In his solo performance piece Essential Personnel, Al Letson portrays everyday folk who make up what he calls "these sometimes United States of America."

All of these particular personnel are men, and most are in some degree of extremis. There's a Desert Storm veteran suffering from gulf war syndrome ("not sick enough for benefits, but too sick for a government job"); a Hispanic cop; a house painter being interrogated about his father-in-law's questionable death; an incarcerated Black Panther; the public information officer for the Texas Department of Corrections; and, in the show's one journey back in time, a slave in the Middle Passage.

A spoken-word artist who has taken top prizes at several National Poetry Slams, Letson has a talent for smooth turns-of-phrase - "overcome by memories of an event that never even happened," is an evocative example.

But Letson's acting ability is the real revelation of this show, directed by Barbara Williams and running at the Theatre Project. Just watch this affable young performer transform himself from the proud Hispanic policeman under investigation for, as he claims, "doing my job," to the 65-year-old Texas prisons press officer, a man who says he has witnessed 234 executions.

While the cop is too charged up to stay seated, the press officer remains frozen in his folding chair. Letson's shoulders become slightly stooped; his voice sounds tired and every now and then he rubs a persistent ache in his side. All of this is as subtle as the minor clothing changes Letson makes to indicate each character - a suit coat here, a knit shirt there, no shirt at all for the shackled slave.

Though most of the show's segments are prose character vignettes, Letson also includes a few samples of poetry. The evening begins and ends with DJ-influenced verses, and one of the high points is Letson's slam-winning poem "Second Planet from the Sun." A salute to tennis star Venus Williams that starts with a bit of break dancing, the piece concludes with Letson advising his baby daughter, "And if they ever tell you, baby,/'You're playing like a girl,'/ be proud./And know that you will win like a woman."

The DJ motif doesn't merely frame the performance. Recorded interludes, scattered throughout, feature a DJ at a radio station with the overtly inspirational call letters "WTRU." He introduces records and guests, talks to a caller, and at one point lists the last-meal requests of a series of death row inmates.

A few vignettes would benefit from editing - especially the one about the house painter, an easygoing fellow who tells his police interrogators, "I ain't stupid. I watch TV," and proceeds to demonstrate his knowledge with repeated references to Law & Order. After a while this overly long segment begins to feel a little too much like a scene from a TV drama.

And, though the production values are limited, a rare instance of overstatement comes when red lights are used to illuminate the Desert Storm veteran's description of a bloody battle. With another war looming in the Middle East, there's already plenty of power in this character's anguished realization: "We were there for oil, period. People are dying for oil."

Lighting effects aside, Letson's tempered performance sets him apart from many of his fellow male performance artists, who tend to rant and rave. Whether he's portraying a convicted criminal or the soldier who reluctantly learns the meaning of "kill or be killed," there's an element of tenderness in his characters.

You can tell that each of these "essential personnel" started out as a decent guy, trying to make his way in an often unforgiving world. Letson imbues them all with a quiet dignity that demonstrates one of the show's central themes - respect for the individual.

Essential Personnel

Where: Theatre Project, 45 W. Preston St.

When: 8 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays, 3 p.m. Sundays. Through Nov. 24

Tickets: $15

Call: 410-752-8558