Eleanor T. Threatt and Evette Perry-Buchanan star as siblings on two divergent levels of the social stratum. Woman from the Town Thru June 13 at Jubilee Theatre, 506 Main St, FW. 817-338-4411.

Jubilee Theatre's current production of Samm Art-Williams' Woman from the Town gleefully trashes two assumptions often encouraged by popular entertainment: one, that poverty is automatically an ennobling experience, and two, that women will assume the roles of nurturers in any given situation. Demolishing these myths is intended to make audiences see the reality of an increasingly common domestic situation that may appear noble but rarely confers dignity or cultivation on the individuals involved -- single-parent families headed by working-poor mothers. And while every success story in this category should be celebrated, it's also important to note the grinding-down that these families endure from their incredible obstacles.

Woman from the Town focuses on two such working mothers -- sisters who've been bitterly estranged for most of their adult lives -- but packages their stories in a way delightfully different from the feminist realism one might expect. The playwright has labeled this script "A Melodrama in Two Acts," which is something of a risk to offer contemporary audiences. It's been decades since the word "melodrama" had a positive connotation in the theater world. But Art-Williams reminds us that the melodrama has for centuries been a legitimate theatrical form; loosely defined, it's simply a play in which the emotions are flaming hot and the stakes are high for all the characters involved. That scenario has often been translated into excessive sentiment and undisciplined performances, but as Jubilee Theatre and guest director Phyllis Cicero remind us with their excellent staging of Woman from the Town, a melodrama can be funny, serious, and engrossing -- if given the right, light touch.

At the center of Woman is the deeply antagonistic relationship between sisters whose hard labor has brought them very different rewards. Laura (Evette Perry-Buchanan) has been maintaining a fifth-generation family farm in North Carolina almost single-handedly, plowing and planting and harvesting even after her son Buddy (Shon Fuller) goes overseas for a brief stint with the Marines. The alleged virtues of backbreaking physical work are nowhere to be found in Laura. Early in the show, she offers one rule by which -- caustic, resentful, and exhausted -- she has lived her life: "I don't forgive, and I don't forget. I work very hard on maintaining that part of my personality." She broods bitterly over the past demands of her now-dead parents and is none too happy at the unexpected return of her younger sister Lila (Eleanor T. Threatt) with acid-tongued grown daughter Rita (Teekoyah "T.K." Nickson) in tow. The two arrive dressed to the nines, sticking out in the dilapidated farmhouse as sharply as chandeliers. But for all her success as a businesswoman, Lila harbors a bitterness as fulsome as her sister's -- 25 years ago she was kicked off the farm by her illiterate father for becoming pregnant with Rita. Driven to succeed as much by spite as ambition, Lila has revenge, not reconciliation, on her mind. Her plans also involve neighbors Hazel (Debbie Dacus) and Sissy (Regina Washington) -- women who're mateless and withered by loneliness and responsibilities too large for them -- whom she believes participated in her cruel exile.

It would be wrong to represent Woman from the Town as some kind of suspense thriller, because despite a couple of unexpected twists, Lila's machinations become apparent early on. The sheer pleasure in this production -- it moves faster than the pages of one of those "a woman wronged returns" pulp novels of the '50s -- is director Phyllis Cicero's firm guidance of each of the performers to understand and then fully embody their characters. No role is extraneous to the momentum of this show; everyone's fate quite literally depends on the whims of Lila, and until the very end we're not sure if she's capable of any mercy at all. Eleanor T. Threatt and Evette Perry-Buchanan are simply outstanding as the sisters, two souls warped in subtly different ways by lives littered with hardship. Threatt conveys an acquisitiveness that is almost shockingly cynical, while it's uncertain if Perry-Buchanan's drained character could enjoy material pleasure if it dropped in her lap. Shon Fuller, as Laura's son Buddy, is a countrified charmer constantly on the edge of a violent outburst. Regina Washington gives what may be the show's riskiest performance -- and succeeds grandly -- as the comic and pathetic Sissy, a faux Southern belle whose checkered past belies her fluttery proclamations of virtue.

Woman from the Town is vaguely reminiscent of Lillian Hellman's Southern Gothic opus The Little Foxes. Both feature families locked in vicious fights over land values. Both plays are also entertaining, largely because most of the characters are so damn unlikable. To this end, Jubilee's cast commands your attention, because they're able to express desperation in varying shades of comedy and tragedy. This isn't a cozy farmhouse you want to linger in because of the company and conversation; it's a rural rat's nest full of activity you can only gape at through a crack in the door.