MARSHALL, Mich.–The titular undergarments in Nana’s Naughty Knickers, the light-hearted sit-com-like farce currently on offer at Cornwell’s Dinner Theatre in here, are more silly than they are risqué, and naughty only because they’re traded under the table. However, they are lovingly “designed with senior citizens in mind.”

This seems to work just fine, and a recent matinee audience showed utter delight in response to this production that followed an excellent, hearty country-style turkey dinner.

The actual name of this tax-evading business slinging lingerie for the over-65 set is “Saucy Slips, etc.” and the brains behind it is Sylvia Charles, an 83-year-old widow who worked for Maidenform during World War II. For 60 years, she’s held steady in her rent-controlled Manhattan apartment that’s “pimped out” with prohibition-era hidden compartments—behind the bookcase and fireplace, etc.—where she displays the glittery, satiny, animal print, lacy “nighties” in secret. She’s the kind of Grandma who calls her granddaughter Bridget nicknames–from cornflake to pumpkin seed and every baked good in between, though she doesn’t knit or bake. She declares that “an old woman is entitled to her oddities.”

When Bridget discovers her Nana is day drinking, burning cookies, and carrying on with this illegal enterprise, she pitches a fit and yet somehow manages to get entangled in the inevitable shenanigans involving the Dudley-Do-Right neighborhood beat cop, the sinister landlord, the goofy hard-of-hearing best friend, and the new hire—dressed like a sex worker—who unwittingly blows the lid off the whole scheme.

The result is like a long G-rated episode of The Golden Girls without the smart writing and snarky gay sensibility. And yet, with its sight gags and bathroom humor, it earns some chuckles.

Director Dennis McKee’s vision appears to border on the cartoonish. One expects boi-oi-oi-oi-oing sound effects with every wide-eyed head swivel of R.J. Magee’s cop Tom O’Grady, and Stephen Lambert’s permanently bent elbows, balled fists, and shrugged shoulders combined with his evil bad guy voice and cadence make him more like a Scooby Doo villain who declares, “If it weren’t for those pesky kids . . . “ than an actual human. In fairness, part of this is the writing, which makes these characters speak in unnatural ways.

However, Donna Schulte is adorable as the clueless hard-of-hearing funny best friend, and is utterly convincing as this stereotype. Her physical comedy and timing are wonderful. When she says things such as “Darn tootin’!” it seems natural. Her interaction with Barbi McGuire as Sylvia are far and above the highlights of the show. McGuire is far too spry to be 83, but then again, that’s how the character is written. She’s likable and real even if her circumstances are over the top.

A negligee with bra cups more like slings that hang below the waist, especially when carrying pieces of fruit, gets the biggest laughs of the show, and Nicole Tompkins captures the angst of a young woman trying to rein in an out-of-control situation. She’s the fuddy duddy among the old biddies, and she plays this predictable role well.

Anna Modic Bradley, surprisingly, is the only performer on stage to attempt any variety of accent from The City, and she energizes the show as it begins to tire in the final act.

The set, with its trick doors and tacky interior design is both fun and functional, and McKee’s blocking keeps the action moving and the visuals lively. Except for Walters’ negligee that looks more like a blood-red satin clown suit, Susan Frook’s costume designs are festive and appropriate.

For a certain crowd, this show is simply good, clean fun. For the rest of us, it falls short of being truly worthwhile theatre, though it does, at times, elicit a genuine giggle or two. The turkey is terrific.

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