It has the heft of a novel -- rich small town atmosphere; a succession of people who already know each other, leaving us to piece together on the fly their relationships and quirks; and lots of story.

Bob Donaldson, Post-Gazette photos From left, Jenny Wales, Rebecca Harris, Theo Allyn, Sheila McKenna and Gwendolen Morton rehearse "Mezzulah, 1946," at the City Theater on the South Side. Click photo for larger image. 'Mezzulah, 1946' Where: City Theatre, Bingham and 13th streets, South Side. When: Through April 1; Tues. 7 p.m.; Wed.-Fri. 8 p.m.; Sat. 5:30 and 9 p.m.; Sun. 2 p.m. Tickets: $15-$45; 412-431-CITY.

At the ground level where we live, "Mezzulah, 1946" is a real good story about ordinary people who, when you look closely, are of great interest. It's astonishing to realize it takes just two hours, the time is so riveting and full.

Clearly playwright Michele Lowe is a fine storyteller with a great comic sense, and she handles unobtrusive exposition like a veteran.

She has an eye for the telling character detail, along with a knack for moving quickly from one story to another and a palpable sense of place, reminding me of such small-town-genre plays as Rinne Groff's "The Ruby Sunrise" or John Olive's "The Voice of the Prairie," or of artist Thomas Hart Benton.

But "Mezzulah" isn't content to stay on the literal level. It adds a wandering widow and a tangible ghost and intersperses the story with period songs, which arise naturally enough out of the action but also stop-frame and comment in a way we associate with Brecht.

And at the end (the one part about which I have hesitations) we ascend -- quite literally -- to a level of giddy prophecy.

Theo Allyn, left, and Joel Ripka rehearse for "Mezzulah, 1946." Click photo for larger image.

For this brisk telling and for all the narrative and character detail, credit also director Erica Schmidt and a big cast of 10.

We can't know whether playwright, director or actor is responsible for the world of meaning in a shrug, glance or sigh, but we consume it all with avid attention.

Set in 1946 in a small Washington state town with a Boeing airplane plant, "Mezzulah" dramatizes the return of the men from war and the shrinking back into domestic lives of a generation of Rosie the Riveters. But Mezzulah Steiner, 19, who can wire a cockpit better than any man and designs Leonardo-like images of the future, refuses to shrink.

Will Mezzulah accept the newly conscribed woman's role? If she's fired, what would happen to her creative energy and ambition? And what about the community spirit that won the war -- where does that now turn?

That's the central conflict. But "Mezzulah" is especially rich in women; witness that it was Mezzulah's father who died at her birth, not her mother, Mary, who has found a man to stir dormant feelings.

There's dissatisfaction in the marriage of Mary's sensitive sister, Suzannah, and mixed feelings in two former workers, Clementine and Elvira. There's also a young man interested in Mezzulah, if she can come down from aeronautical heaven and potential martyrdom.

	Playwright Michele Lowe Click photo for larger image.

Theo Allyn plays Mezzulah with grit, haunting eyes and only a touch of irritating precocity. Sheila McKenna's Mary is a delicate portrait of concern and awakening potential, and Rebecca Harris' Suzannah has that small-town yearning we associate with, say, Sinclair Lewis. Jenny Wales does an amazing comic double as the ethereal widow and hysterical (in both sense) Sally, whose pregnancy foretells the baby-booming '50s. Gwen Morton's Elvira has a perfect period look.

Johnny Giacalone and Jeffrey Carpenter give delicate dimension to what could be stock roles, and Joel Ripka is an appealing match for Mezzulah.

Brett Mack's ghost is the more telling because he seems so young, and Larry John Meyers adds believable weight as the heavy.

Tony Ferrieri's wooden set takes Andy Ostrowski's lights so as to create a variety of locations. The ladder to the attic is a vivid image of aspiration.

Here's my problem with the ending. (And here's where you stop reading if you don't want it given away.) It's just too sweet: the bad guy is a stand-in for a bigger bad guy we never meet, and unseen forces rally around. Also, we see pictorial evidence of Mezzulah's genius that just doesn't make literal sense.

So I gather we've ascended to the level of parable, an uplifting vision of individual freedom. I ate it up like the rest of the audience, but it undercuts the loving realism of much of this engrossing and entertaining play.