of the cookie-cutter sort, botching nearly every attempt to get inside these people — or us, for that matter.