There's so much talent associated with the Asylum's "The Devil, the Damsel and the Demon Run" that you may find yourself ashamed of how bored you are while watching it.

The script, by the late Raymond Hull, is a musicalization of one of the most popular melodramas in American history, W.H. Smith's 1844 "The Drunkard" -- the one about the beautiful young woman and her hard-working mother who are about to lose their home due to the evil schemes of a nasty, ugly lawyer whose fashion sense is stuck on swirling black capes and sweeping, twirling mustaches.

Director Sarah O'Connell's biggest contribution is her casting. Crystal Eden is a genuinely sweet ingenue. Nancy Denton is a hilariously lovable yet morally challenged mother. When the two sing together, they make for a musical comedy lovers' dream.

And John Ivanoff is a deliciously twisted villain, a Ray Bolger look-alike who's so steeped in irresistible naughtiness that we deserve to be forgiven for wanting him to triumph.

Also noteworthy is Suzanna Yozgadlian, whose main job is to look pretty while changing the board signs that announce the story's locations. She surprises us late in the first act with a brief solo that reveals a legitimately trained lyric mezzo as technically proficient as emotionally powerful.

Unfortunately, the score, with lyrics by Hull and music by local composer Mike Corda is uninspired and laborious. Rather than illuminating the story and characters, it intrudes on them.

And O'Connell's over-the-top direction takes the fun out of the dialogue. The constant exaggerated poses and vocal inflections place too heavy a comment on the script. It might have been helpful if O'Connell had been able to suggest over-the-top instead of falling prey to it.

Michael Canales' piano playing and stage demeanor are both humorously exaggerated and surprisingly delicate. O'Connell's set makes us feel as if we're watching the show as an audience member in a late-19th century saloon. And Axis deBruyn's regal lighting provides a sharp, festive, elegant touch. He makes the stage consistently pleasing to the eye without overwhelming the action.

But the show's sledgehammer silliness is so one-note that 10 minutes into this 85-minute production (plus intermission), I yearned to be somewhere else.

Anthony Del Valle can be reached at DelValle@aol.com. You can write him c/o Las Vegas Review-Journal, P.O. Box 70, Las Vegas, NV 89125.