When a woman loves a man, he can spin magic out of nothing and make her believe anything he says.

Take a scene early in The Actors’ Group production of "Seven Guitars," in which Floyd "Schoolboy" Barton (Khem M. Shepsutera) is trying to convince Vera (Reshawn Fields), the woman he dumped for another woman when he took off for Chicago more than a year earlier, to give him another chance.

The actors play it beautifully. Shepsutera sounds so contrite and sincere. Fields’ tightly pursed lips soften into a smile, and her eyes begin to shine with joyful naivete.

Yes, Vera is falling under Floyd’s spell again.

The year is 1948. Floyd, an illiterate blues guitarist, is trying to get his life back together after doing 90 days in a workhouse on trumped-up vagrancy charges. His first recording, made in Chicago more than a year before, is now a hit. The record label wants him to return and make more recordings, but his musicians are wary. One says the label is ripping them off. Another pawned his drums while Floyd was behind bars.

Floyd’s guitar is in hock as well. Scraping together the money to redeem the guitar and drums is the first step in returning to Chicago and a shot at success — but getting the money seems almost impossible.

Playwright August Wilson presents a familiar picture of the African-American underclass in this Tony- and Pulitzer Prize-nominated play that was first produced on Broadway in 1996.

Floyd and drummer Red (played with cunning charisma by Marc Cooper) are easily distracted by any woman who passes their way. Derrick Brown, as Hedley, seethes with justifiable rage as the unstable Jamaican black nationalist whose skill at killing chickens sets him apart from the others. Canewell (Roderick Green) is in love with Vera, but with Floyd back on the scene, his feelings for her are no longer reciprocated.

The men in Wilson’s plays always have plenty to talk about, and Floyd, Red and Canewell are no exception. All three have pithy one-liners that neatly define the nature of life in general and the experiences of 20th-century African-Americans in particular.

"Chicago is what you make it," says one. "A black man ain’t never had his druthers," says another.

Fields is a delightful find in her TAG debut. TAG veteran Lillian M. Jones adds dramatic punch with her vivid portrayal of Louise, a strong black woman who apparently never looked back after her man took off for places unknown. Terry Brookhart plays Louise’s niece, a sexually provocative woman who has come up from Mississippi after one of her boyfriends killed one of her other suitors.

Director Frankie Enos also gets good work from the technical crew. Greg Howell (hair and wig design) does a commendable job in getting the actors into wigs that represent the hairstyles of the era. Brad Powell’s choreography is an important element in one pivotal scene, and Andy Alvarado’s elaborately detailed set defines the inner-city milieu. Alvarado’s work as props master and set dresser includes caring for the three chickens that appear in the show.