While Moss Hart and George S. Kaufman's "You Can't Take It With You," the Arizona Repertory Theatre's summer production, inundates audiences with a ration of good-natured farce and tomfoolery, its carpe diem thematic element and concomitant love story fall flat.

This is not altogether due to the abilities of Hart and Kaufman, two American playwrights who had their heyday following the Depression, nor is it a measure of the Arizona Repertory Theatre and its usual consistency of talent. The play's triteness and lack of tension, rather, stem mainly from its story line, one that has been rehashed and "Hollywood-ized" over the past century.

"You Can't Take It With You" tells the familiar narrative of "boy meets girl from the wrong side of the tracks who is afraid her unique and downright bizarre family won't mesh with his refined and rich papa." Perhaps fresh and controversial for a theatergoer in the '30s, today's audience is all too acquainted with renditions of the "Romeo and Juliet" scenario. Stick a fork in this plot line and turn it over, because it is done. And it has been done before. Sometimes with a side of corn, sometimes a side of peas.

Hart and Kaufman's version involves the zany relations who comprise the Sycamore household, set in New York City in 1936. The Sycamores - an Addams Family-esque lot - are happy and content in their eccentricity. Grandpa Vanderhof refuses to believe in the income tax or any form of the Protestant work ethic; mother Penny expresses her artistic talents (or lack thereof) through writing and painting, simply because the tools of the media exist in the house; and father Paul, in cahoots with perpetual house guest Mr. De Pinna, ventures through the joys of gunpowder.

And all those who stumble across the Sycamore squall find themselves sucked into a vortex of fun and gaiety, never to return to the world which demands one dots his "i"s and crosses his "t"s.

For those looking in from without, the only seemingly "sane" kinsman is Alice, recently engaged to her boss' son, Tony - the product of an enduring Wall Street legacy. Of course, antics abound when the in-laws meet in a scene where Hart and Kaufman struggle to (and never quite) reach a comedic "critical mass."

An audience in the '30s probably found this play a bit outlandish, pushing the norms of impropriety. Alice, a young woman who works in an office, stays out until the wee hours of the morn with her gentleman caller; the Sycamore household itself consists only of play and excludes work; and the theme - "it's better to be happy than to be rich" - seems precarious in an era just crawling out of the depths of the Depression.

The playwrights' pandemonium borders between hilarity and heresy. Regardless, it is a reminder of all that is great about America, the (theoretical) melting pot of individuality, equality, and pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps success stories.

Despite all this, however, the play lacks a staying power found in works like those by Shakespeare or Ibsen, whose ingenious writing and profound themes transcend time periods and sometimes even cultures.

With regards to "You Can't Take It With You," the love affair between Alice and Tony is trite, lacks passion, and is overshadowed by the antics of the supporting characters. The farcical elements, provided almost solely by the Sycamore's house-servant Rheba and their daughter's Russian dance instructor, are amusing and entertaining. Dumber than a sack of hammers, even son-in-law Ed helps to carry the comedy. And the overdone "man in a dress" gag still manages to get a good guffaw.

Regardless of the familiarity to it all, and despite the play's want of depth, today's audiences will still enjoy this show. But don't search for anything below the surface - like the silver screen and modern television, "You Can't Take It With You" upholds the delusion that life's problems can be solved within the half hour.