The Hollywood blacklist is a topic of conversation recently, with the passing of such key players of Dalton Trumbo and Elia Kazan. A shameful reminder of what may seem a good idea now can become your Achilles' heel in the future, the House Un-American Activities Commission's communist witch hunts of the 1940s and 1950s sought out those who had been earnest members of the labor movement of the 1930s, sweeping through government, academia, and the entertainment field. The Value of Names is Jeffrey Sweet's fictionalized account of two men, one who named and the one who was named, and the daughter of the wronged man. It explores the issues of concession, forgiveness, and how the next generation must deal with the mistakes of the past. Director Mark DeMichele has made this three person play, potentially a talking heads script that covers a lot of ground, into a compelling debate that generally moves fluidly and sets in one place as intensity demands.

Set on the lavish back patio of a beachside home in Malibu, Benny Silverman, a comedic actor whose career was interrupted by the blacklist, is arguing with his daughter about her decision to change her stage name to Norma Title, avoiding claims of nepotism at this pivotal point in her acting career. The issue of names becomes even more pronounced by a visit from former colleague Leo Greshen, a man he hasn't spoken to in almost thirty years after Leo saved his career by naming Benny's name to the HUAC. Benny and Leo are larger-than-life characters, and their debate, which takes up a bulk of the play, explores the many facets of this not-so-very cut-and-dried issue.

For a play filled with talking, Mr. DeMichele makes the piece quite lively, having his characters bounce around the stage as they defend their positions. This aids greatly in keeping the evening visually appealing, but does not distract from the larger issues discussed. His casting has brought in three impressive, proven performers to portray these iconic figures.

David Barker once again transforms himself to become the mid-70s Benny. Though his thick Yiddish-infused accent recedes through the course of the play, he becomes the embodiment of an actor who has survived the trauma of losing his art and returning to it once more through a sappy hit sitcom years later. His physicalization is perfect, toning his nimble, spry movements into the hesitations of an older character. When he and the equally impressive Benjamin Stewart as Leo discuss their firmly entrenched positions, the joy is not only to watch them act, but to react as well. These two actors know not only to present their characters in dialogue, but also to actually live in the moment and listen when they are not the center of attention, rather than wait their turn and anticipate their cue. I often found myself looking at the silent person and marveling at their truly rapt attention to the other and wishing more actors were capable of this. Where Barker is a heavy presence, thudding through the now with the weight of the past upon his shoulders, Mr. Stewart is airy, flitting into his former friends' backyard and constantly animating his stories with gestures and movements. His wavering voice and jovial countenance hides a recessed guilt that never goes away.

Upon the character of Norma is placed the unenviable task of being narrator as well as participant, and Angelica Frost does what she can with this distraction. I'm not a fan of asides, as it disrupts the action and calls attention to a playwriting weakness. When not saddled with this difficult device, Ms. Frost is a sympathetic Norma. Her nervousness and apprehension about her body is expressed with an economy of movement, from the defensive crossing of her arms over her chest to her quick crosses to get out of the line of fire. Her vocal quality is consistent. The only slight hesitation comes from her inability to deeply connect with Barker beyond the façadal misgivings of a grown up daughter and her standoffish sire.

Thom Gilseth's set is a mini-masterpiece, using the oddly-shaped space to create the beautiful surroundings. Troy Buckey's subtle lighting is wonderful; it isn't until the events wind down that you recognize the setting of the sun. Cari S. Smith's costumes are generic, never giving a hint to the 1981 setting. Bill Osborne's sound design is precise and limited, mostly concentrating on the appropriate pre show music.

The script itself starts out choppy, with a few awkward transitions beyond the asides. As the debate begins in earnest, the play becomes a powerful attempt to find the right way to handle a mostly wrong situation. At 85 minutes without an intermission, it held my attention right through to the powerful conclusion.