By David French. Directed by Michael Fera. A Hoarse Raven Theatre production. At the Jericho Arts Centre on Thursday, July 16. Continues until August 1

First produced in 1984, David French’s Salt-Water Moon has become a classic of the Canadian repertoire. It’s also boring—very boring—even in this handsome production from Hoarse Raven Theatre.

There’s zero suspense about how this romantic two-hander will turn out: the guy will get his way. It’s 1926, and 18-year-old Jacob Mercer has just returned to the Newfoundland outport where he grew up. A year earlier, he left without saying goodbye to his sweetheart, Mary Snow, who has since become engaged to the local schoolteacher, Jerome Mackenzie. Jacob’s goal is to win Mary back. We know he will. There’s nobody else on-stage, for one thing. Besides, French paints Jacob as a blarney-talking charmer and informs us, through the young swain’s own voice, that Mary wants her old boyfriend back so much she trembles when he comes near. From the first beat, it’s clear Mary’s a goner. And so are we for about the next 80 minutes.

The most annoying thing about the script is that it assumes we’ll cheer Jacob on. Buying into the play requires accepting the idea that Jacob is the man Mary should wed. To shove us deeper into alignment with this young man’s agenda, French manipulates issues of class as well as using reactionary definitions of gender. In one of the script’s endless pieces of historical in-fill, Jacob reminds Mary that Jerome’s relatively wealthy father humiliated Jacob’s impoverished fisherman dad, who was a temporary employee. In a patriotic speech about the Battle of the Somme, Jacob argues that this was particularly unfair because his father fought bravely—he was a real man—while Jerome’s father didn’t even enlist. Jacob characterizes Jerome as a pathetic intellectual, and mocks the idea that he might be sexually potent.

Mary pursues her own agenda: whatever man she hooks up with must agree to rescue her sister from the home for children where she lives. Mostly, however, Mary is a relatively passive object that Jacob will inevitably win.

Salt-Water Moon is a tough piece to perform but, under Michael Fera’s restrained direction, Abby Renee Creek positively glows as Mary. Never overtly theatrical, she listens extraordinarily well. She reveals her character in stillness—including Mary’s attentiveness when Jacob offers her a gift of stockings. As a result, Creek’s Mary feels like the salt of the earth, which is exactly right.

Joel Grinke also does a solid job as Jacob. He’s got the accent and most of the charm, but for the play to really work, the character would have to be more charismatic than Jesus Christ.

These artists lavish their skillful attention on a script that feels like a sentimental piece of folk art.