I know it's gauche to rely on national stereotypes, but golly, those Canadians sure are nice. Nice is all over Welfarewell, currently making its Northwest premiere at Olympia Little Theatre. Not only is the play harder to resist than a Snuggie full of kittens, but its author, Cat Delaney, wrote OLT a program note from Nova Scotia: "Big hugs!"...Theatre makes the world smaller and far more civilized." Awwww.

Delaney calls Welfarewell a "social satire." I call it liberal propaganda, and it gets a bit preachy toward the end. They should run it on a video loop at Occupy Wall Street events. I step lightly into spoiler country by saying that Welfarewell has the saddest opening scene of any comedy since Up. (Oh, that mailbox ... Damn you, Pixar!) We find our heroine, 80-year-old British expat Esmerelda Quipp, in an icy kitchen as her lights go out for nonpayment. She struggles to feed her cat, Merlin, her hands shaking so violently she can barely open the tin. Her story gets darker from there.

If this were America, Mrs. Quipp would freeze to death in a cardboard box. Luckily, she was clever enough to make her home in Toronto, where the entire criminal justice system rallies to assist her. Even Canadian jail time is better than poverty, so Quipp decides to rob a bank, waving ever so politely to security cameras in her crusade to move back into the slammer. It's adorable.

When I read the script a few months ago, I thought, "OLT may be in over its heads here." There are numerous scene changes, and the lead role must have been daunting to cast. Quipp has hundreds of lines, and because she's a retired actor, about half are obscure quotes from Shakespeare. To her and director Toni Holm's credit, Cassie Cahill nails every über-nice nuance of the role. Forget the curtain call, I wanted to buy her tea and biscuits at the end. This is one of the year's best performances, and it anchors the dozen-member ensemble. They seem as happy to watch Cahill work as we are.

Also faring well in Welfarewell are Priscilla Zal as H.B., a sympathetic cop, Ken Luce as a lawyer suffering from career burnout, and Karen Pitman as NPR's favorite judge. Courtney Taylor is incredibly charming in the role of a hooker with a heart of gold, a character so clichéd it's the cliché for clichés. An uncomfortable phrase or two aside, the caged prostitutes in this show are so congenial it begins to feel like a holiday episode of Barney Miller. The set layout is shrewdly arranged, though scene changes in Act II are both leisurely and understaffed. The song choices for transitions are amusing throughout.

None of the jokes are side-splitters, as they're too innocuous to land with intensity. But perhaps that's all for the best in a "comedy" about the rigors of old age and poverty, which should aim and does for our soft gushy centers. Quipp bemoans the fact that her wits haven't dimmed enough to be oblivious to her own suffering. But if that sounds too depressing for words, relax, eh? All's well that ends Welfarewell. In a thoroughly unsurprising turn of events, the liberal authorities get all deus ex machina on our heinies, and neither Mrs. Quipp nor her sex-worker associates die in squatters' dens. In Canada, that just wouldn't be allowed. Also, there's hugging at the end. Awwww.

Sorry, America, land of my birth. When I turn 80, I'm moving to Vancouver.

Welfarewell

Through Nov. 20, 7:55 p.m. Thursday-Saturday
1:55 p.m. Sunday, $10-$14
Olympia Little Theatre, 1925 Miller Ave. NE, Olympia
360.786.9484