Some resident actors in the company led him to a local woman named [Louise Seger], who had saved a cache of letters from the singer who had died in a plane crash at age 30 in 1963. "Always. . . [Patsy Cline]" was her signature for each letter. Seger's self-deprecating humor and candor were infectious, and [Ted Swindley] quickly schooled himself in the Cline repertory. Entranced, he found himself perceiving the singer through Seger's eyes. Thus the show does not tell the story of Cline's life, which we learn intermittenüy. Instead, me narrative follows Seger's perception of her, from hearing a competition on Arthur Godfrey's Talent Scouts, an Eisenhower-era, genteel anticipation of American Idol.

[Anne Karner]'s experienced theatricality allow for stunning shifts in color and tone that well serve the drive of the narrative. Her delivery of "Crazy," probably Cline's best-known song, is withdrawn and understated. As Louise's narrative puts this in the context of Cline's troubled second marriage, it wrings the maximum emotion from the audience. (At least a half-dozen in Ulis reviewer's row had visible tears in their eyes.) Karner's variety and power mean that all the favorites work their expected magic: "Blue Moon of Kentucky," "Walkin' After Midnight," "She's Got You," "I Fall to Pieces," even Cole Porter's 'True Love."

Brass of a different kind is what [Steve Bebout] calls for from Thomasin Savaiano as Louise, seen here in a blonde wig. No other Louise has sported such a prominent cleavage. A put-upon divorcee with dependent children and a not-always supportive boyfriend, the Louise of the text lives a fantasy life through Patsy Cline's music, until they meet. The singer's absolute lack of pretension and abundant charity work like a religious experience for Louise. Bebout and Savaiano give Louise a sexier edge, a comic-if adoring-foil for the country music saint. This Louise is a coquette who gets what she wants, not just an adoring worshiper.