The way you respond to "Wallace," Plan-B Theatre Company's world-premiere production, depends on your expectations.

If you want a straightforward, biographical portrait of authors Wallace Stegner and Wallace Thurman, the play will frustrate you. It unfolds as a series of snapshots from their lives, snatches of colorful cascading words and images that reinvent meaningful moments.

Like all memories, some are more vivid than others. For example, there's Stegner's description of a fishing trip with his father to Fish Lake, one of the few happy experiences they shared. Or there's Thurman's arrival by train in Harlem during the 1920s, his senses assaulted by the sights, smells, and sounds of the burgeoning new "world on wheels," ruled by "the power of the Almighty Word."

But other sections are flatter and less focused, and you wonder exactly where playwrights Debora Threedy and Jenifer Nii are going. Most problematic is the character of Stegner reading to us one of the writer's short stories, "The Colt." Although the story gives us an appreciation for Stegner's writing style and richly details a traumatic event from his Saskatchewan days, it goes on too long, and its overall significance remains unclear.

"Wallace" is a fusion, created by director Jerry Rapier, of two separate plays, "Where I Come From," Threedy's piece on Stegner; and "Fire!," Nii's portrait of Thurman. Early on, Stegner tells us that writers "break experience up into pieces, and you put them together in different combinations, and some are real and some are not," and both playwrights follow this precept, recounting some events and embellishing and embroidering others.

Both plays are eloquently written. Threedy focuses on the way Stegner's relationships shaped him and his writing: his hatred for an abusive father, devotion to his long-suffering mother, and eventual emotional rebirth through his love for his wife, Mary: "She gave me new eyes to see the West with."

Nii emphasizes Thurman's position as an outsider -- a "black pioneer in a strange white land" -- steadfastly searching and eventually finding a place to express his artistic voice in the Harlem Renaissance. Thurman's abiding symbol is fire: a flame that flares, flashes brilliance, then spends itself too soon.

Rapier has orchestrated the two plays into one dynamic unit, where the two actors -- Richard Scharine as Stegner and Carleton Bluford as Thurman -- occupy the stage separately and together, feeding off each other's energy.

The two performances are a study in contrast: Scharine's Stegner is philosophical and relaxed, almost laconic at times, confiding his reflections on his life and work as if we are old friends. Bluford is always in motion -- jumping on the table, prowling around the stage; his Thurman is intense and impassioned, caught up in the peaks and valleys of his life. Both actors completely understand and communicate their characters.

Cory Thorell's expressive lighting -- red for Thurman and white for Stegner -- differentiates scenes and highlights emotional transitions. With its bird calls and train noises, Cheryl Ann Cluff's subtle sound design supplies a strong sense of place.

"Wallace" is an insightful portrait of two writers who once called Salt Lake City home. Its dynamic direction, perceptive performances, and imaginative writing often make us overlook but can't completely overcome its dramatic limitations.

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