As the lights dimmed for the Clinton Area Showboat Theatre's production of The Mousetrap - based on Agatha Christie's mystery novel - I already knew whodunnit. But don't be fooled into thinking that I possess superhuman powers of deduction or anything. I was in a high-school production of the play some 20 years ago. (Fine. Twenty-three years ago. Happy, Mom?)

So I'm not exactly fit to comment on how successfully Christie's murderous plot plays itself out here. Yet my familiarity with the story didn't lessen my enjoyment of CAST's endeavor in the slightest. Quite the contrary: I loved this production, because the vigor with which the Mousetrap ensemble played their comically shady characters was positively exhilarating.

In O Brother, Where Art Thou?, Chris Thomas King plays the young blues musician Tommy Johnson, who sells his soul to the devil for the chance to become a legendary guitar player.

"Oh, son," says Tommy's new acquaintance, Delmar, upon learning of the deal. "For that you sold your everlasting soul?"

"Well," replies Tommy, "I wasn't usin' it."

Obviously, King wasn't being typecast in the role. King's musical accomplishments reveal nothing but soul.

The morning after attending the Timber Lake Playhouse's production of the romantic comedy The Philadelphia Story, I drove to my local video store and rented the DVD of the beloved 1940 film, which I had never seen. I would love to report that Timber Lake's production put me in such a happy state that I was simply eager to re-live the stage experience. But unfortunately, the rental was more of a necessity than an indulgence; I had to see what about Philip Barry's play made the movie such a treasure, because its reputed charms, sadly, weren't at all apparent on the Mt. Carroll stage.

A PRAIRIE HOME COMPANION

One of the many glories of Robert Altman is that he never pretends to know everything there is to know about the characters in his movies, and doesn't expect his audiences to, either. In an Altman film, you may think you have someone all figured out, until a later scene proves that you haven't begun to understand what makes them tick; Altman is fascinated with the dichotomy between characters' public and private faces. (It makes perfect sense that he eventually filmed a murder mystery.) It sometimes seems that there's not much going on in an Altman movie, and audiences could easily assume the same about the director's latest, A Prairie Home Companion. But if you're as enthralled with character as the director is, and with the drama of actors gradually revealing character, his ambling, "plotless" films can be sheer bliss.