Fall in love with 'Almost, Maine':

How wonderful. How refreshing.

A play about love that's void of cliché and canned sitcom dialogue.

"Almost, Maine," now at the Florida Repertory Theatre, is as splendidly unpredictable and magical as falling in love.

And if there's any justice in the world, it'll enjoy as successful a run this month at Florida Rep as it did Off-Broadway last year.

John Cariani's play looks at 18 different people in a small inland town in Maine who fall in and out of love in unusual and surprising ways. (Almost isn't really a town, one character says, explaining, "To be a town, you have to get organized.")

It's a Friday night with the northern lights glowing and undulating in the sky. Love - and magic - are also in the air.

Cariani's written a series of vignettes focusing on various people in a small Maine community. Some are broken-hearted, some are stuck in a stagnant relationship, some are feeling the initial small stirrings of love. And then there are the two who literally fall in love. Love hits them so hard they can't stand up, falling to the ground over and over again in a beautiful comic ballet of flailing limbs and pratfalls.

"Almost, Maine" contains many delightful twists and O. Henry endings, which makes it difficult to write about without spoiling the surprises. (Even the stagehands - interns Rachel Lomax and John Warren - get into the act. Never before has the switching of props been so creative or entertaining.)

Michelle Damato, a spitfire on stage, plays a woman who, despite all her bravado, has never been kissed. She's also a ball of energy as a woman who wants to break up with her boyfriend because he doesn't seem ready to get married, even though they've been together for 11 years. In the opening scene, "Her Heart," Damato is poignant and touching as a woman who travels all the way to Maine to see the northern lights. (She's been told that the lights are "the torches the newly departed carry with them to find their way to heaven.")

John-Patrick Driscoll plays a man who feels no pain and keeps lists of things that give pain and things he should fear. In "Where it Went" he plays a misunderstood husband who can't figure out where he stands in his marriage, and in "Seeing the Thing," a man who wants to tell a female friend he loves her.

Max Schulman's funny as a guy comparing "the baddest date of all time" with his buddy, and befuddled as a guy who's girlfriend breaks up with him and demands he return all the love she gave him over the years. And in another scene Schulman's perfectly heart-wrenching as a guy running into his ex at a bar. It's obvious he still isn't over her.

Deanna Gibson plays his ex-girlfriend, uncomfortable and awkward when she bumps into him. Yet, in a later scene ("Story of Hope") the tables are turned, and she plays a woman returning, years later, to the man who proposed to her. Like a young Carol Burnett, Gibson adeptly mixes vulnerability with humor.

And Rachael Endrizzi and Rob Hagle portray a young couple watching the northern lights; their story runs through the show. Their hopes and apprehensions are written on their faces as they try to negotiate their feelings for each other.

This sextet of actors is perfect for this understated, little gem of a play, and director Chris Clavelli has coaxed performances that are touching, humorous, and totally believable, despite the magic realism of the script.

These actors portray the various emotions and hues of love: the fear and excitement of first love, not knowing whether your love will be reciprocated or what will happen; the soul-crushing pain of lost love; the bewilderment and anger that accompanies a relationship that's run off-track; the romantic love that springs from an alreadysolid friendship.

Playwright Cariani and the cast at Florida Rep have recreated the tenderness and uncertainty that accompanies love, leading the audience by the hand through a number of different stories. You can't help but fall in love with the characters.

It's amazing that this is Cariani's first play.

He's said that while writing he was influenced by a quote from Carlos Santana: "There's nothing more powerful than innocence. If you get stale or bored, remember what it was like the first time you held hands with someone who changed your molecular structure." That's what watching this play is like: holding hands for the first time with someone you love.

Set designer Bruce R. Bailey created a simple, minimalist set: a snow-covered stage with a night sky filled with stars and Northern Lights. With a few select props, the scenes change from indoors to outdoors. The beautiful bareness of the set echoes the landscape of inland Maine. (As Damato says in one scene, looking around, "It feels like the end of the world...There's a lot of sky here.")

"Almost, Maine" tugs at your heartstrings but also tickles your funny bone. It's moving without being manipulative and sweet without being cloying.

Florida Rep once again has another hit.