Theater, no matter how hard we try, is nothing like life. It's amplified, focused, condensed and artificial. That's not to say we who craft it are unobliged to say anything about real life, but we needn't feel we must reproduce it photographically as if there were no audience members sharing the room with us. Some of the most magical, even meaningful drama approaches stories poetically, suggesting or evoking reality rather than pinning it down.

So it is with Pulp Productions' take on J. M. Barrie's Peter Pan. It's staged in a girder-laced, open-air volume inside the former Grizwold Building. Director Caroline Rose Silva has no way to hoist her lead performer, Julianna Kimbrell, off the deck, so Peter's flight must be suggested through the use of shadow puppets. Yet nothing about this production implies anyone was stinting on detail, imagination or effort. When Dylan Clifthorne enters on all fours as Nana, the Darlings' canine caregiver, it works. I didn't find myself missing an elaborate dog suit or marionette; rather, I smiled at the simplicity and charm of an actor at play.

It's traditional for productions of The Boy Who Wouldn't Grow Up to use the same actor who plays the Darlings' father as Peter's Never Land nemesis, Captain Hook. In this show, that actor plays Smee instead. Grace Halliday Miller, aka the Darlings' mother, wields the hook and dodges the reptile. I'm not sure how that casting decision alters the gender dynamics of the show, especially the Freudian undertones some commentators observe in it, but in practice it doesn't matter. This is a company that contemplates gender expectations, then weaves deep sociopolitical thoughts into the subtle background of what is, first and foremost, a captivating story. Gone are almost all the problematic representations of Native Americans, leaving only a fiercely independent Tiger Lily. And wait till you see how Silva stages the mermaid scene; it's creative and simple and memorably brilliant.

Cheyenne Logan, Pulp's Wendy, is quickly emerging as one of Olympia's most interesting young actors. In this show, she gets to show off a pleasant singing voice as well. Narrator Maddox Pratt holds our attention through a surprisingly word-happy script. This is a longish show for grown-ups, clocking in at over two hours and demanding an adult's concentration and patience. I do wish its English characters had English accents, but I also wonder how readily such accents could be made out in a noisy, downtown space. Bring a hoodie and blanket, perhaps a Thermos of cocoa (though the Reef seemed happy to oblige an inrush of shivering theatergoers at intermission). Then sit back and let an intriguing coalition of young artists sprinkle you with pixie dust. Second star on the right, then, and straight on till darkening dusk.

THE BOY WHO WOULDN'T GROW UP, 8 p.m. Saturday and Sunday through June 29, Pulp Productions at the Grizwold space, 310 4th Ave. E, Olympia, $5-$10, olypulp.wordpress.com