What a welcome difference a decade can make.  When Stop Kiss debuted at New York's Joseph Papp Public Theater in 1998, CurtainUp praised it as "thoroughly modern."  Only half a generation later, it strikes me as almost thoroughly dated, a grim reminder of a more homophobic time.  Stage artists tend to frown on reviews that focus on textual rather than production elements, but it can't be avoided this time:  My issues with Prodigal Sun's revival of Stop Kiss derive almost entirely from the intent and relevance of its script.

Of course I know homophobia persists.  Like many native Californians, I was appalled by Proposition 8 and hope to see it struck down sooner rather than later.  I know antigay hate crimes occur all too frequently, even in major cities.  Yet it's also clear that gay people in 2010 come out into a much more welcoming world than ever existed before in American history.  So when a play seeks to persuade me that lesbians are people, too, and that no one deserves to be beaten into a coma for falling in love with a person of the same gender, I can't help feeling this play is preaching to the choir.  This is especially true in theatre circles.  American theatre and its audiences have long been safe havens for the gay and gay-friendly.  A few obnoxious relics aside, we get it.

We artists often flatter ourselves by insisting our biggest triumph has been, not entertainment, but social change.  Well, bullshit.  For all their relative strengths, Angels in America, Rent, and Stop Kiss persuaded few homophobes, especially violent gay-bashers, to change their minds and hearts.  We'd contribute more to the righteous cause of acceptance simply by including gay characters - presenting them, not as the focus of attention or a problem to be solved or a cause to get fired up about, but as ordinary, everyday people.  That's what drives haters bughouse.  The day a summer blockbuster presents the adventures of a gay action hero without commenting on that trait will be the day lasting change is upon us.

Prodigal's version of Stop Kiss is a perfectly worthy production, but don't expect sociopolitical revelations.  The nonlinear structure exemplifies 1990s-era feminist narrative theory.  Raychel Wagner is charmingly relatable as Callie, our historically hetero protagonist, as she finds herself falling for Sara, another hetero woman.  Wagner shows particular confidence in scenes with Brian Jansen, who's back in fine, loose form as Callie's "friend with benefits."  Jon Tallman brings welcome edge and dimension to Peter, a man who's still in love with Sara, and his set design makes outstanding use of the Midnight Sun's minuscule performance space.  Playwright Diana Son, a staff writer for The West Wing and Law & Order:  Criminal Intent, fills her play with natural, casual dialogue.  I do wish the laughs had been bigger, though, if only to provide richer counterpoint to a somber outcome.

The bottom line for me is that halfway through Stop Kiss, I found myself confused by a mention of NYPD Blue, a show that went off the air in 2005.  Directors usually update references like that, and I was already baffled by the play's seeming disconnection from contemporary thought. 

"Set in modern day New York City," the program assured me, but I remain unconvinced.

[Prodigal Sun -The Midnight Sun Performance Space, Stop Kiss, through Feb. 27, 8 p.m. Thursday - Sunday, $12, 113 N. Columbia St., Olympia, prodigalsunproductions.org, 360.250.2721]