THEATER REVIEW:

There was a time when the Huntington Beach Playhouse (or at least a certain board member) would censor scripts before rehearsals started, eliminating any potentially offensive language.

That was about the period when “The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas” first hit the Broadway stage, and it’s taken some four decades for the show to put down roots in Huntington Beach.

What seems pretty mild today probably would have shocked the socks off the playhouse’s old regime. Now it’s simply entertainment, possibly a little dated, but a good deal of fun nevertheless.

The current production, under the direction of Larry Watts — who also choreographed and designed the costumes — is a lively, back-slapping, foot-stomping tribute to the fabled “Chicken Ranch” brothel that operated for half a century in a tiny Texas town, until the moral minority of the time had the place closed down.

The ranch’s proprietor, a onetime working girl up from the ranks known as Miss Mona, is a tough-skinned, tender-hearted lady played beautifully by Cate Conroy, who displays both facets of her personality skillfully. Her finest moment, however, comes in the show’s final scene when she warbles her poignant solo “The Bus From Amarillo.”

The familiar face of Michael J. Keeney pops up again, this time as the bull-headed sheriff determined to keep Miss Mona in business despite civic pressures. Keeney, as might be expected, is the show’s strongest element.

The TV “watchdog” who crusades against the Chicken Ranch is played with force and fury by Wade Wooldridge. James Greene is the blustering mayor, and Bob Goodwin is at his “Foghorn Leghorn” best as the senator who treats his Texas Aggies football team to a night at the ranch.

Two newcomers to the Chicken Ranch ranks are delightfully and enacted with contrast by Tricia Sullivan as the flashy, experienced hooker and Jessica Porter as the teenage neophyte dubbed “Shy.” Porter, only 15, holds her own quite nicely.

The show drags its feet only during a tempo-neutralizing scene in the local restaurant where the town fathers discuss the fate of the brothel. This segment does, however, feature a touching number, “Doatsy Mae,” from the waitress with that moniker, the marquee-clogging Sally Papacharalambous.

Another prime individual moment comes when Mona’s assistant, Jewel (Rebecca Hyrkas), belts out her plans for the evening in the sizzling solo “Twenty-Four Hours of Lovin.’” It’s a role probably originally designed for a black woman, but Hyrkas makes it her own.

Musical director Mike Walker heads up a country band (Joe McCollam, Holly Fischer, Ben Sieke and Emily Kilimnik) that keeps the show moving.

“The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas” may be a bit dated and quaint by today’s musical theater standards, but as a ‘70s satire on ‘50s morality, it hits the mark quite nicely.

TOM TITUS reviews local theater for the Independent.