The Gem Theatre returns to the Late-Nite Catechism series for another round with Sister's Easter Catechism: Will My Bunny Go to Heaven? Unlike the previous installments, the current production is notable for being a world premiere, opening simultaneously in several cities just in time for Lent. Bolstering favorite gags and premises with new content, this production sticks to its greatest hits, but a solid performance by Sister (each of whom is certainly unique) and the variability afforded by the famous audience-participation element ensure the show feels like more than same schtick, different holiday.

Any viewer familiar with the series will recognize the components and beats of this newest installment; writer/creator Maripat Donovan and cowriter Marc Sylvia have found a formula that works for the premise. The first act is a blend of anecdotal remembrance of Easters past and Catholic restrictions on meat consumption, with requisite blasts of Vatican II: Sister sure loved the good old days. Nonie Breen's approach to Sister has curmudgeonly roots, but gets ever saltier the closer her ridicule gets to the mother lode. By the time she gets to describing the Stations of the Cross, her sly digs and chipper jokes about the scripture are happily unexpected and deliriously fun. The other material, including the thorny title issue of pets and their welcomeness through the pearly gates, works well enough on its own merits, but it remains the side dish to the Easter ham that is a nun jazzing up Biblical lore with subversive irreverence.

The Late Nite Catechism series is a nineteen-year-old Chicago-born institution that has been adamantly adopted nationwide. Not only has the show employed and cultivated a formidable bullpen of actor/improvisers to bring Sister to the masses, but many Sisters can perform more than one of its several editions at will. To wit, fresh off her run in Sister's Christmas Catechism at the Century Theatre, Mary Zentmyer has taken up residence at the adjacent Gem Theatre for a romantically themed lesson in Maripat Donovan's 'Til Death Do Us Part: Late Nite Catechism 3. That's some parlor trick, and the current production makes for a welcome extension of Zentmyer's stay in Detroit.

Ingeniously, this Sister manages to feel authentic without buying into the trope that nuns are comic by virtue of being humorless. The character is indeed strict, whipping out hankies to force modesty on female audience members and deftly coaching the audience to respond in unison with the proper obedience due a schoolteacher. Yet Zentmyer also delights in her work, getting a kick out of her own corny jokes and reacting generously when something funny occurs. Clearly an old hand at the scripted beats of the show, she's comfortable indulging in some small tangents, and viewers who watch closely may glimpse the split-second thought process in which she invents razor-sharp zingers about the strangest audience responses.

Although most of the things that terrified us as children aren't worth revisiting, the popularity of the Late Night Catechism franchise is proof positive that adults sure do love to get scolded by nuns. The latest southeast Michigan installment is Century Theatre's Sister's Christmas Catechism (by Maripat Donovan with Jane Morris and Marc Silvia), a holiday flavor of the very familiar framework. With well-seasoned Catechism star Mary Zentmyer and director Marc Silvia, this comedy takes the concept of putting the Christ in Christmas and turns it on its head.

All nuns are not created equal, and what keeps the show dynamic and fresh is seeing the different takes on Sister in action. Zentmyer, a near-fifteen-year veteran, has crafted a hilarious and multidimensional character in her almost-saucy, eclectic Sister, cracking jokes and acting the ham as she reads the story of the virgin Mary aloud. Although no stranger to resorting to punitive measures to keep order in her class, Zentmyer's Sister is engaging and personable, the kind of teacher students might remember as the goofy one, but revere nonetheless. It's a sly twist on the imposing-nun stereotype that started the franchise in the first place, yet no less effective or funny.

It happens to every Christmas fanatic, great and small — from time to time, the repetition of those classic stories and songs wears on us. Forever Plaid creator Stuart Ross obviously gets it, and his holiday follow-up, Plaid Tidings, offers a refreshing middle ground: just the right combination of spiced-up musical innovation, holiday and otherwise, mingling with familiar fireside comfort. Enjoyable theater and enjoyable holiday show don't always go hand in hand, but this spirited Gem Theatre production, directed by Mark Martino, has a handle on both.

