At The Acting Company's matinee performance of "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof" last Sunday, the "Cat" didn't go on the roof so much as through it, judging by the decibels expended.

The cast provided bravura performances, that should be noted.

Actors Staci Johnson, Ray Newland, Foster Campbell and Daniel Clark each gave star turns as Maggie, Brick, Big Mama and Big Daddy, respectively.

Ray Newland did as much with the leading male character of "Brick" as could be expected, inasmuch as playwright Tennessee Williams gave him about as many words to say in the first act as a Downeast farmer might waste on a fool tourist asking the way to Bangor.

Still, Newland overcame the handicap to reveal the troubled character's central message: passive drinking may trump active failing in course of a normal day, but only a cad would leave his to the mercy of a pack of avaricious Southern hyenas.

Which brings us to the subject of high volume and howling dogs.

The sole fault to be found with this exceptional production is the amount of shouting and shrieking that goes on in it.. Everyone seemed to go through the roof whenever a dispute arose.

But volume is not the only dial on the emotional radio.

This problem, however, may not be of the cast's own making. Author Tennessee William was a savvy showman who learned early on that shock was a fungible commodity on Broadway.

He laid the scenes so they all led to dramatic confrontations, and very few actors could escape going that way.

Staci Johnson was no Elizabeth Taylor (who played "Maggie" the "Cat" opposite Paul Newman's "Brick" in the movie version of the play) -- she was better. Better, in the sense that she was able to get the whole demanding script and role down in her head and execute it straight through for two-plus hours, apparently flawlessly.

She brought Maggie to life, along with herr consuming concerns, which seemed to revolve around sex and death, death and sex, sex and money, money and sex, sex and sex, and, oh yeah, love.

And all this done before an audience whose members were likely to remember these conceots,if only nostalgically.

Johnson's accomplishments were, in short, just shy of momentous.

Campbell's Big Mama was standout. Her's wasn't the biggest role in the play, but it was substantial and it gave her a decent platform from which to create a g, true, but it was large enough to give her the scope she needed to create a character, and that she did.

She also put together for herself the single best costume in the show. A "lady in diamonds" was what Big Daddy called her.

Clark did a remarkably good "Big Daddy," although he would periodically snag up on lines. At first, it sounded as if he'd simply forgotten where he was, but on closer examination, it seemed he might have a slight speech tick.

In the end, it became impossible to know if he had a problem, or only created one to add soul to the Big Daddy character.Either way, it turned out fine and Clark got one of the biggest hand from an all but full house.

There were no poor performances in this classic Pat Hill directed drama. All the actors came through for the audience.

They all did admirably.

There was one stray item worth mentioning and that Newland apparently has never been drunk. It was difficult to keep an acccurate tally of Brick's frequent trips to "Echo Springs," the cue name he and Maggie had given to the liquor cabinet in their bedroom.

However, based on a rough approximation and some ancillary evidence as to how many empty fifths (four altogether) that were disposed of in the course of the play, it appears he downed at least two and a half quarts of Ol' Mr. Snagglefoot from curtain up to curtain down. That is to say, enough to render a grown man comatose on even his best of nights, much less the day after suffering a broken leg. Nonetheless, Brick remained bright-eyed and articulate until the end.

This Herculean sobriety did not add to the play's verisimiltude.

Moreover, the stage booze in "Cat" came out of dark brown bottles, suggesting whiskey, bourbon or Southern Comfort. Yet when Brick poured it into a glass, it was perfectly clear, suggesting vodka, gin, tequila or mescal.

It is an old stage trick to substitute light brown tea for whiskey, and the propertymen might want to keep that in mind next time.

And the next time Newland plays a heavy drinker, he might consider throwing in a slurred word or two after consuming the first quart and perhaps proposing marriage to the little old lady selling flowers in the bar after the second quart.

Now that would be verisimiltude.