GRANDFATHER'S IMPOSITION tries desperately to be interesting. It bombards the audience with passion, adventure, crime and comedy--all in a comfortable domestic setting designed to lend an air of familiarity to the bizarre events. The central character is so colorful that he almost hurts your eyes, and the violent reactions he provokes could furnish enough melodrama for at least three full-length plays.

But underneath all these dramatic contortions, the play seems to be saying that being interesting is not enough. Grandfather Millay (well-played by Gary Norsigian) returns to his family after thirty years of world travel; he has encountered a horde of bloodthirsty cannibals, an entire nation about to pass out from smoking too much marijuana--and is nothing if not interesting.

His decision to move in on his family drives his son, Patrick (Mark Achtemeier), who has always resented him, to the brink of patricide. Patrick's own son Michael (Doug McKinley) has grown up to be unshakeably unimaginative, and rejects his grandfather's offer of an all-expenses-paid trip around the world. He explains that all he really wants to do is settle down and marry his girl friend. Grandfather promptly expires in a living room chair, overcome by this indirect condemnation of his own life-style, while his family celebrates Michael's engagement with champagne. The Millay family gets more responsible but less interesting with each generation.

The author of this moral melodrama, Ron Bitto '74, already has one Harvard production--John's Diner, featured at last year's Quincy House Arts Festival--under his belt. His dialogue still sounds annoyingly bookish, sprinkled with words like "precautious" and "warpedness." Such a style is perfectly suited to Grandfather's verbose monologues and tall tales, but it doesn't sound right coming from the other more down-to-earth characters. Bitto tosses in an occasional four-letter word, but this ploy fails to add any realism.

Even the most gifted actor would have trouble making Bitto's lines sound natural, and most of the members of the cast compound the problem with stilted delivery and mechanical facial expression. The characters often react to each other too soon--or worse, don't react at all.

During the ten scene changes, an overhead loud-speaker rasps out a scratchy medley of forties dance tunes. They sound as quaint and old-fashioned as the message of the play and they remain interesting for a while. But, as the play reminds us, being interesting is not enough.