Viewers like me who haven't seen the original are helpfully caught up by introductory narration and thickly spread exposition by the guys. The mythology behind Forever Plaid holds that the semi-professional singing quartet of the same name, tragically killed in a 1964 auto accident, is granted one reprieve to perform a final show on Earth — which, let's face it, doesn't exactly leave room for a sequel. Accordingly, here the Plaid lads are deposited at the theater with little fanfare and less understanding of their journey's purpose, but they decide to just start singing until they stumble upon and accomplish their true mission. Any viewer sharp enough to note the play title knows where this is leading, but although the characters take most of the first act to catch up, there's enough going on to extend the viewer's patience. More importantly, the group's energetic, joyous take on the Christmas theme is well worth the wait.

Women and their expectations; men and their shortcomings. Writer and performer Robert Dubac uses an elaborate allegory to repackage this well-worn material into The Male Intellect: An Oxymoron?, now at the Century Theatre.

The show's composition is commendable, making use of a number of layers and frameworks. The reality facing Robert the character is that his fiancée has asked for two weeks' time apart; with their relationship clearly in jeopardy, he needs to determine what she wants to hear before she calls. On stage, as the final minutes of the two weeks run out, Dubac reveals an inner struggle between the left and right hemispheres of the brain (oversimplified as the "male" and "female" halves) as he attempts to tap into his feminine side. He also portrays a handful of characters, all men from Robert's past, to help explain the origins of his flawed understanding of women.

For all its promotional material about cotton candy–colored dresses, the Gem Theatre's production of The Marvelous Wonderettes is actually quite analogous to a confection. The dancing and singing are a treat to see and hear, thanks to a talented cast and the best set I've ever seen at the Gem. The music is catchy and familiar, and jokes and sight gags keep the audience sated. However, underneath this sweet soundtrack lurk empty calories in the form of a wafer-thin premise.

Obviously the plot is not the selling point, but what keeps the show from being billed as a concert is the story and characters, so these elements invite dissection. The story — what little exists — is lame. Creator Roger Bean introduces us to the dimwitted one (why, yes, she is a blonde), the vampy attention hog, the bossy mousy one (glasses? check), and...the Ethel. Each girl is distinguished by her dress color better than she is by her name: just call 'em Blue, Pink, Orange, and Green.

In the shadow of the lady-quartet musical in the larger space next door, Defending the Caveman enjoys far more modest surroundings. Booking these shows together is an interesting exercise — it's almost as though the glossy Who-ville is incomplete without a Grinch grumbling in his cave on Mt. Crumpet. Yet however amusing, such comparison belies the curious warmth of this one-man show currently in rotation at the Century Theatre.

The short two-act play begins with a wordless video montage, a series of vignettes featuring performer Ben Tedder and his wife. Its content correctly predicts that the show is not about to break new ground in its exploration of the sexes: Man like grill. Woman like shop. Like much of the subject matter covered, the video is cute but predictable. The Rob Becker–penned script puts forward, amid a bare setting generously inspired by cave paintings and the Flintstones, the theory that men and women are still rooted in our hunter-gatherer pasts. As hunters, men focus on one thing (spoiler: it's TV) to the exclusion of anything else; as gatherers, women collect information on their surroundings and make it their business to be aware of everything. It's almost as if men were from Mars, and women from Venus! Given a topic that's been done to death, the production counts on Tedder's performance to sell it, and he wins over the audience with ease.

A Forbidden Broadway Christmas springs from the Forbidden Broadway mold; if the original was successful, why shouldn't they make money off a Christmas-themed sequel? It's the very kind of business decision creator/writer Gerard Alessandrini would have mocked, had he not made it himself. In its third year at the Gem Theatre, this bastard child of the Broadway machine features spectacular voices paying homage to the genre, even as it bites back with literal and figurative Grinchiness.

The bread and butter of this cabaret-style production is the tunes, favorites spanning decades of Broadway history. Some songs are paired with their respective shows, as in an extended Les Miserables medley, but more unexpected and creative choices are revealed when, for example, Gypsy's "You Gotta Get a Gimmick" is reworded to address the industry's recent puppetry fad. Topics range from Christmas to the economy to more specific barbs aimed at Broadway's producers and divas, but you don't have to know who Cameron Mackintosh is (trust me, I didn't) to appreciate a song about the merchandising craze. Over the course of its two hours, the show does run a few concepts into the ground — yes, okay, Disney is everywhere! — but overall there is a decent balance of Christmas-specific parody along with the Broadway commentary, plus a hefty dose of riotous celebrity impressions for impressions' sake. The material is strong enough that I didn't mind the repetition, and each number offers something that the others don't.