Let us give DCP Theatre in Telford, PA its due; its experienced director Mark D. Henry and a dedicated staff and crew have taken an excruciatingly painful 1930s Broadway melodrama, placed it gently upon a cozy, warmly lit stage hidden deep within a rural enclave of Montgomery County, PA, and have done it justice.
Legendary playwright Lillian Hellman's acclaimed 'The Children's Hour' deals directly with the vicissitudes of innuendo and gossip, and indirectly--- and regrettably--- with the shame and self-loathing of sexual ambiguity.
The troupe is strong at every level, one's attention is never permitted to flag, and even the chilliest of drafts inside the venue cannot lift you from your chair until the final curtain has been drawn.
This is a comfortably competent and believable production, top to bottom.The set by director Mr. Henry is appropriately colorless and Spartan, Geoff Yaroschak's lighting sinister and foreboding. Lillian Pyskaty's costumes quietly support every directorial conceit. 
The cast is a comfortably controlled collective of young and mature players.
Cassidy Butler is sweetly malevolent as the messenger of malice, Mary Tilford.
Madison Jeronis is masterful as the fragile Martha Dobie, and is admirably supported and partnered by a solid Courtney Boches, as Karen Wright.
Linda Friday convincingly weaves the web of destruction as Mary's lethally genteel grandmother, Amelia Tilford.
Really, the production's only shortcomings seem to creep from the playbook itself.
DCP's marketing materials offer an easily digestible synopsis:
"Karen and Martha have worked hard to build and run an all-girls boarding school in a refurbished farmhouse.
"A malicious young girl named Mary starts a rumor that the two women are having a romantic affair.
"With the help of Mary's doting and powerful grandmother, the rumor soon turns to scandal.
Mary realizes the power that she wields and tenaciously sticks to her story, threatening to ruin Karen and Martha's school, relationships, careers, and lives."
The script itself, however, is less easy to swallow.
Very near the outset of the play, events are set in motion that the audience senses will not be derailed when even the most powerful resources exist that could do so.
And although that would, at first glance, seem to place it in company with every Greek tragedy that has been passed down through the ages, 'The Children's Hour' falls well short of their enduring litmus test. While the classic tragedies swirl in preordained circumstances that will forever elude frail humans' abilities to resolve, Hellman's two-dimensional pawns seem unable to see through the most transparent plot devices and rectifiable character flaws--- eavesdropping, peer pressure, pack mentality, fibbing, denial.
And once she has committed to reaching the destination to which she has foresworn, no amount of unlikelihood will make her go where the elements of the show might otherwise have led us.
Mark Henry, the show's director, explains in his playbill notes that the story of this play "seems especially relevant in our present day as we become increasingly exposed to instant stories, fake news and questionable social media sources."
If anything, it would seem as if good old-fashioned blasphemy, slander, and lies playing out in 'The Children's Hour' were preferable to the runaway trains of Facebook, smart phone technology, and instagram.
The broad brushes Hellman requires her central characters to use in smearing themselves to depict and atone for their sexual inclinations and preferences are far more disturbing.
While those plot choices might have been understandable in the more closeted society seventy-five years ago when this show began building its formidable reputation, in today's world they are disfiguring and more than slightly embarrassing.
I'm nonetheless urging you to give this show your time and attention. At the very least, it can start a necessary conversation.
'The Children's Hour' continues through February 10, 2018 at DCP Theatre 795 Ridge Rd, Telford, PA
For tickets and information, call (215) 234-0966.