Christopher Haines' new company, iTheatre Collective, made some noise with its first show of the season, the one-man Under the Lentil. The newest resident company of the Herberger Theater Center now calls the long-underutilized and excellent black box theater its home. I missed their first production, but was intrigued first by the title, then by the summary of the plot of their latest presentation, Thomas Gibbons' Bee-Luther-Hatchee. At the last minute, I called to make a reservation for their oddly-chosen Thursday night opening, and along with a sadly sparse crowd, saw the blossoming of another worthy small company. Under the meticulous direction of the talented Charles St. Clair and highlighting a committed cast, this exploration of race and literature in contemporary American society manages to take a potentially talky script and turn it into a very compelling night of drama.

According to Depression-era railroad parlance, Bee-Luther-Hatchee is the stop following the terminal of Hell, a forsaken netherworld of wandering worse than the tortures of Hellfire. This is the title of a best-selling non-fiction narrative of Libby Price, a transient African American woman published by a small house focused on the works of blacks. Editor-in-chief Shelita Burns wants to give a voice to the under-represented class. She publishes this book even though the author remains unseen and determinedly reclusive. As Shelita's own popularity increases through articles by the New York Times and offers of lucrative editorial positions at large publishing houses, so does the mystery of the writer, with whom she feels a spiritual connection of a matronly type. The second act of the play asks the pertinent and possibly unanswerable questions, "To whom does reminiscence belong?" and "Where does imagination end and race begin?"

A third of this play is memory, and Mr. St. Clair brilliantly handles the potential problem of scenes of a then-and-now nature. Utilizing a scrim and his precise lighting, present day characters can interact with those in their past in a wonderful way, and he creates strongly affecting scenes though this technique. His pacing, which begins necessarily choppy because of the blackout nature of the early part of the script, eventually flows and tumbles as the power increases.

As Shelita, Sapphire Jule King at first offers what appears to be a very odd performance. Her vocalization is oddly clipped, her demeanor almost too compressed. However, she and Mr. St. Clair have an ulterior motive with this choice. When we finally see her in a personal rather than professional setting, she suddenly drops the "beating the establishment at their own game" attitude and reveals a warmer, more wounded person that is suddenly easier to embrace. It is a great trick of turnaround well executed by Ms. King. Mr. Haines' Sean Leonard is the exact opposite. The very spirit of laid back, his character drawls his way through some excellent points, damningly nice even though he is set up to be initially disliked. As he ambles along, though, Mr. Haines reveals intensity in Sean that is equal parts understandable and creepy. When he and Ms. King twist through their extended debate, they expertly spar and withdraw, though sometimes miss a potentially deeper connection through their long-winded passages. Ever present, Joyce Gittoes is an archetypal Libby, repeating platitudes of a road-weary nature almost to distraction, but when called upon to relive some pretty awful moments in Libby's past, she reveals the forged mettle of a dispossessed outcast in her own country.

In their smaller roles, Ellen Devine and Steven J. Scally do some good work. Ms. Devine seemed a little hesitant on opening night as Shelita's best friend and fellow publishing exec Anna, stepping on some lines and initially missing a connection with Ms. King that eventually reveals itself. Mr. Scally fares better as Libby's benefactor, Robert. He is a giving soul unable to comprehend the cruelties of society, and Mr. Scally exudes the warmth of such a doomed man.

Besides Mr. St. Clair's excellent scenic and lighting design, Diane Harris and Scott Westervelt do some nice work in costuming and sound respectively. A wonderfully chosen and excellently run soundtrack supports the piece, while the costumes are excellent representatives of the characters, from Shelita's power-executive sexy by serious dresses to Sean's shabby academic garb.

There are two kinds of spectacle in theatre. There is the flashy brilliance of the impressive creations mounted by larger theatres, and then there is the spectacle of caged emotion, where a little goes a long way. While the first kind plays upstairs in the larger theaters at the Herberger, downstairs, an example of the second is quietly making its own magic, regrettably mostly unnoticed by the general public.