I grew up as a Jehovah's Witness, so my family didn't celebrate holidays. I wasn't obliged to sit though two-hour saccharine overdoses about the true meaning of Christmas. In retrospect, perhaps that wasn't so awful.

See, Nuncrackers presents me with a dilemma. I hated it. I really, really hated it. You might not. That's on your conscience. It's as cheesy as a Paula Deen lasagna. If I were a film critic, and had to sit through Battleship, I'd tee off on it like Tiger Woods on a liter of Red Bull. I'd have that privilege, because I wouldn't know anyone involved with the project, and there'd be no repercussions for venting my grievances against it. No one would leap to the defense of a board-game movie. But everyone loves Christmas, right? And everyone loves director Heidi Fredericks. I'm fond of her myself. She's done amazing work, a lot of it, in recent years. This script just wasn't salvageable. I could see its cast and crew attempting valiantly to make it work - I mean, frantically trying - but it made the Griswolds' Christmas lights look restrained by comparison.

I'd never seen Nunsense or any of its myriad sequels before. Are they all this obnoxious? Is this something Christians like? It had the same brain-dead humor as a Branson revue or Jeff Dunham routine. Lest you think I'm too harsh, here's a typical setup and joke: "We may not have drinking, but we sure have plenty of mixed nuts!" Rim shot! You get it? They're not really talking about nuts in a bowl! They're talking about crazy people! Oh, my stars!

I assure you, my vitriol isn't personal. I give credit to Patrick Wigren, whose game face is on throughout this endeavor. His two minutes riffing on a rum-soaked Julia Child is the show's highlight, by which I mean the only two minutes I wouldn't rather have been shopping on Black Friday. Bruce Haasl's set is pretty as always, though its connection to the play is vague at best.

The script's as devoid of plot as it is of wit. The songs are atrocious and mostly get the singing they deserve. In one treacly ballad, a father with no cash to spend gives his child the Christmas present of a box full ... of love. That's the song - crooned, of course, at an earnest little girl. I'm pretty sure that qualifies as abuse.

One last thing: I know local audiences, Capital Playhouse's in particular, are undemanding. But please, for the love of all that's decent and true, can we please come back to our senses about standing ovations in Olympia? They don't mean, "My kid is in this show." They mean you saw exceptional work deserving more than the usual minute of clapping. It's the equivalent of "A+," not, as my wife said, "O for effort." That's an old joke, too, but it's funnier than anything in Nuncrackers.

CAPITAL PLAYHOUSE, NUNCRACKERS, THROUGH DEC. 16, 7:30 P.M. WEDNESDAY-SATURDAY, 2 P.M. SUNDAY, $28-$39, 612 FOURTH AVE. E., OLYMPIA, 360.943.2744