Thornton Wilder’s drama Our Town begins at 5:45 am on a spring morning in Grovers Corners, New Hampshire, a churchy and imaginary farm town (Pop. 2,642) located somewhere near Mount Manadnock. Or, more accurately, it begins on a stage, one where the townspeople go about their day, or not, based on the whims of an omniscient Stage Manager. There’s a lot of talk about birds — “Every day I go to school dressed like a sick turkey,” moans one character —and an absence of culture. It’s the sort of xenophobic hellscape where the town doctor won’t take a vacation for fear of liking it too much, and next-door neighbors get married for lack of better options. Written during the Great Depression but set a few decades before that, the outwardly folksy play has endured in American theatre partly because it’s easy to produce. Minimal sets and costumes, combined with a giant cast of speaking roles, make this one a mainstay for high schools and community theater companies. Vince Petronio holds this particular version together as a charismatic but slightly sinister Stage Manager, while Andrew Iacovelli and Valerie Westgate are charming the town’s young lovers, gamely marching to a climax that left the lady in front of me weeping.