You'll like 'Sense and Sensibility' -- if you're a woman

Occasionally, stage productions come along that break so extremely along gender lines that it would be ludicrous not to face up to that reality.

Such is the case with the Stolen Shakespeare Guild's presentation of Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility, now at the Fort Worth Community Arts Center.

So the only appropriate way to respond to this show is to offer two reviews and allow readers to take their pick based on chromosome arrangement.

First, a review for our female readers:

This adaptation of Austen's novel by Jon Jory is a loving treatment of the story of the Dashwood sisters and the daunting emotional gantlet they run to find true love. Under the direction of Amber Devlin, the production does a nice job of capturing the tone and flavor of Austen's highly mannered world. The presentation is greatly enhanced by the consistency of the performances on every level. The players' abilities are fairly balanced and are on the same page in terms of understanding the universe that Austen and Devlin have created for them.

While nearly all the actresses come across well (including their British accents), Janelle Lutz, as the younger Dashwood girl, Marianne, stands out. A beautifully natural performer, she imbues her character with a lot of spunk while also exploiting her vulnerabilities. Truett Adams, as the elder sister, Elinor, deserves kudos for doing most of the heavy lifting and riding herd on the numerous romances and romancers populating the piece.

By comparison, the men of the cast are all a bit stiff in their acting. But they cut dashing figures thanks to the outstanding period costuming by Lauren Morgan.

The flaws in the production are that it moves far too slowly and does not really have a set. But, if you are a fan of the novel, you are likely to enjoy seeing familiar characters come to life.

And now a review for the guys:

Do not, under any circumstances, allow yourself to be dragged to this overstuffed sofa of a show. No matter how badly you messed up, you did not mess up enough to merit having to sit through this parade of weepy women in strange dresses prattling on about feelings and stuff. Remember that Merchant Ivory film festival she made you go to? Well this is worse.

Fake a fatal disease or, if necessary, enter the Federal Witness Protection Program, but do not subject yourself to this British-accented wallow in tortured romance.