Last June, Arden Theatre’s Terry Nolen directed a production of Sondheim’s Into the Woods that was a revelation. I saw the show, a work that I’ve always had mixed feelings about, in a new light. It was Nolen’s second version of Into the Woods at the Arden—radically different from his first—and for me, transformative.

So I was very intrigued to see what Nolen’s second go-‘round with Assassins—another Sondheim musical I have trouble with—would look like. Would lightening strike again?

Yes and no.

This is indeed a completely different take on the piece, with a wonderfully ramshackle set (by Paige Hathaway) that has an abandoned, sinister feeling. From the start, Nolen and company insert some resonant current references (I won’t say more lest I spoil the effect). Much of the time, this is a bold, masterful staging full of invention. In many scenes, the tone is lighter and more overtly comedic than I’ve seen previously. Though the setting is indeterminate, there is a “backstage” feeling to much of it, which includes an ironic sense of good-natured community among the group.

It’s a case of gains and losses. In places, the humor actually sharpens the shock value. But elsewhere, the bonhomie undercuts the necessary sense that, while these outcasts share the infamy of their goals, each is very much loner, emotionally dwelling in isolation.

The ensemble cast achieves exactly that—a sense of ensemble—which is all to the good. There are standouts among them: the vocal honors go to Robi Hager and Katherine Fried; the most powerful and poignant acting from Christopher Patrick Mullen.

It is certainly a cohesive production, one that I think builds considerably on the Arden’s earlier version. And yet, I couldn’t really get into it.

My unsolvable Assassins problem is with the show itself, which I find weaker and more objectionable with each production, no matter how well directed and performed. It’s a work that begins with a provocative, audacious idea, but never delivers the necessary insight.

Assassins needs more Sondheim and less John Weidman. The music and lyrics have moments of brilliance, but they feel underdeveloped—I think it’s Sondheim’s shortest, and one longs for virtually every number to have more build and complexity.

By contrast, John Weidman’s book goes on at tiresome length, and his apercus are embarrassingly sophomoric. The final scene, where John Wilkes Booth exhorts Lee Harvey Oswald to kill Kennedy and achieve lasting notoriety is cringe-worthy. Some may be offended by Assassins in concept, but I’m not. Quite the contrary: I think it’s fascinating idea that doesn’t go far enough.

But I’m very glad we’re at a point where Nolen and the Arden are revisiting Sondheim’s canon in new productions. The gains here are considerable.