"Merry Christmas, Roberta" is a holiday story in the sentimental tradition of fuzzy kitten calendar art that doesn't easily fit into the context of live theater.

Originally a screenplay by Jon Brekke and Eric Nemoto, the script has been adapted for the stage by Brekke and Michael Wurth, who co-direct the production now at The Actors' Group.

The story centers on the young daughter of a couple of struggling mom-and-pop grocery owners, who secretly befriends a homeless woman. The play sensitizes audiences and underscores family values, but it also oversimplifies its themes and fails to find its legs on a live stage.

We get the premise almost immediately, and the 40-minute first act does little to amplify character or background — chores much more successfully handled by a film's ability to tell a story with pictures and to edit shots to create personal focus.

The script says Mom and Dad and a full-time helper all work hard to keep the business going. But we see them nearly immobilized by the confines of a tiny stage, occasionally rearranging cans or counting pieces of fruit In the entire play, there is only one customer, and the upstairs tenant receives only glancing references.

Similarly, we must assume the gritty and austere nature of life spent on a park bench, lacking a camera to show us that reality. Without pictures, we must rely on words, and the dialogue lacks punch until the middle of the second act, when Roberta describes a tragedy from her past.

The cast works hard on its characters but can't fully overcome the thin script.

Laurie Tanoura has the right twangy accent for the homeless Roberta, but never explains how her personal trauma brought her from a middle-class life in Colorado to a hard bench in Honolulu.

Amber Hazelwood marches to her own drummer as the girl, and picks up street people with a dismaying lack of real-world caution.

Eric Nemoto's father lacks awareness but has flashes of self-deprecating humor.

Only Stephanie Kuroda, in the small role of a disturbed street person, displays the edginess that might take this play from a greeting card into the real world.

Ultimately, the story is what it is; we shouldn't expect an episode of "Little House on the Prairie" to present an accurate depiction of farming on the American frontier.

Similarly, "Merry Christmas, Roberta" is a saccharine version of a sour social issue that most people would prefer to ignore. Nor does it clearly back away from the romantic idea that problems would disappear if we only cleaned them up and brought them home to dinner.

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