Sometimes a playwright shines a distinct light on contemporary life by resurrecting another era. Arthur Miller’s “Crucible” allowed him to comment on the extremes of the McCarthy period through the prism of the Salem witch trials of colonial New England. In the 19^th century, Verdi and his librettist disguised their passion for Italian independence in “Nabucco,” an opera set in ancient Babylon.

New Yorker Kathryn Walat chose the opening of the Kansas Territory in 1855, when contentious voting began to determine whether the future state of Kansas would enter the U.S. as a “slave” or “free” state, as the crucible for her 2007 play “Bleeding Kansas.” As contemporary election polls inform us almost daily which formerly “red” state is now turning “blue” and which states are in contention for dominance by either the Republican or the Democratic Party, it is clear why Walat found this obscure historical contretemps fascinating.

Moxie Theatre has mounted a taut, earnest production of “Bleeding Kansas” at Diversionary Theatre, one that is scheduled to end just before this year’s agonizing Presidential election. Walat’s characters proclaim their political views, from the self-righteous New England abolitionist Hannah Rose Allen, to the ardent pro-slavery Southerner Edwin Redpath, to the arrogantly apolitical Kittson Clarke. Walat throws in the historical character John Brown for good measure among her fictitious denizens of eastern Kansas near the Missouri border.

At first it is difficult to summon much sympathy for Walat’s five main characters, since each is a walking billboard for a contrasting political stance. It is not until the story of the hardships of homesteading unfolds between Kitty and her husband George that we are drawn into their plight, an initially boundless hope for a prosperous future ground down by the primitive landscape, their meager farming skills, and the political turmoil that surrounds them like a marauding army. Fortunately, Walat allows her characters to grow and press the edges of their convictions. Without such growth, the play would be as static as the recent presidential debates!

As the Bostonian transplant Hannah Rose, Moxie Associate Artistic Director Jennifer Eve Thorn exudes a self-confidence that is nearly impregnable, carefully shaping her role to avoid priggish self-righteousness. Her abolitionist convictions are grounded in the Bible, Harriet Beecher Stowe, and Henry David Thoreau, and Thorn clearly communicates that her adaptations to frontier mores—tippling with the ruffians and sleeping with a rifle at the ready—are only pragmatic accommodations. She always has her eye on the prize. She may have come to Kansas to teach school to the children of abolitionist settlers, but she remains when these families hastily return to New England because she is convinced that slavery is "a stain on the soul of America," and she will fight to turn the tide against it.

Chris Buess as Edwin Redpath, admirably flaunts his range as the pro-slavery border ruffian from Missouri, charting a skillful path from crude and menacing scoundrel to Hannah Rose’s protective suitor. Jo Anne Glover, another Moxie founder, takes to the gritty, pragmatic, pipe-smoking Kitty Clarke with evident relish. She is able to point out her husband’s shortcomings as farmer and reluctant fighter without compromising her underlying affection and respect. She may throw cold water on everyone else’s ideas, but she eschews even a hint of sarcasm. It is tempting to see her role as the playwright’s own voice: there are no grand, noble victories of right over wrong, but there is that Brechtian survival. And that’s what counts.

David S. Humphrey may be wearing overalls on stage, but the role of George Clarke fits him like a finely-tailored Italian suit. He easily blends idealist, poet, and lover into this pioneer husband, and when George is killed in a fight at the end of the first act, some of the humanity is leached from the remainder of the play. Mark Petrich’s Josiah Nichols, a meek neighbor with passively held pro-slavery views, might have shown more anger when confronted with Kitty’s betrayal of him and his family to the avenging mob of John Brown’s vigilantes. But overall, he manages a downtrodden demeanor that invites sympathy rather than pity.

Director Delicia Turner Sonnenberg keeps a sharp focus on this rather schematic play, making it as naturalistic as possible. She makes us care about the characters, even when they are tightly wrapped in their political cocoons. Jerry Sonnenberg’s minimalist unit set—a wall of cloud-filled Kansas blue sky, a wooden cabin wall with a single shelf, and a real dirt floor—contains all the drama with surprising comfort.

Jennifer Brawn Gittings’ period costumes neatly identify the class of each character, and her bright blue, full-skirted, straight-from-the-streets-of-Boston dress for Hannah Rose slowly succumbs to the brown soil of Kansas over the course of the play. Jason Connors’ sound design moves the play forward at crucial moments without being intrusive, and I particularly enjoyed the rich cello solos performed by Erica Erenyi.

The turmoil that “Bleeding Kansas” depicts did not resolve this country’s slavery question; it would take the Civil War and another hundred years of political movement to bring that chapter of history to a close. “Bleeding Kansas,” however, reminds us that we cannot escape history’s moral issues by retreating into some personal safety zone.

BLEEDING KANSAS