This hayere show they's a-puttin' on at Kirkland Hayuse roun' about now has hits annoyin' aspects, ya know? Lak Ah means for instance thuh hull damn thang is did in this hayere gawddam diuhlect, which at times gits purty sickenin'. And thuh way them guys clomp aroun' back uh thuh stage and forgit tuh turn thuh lights on an' off ain't inny too plasin' neither. Offhand, Ah cain't thank uv no wuss place to put on uh play than thet thar Kirkland Hayuse Joonyer Cummin Room. Sum uv thuh actin' ain't all thet all-fired good, is another thang.

Well, anyway, enough of this. Kirkland House's production of Dark of the Moon is not without faults, most of which could, and even may, be corrected. But, chiefly because of the exertions of the multi-talented Booker Bradshaw, they've really got something down there. You ought to go and see what they have done.

Dark of the Moon isn't the kind of play you run across every day, especially around Harvard. Written in 1945 by two Englishmen, Howard Richardson and William Berney, Dark of the Moon is a rendition of "The Ballad of Barbara Allen," set in the Smoky Mountains. It is the tale of John the Witch Boy's painful struggle to become a human, and of his failure; and the characters are some of the seediest hill folk this side of Tobacco Road.

The Kirkland production succeeds in capturing the humor, the squalor, the tragedy, and the eeriness of the play. The show starts slowly, but by the second act it is really rolling, and the climactic scenes in the church at Buck Creek and on the mountain peak are powerful theatre.

David Fairchild has made a valiant effort to hack out a set in the Common Room, but the split tableau has an unfinished look that is probably not intentional. The lighting arrangement is fine as a concept; hopefully, the effects will be better executed than they were last night. It is evidently quite hard to exit from the stage, and there were several embarrassing waits last night, both between and during scenes.

Still, the show is a triumph. In the main, this is due to Mr. Bradshaw as John the Witch Boy. Mr. Bradshaw's voice, his eloquent facial expressions, and his lithe and graceful movements make everyone forget the production's rough edges. He and Ronald Blau also contribute some excellent incidental music. Mr. Bradshaw's performance is as fine a one as Harvard is likely to see this year.

Mr. Bradshaw's fellow players give him varying degrees of support. Madeline Rosten, as Barbara Allen, is a bit stolid on occasion, but she has the proper amount of scorn and sinfulness. Gary Zukav gives the part of Barbara's father an Andy Griffith reading, which somehow seems out of place, but he is funny. So is George Blecher, as Barbara's half-wit brother.

Steve Botein occasionally founders on the dialect, but he is generally effective as Preacher Haggler. In the church scene, he is overpowering as, sweating profusely, he shouts down the devil. Arthur Roberts competently plays Marvin Hudgens, who lusts after Barbara Allen, and Sarah Leary and Rosalind Miller are two of the sexiest, most fetching little witches you could ever hope to see.

The scenes on which director Thomas Lee Hinkle has chosen to exert himself are brilliant--especially the church episode, which quickly switches from hilarity to bestiality, and leaves the audience gaping. Most of the first act, however, suffers from poor timing. Miss Reed's choreography is nothing special, but it serves the purpose.

One hopes Hinkle will teach his boys and girls what to do on curtain calls, a typically neglected minor detail. The cast is certain to receive prolonged applause; there must be something they can do besides smile nervously and back offstage.