When Joe Moore's "Prophecy and Honor" was first presented in Honolulu in 1993, it was a staged reading at Diamond Head Theatre. Actors carried and read from their scripts, and the event was considered to be a test flight for new material.

Fourteen years later and a bit more polished, Moore's play based on the court-marshal of Gen. Billy Mitchell is on stage again at the Hawai'i Theatre as a benefit for the Pacific Aviation Museum at Pearl Harbor. Actors with Broadway and Hollywood credentials share the roles with local performers, but the script's stageworthiness continues to be hampered by readings rather than fully developed performances.

It's particularly disappointing that Richard Dreyfuss, in the substantial role of Mitchell's defense attorney, is distractingly tied to the printed page. Dreyfuss rarely looks up from the book he carries, rarely makes eye contact with other characters, and plays the part as meditation upon his vest pockets. In this case, name recognition doesn't outweigh the detrimental effect of only a partial performance.

In a smaller part as the military prosecutor, George Segal is similarly bound to his note cards and, perhaps as balance to the out-of-towners, local actors Terence Knapp and David Farmer read lines that they could otherwise have memorized.

Moore, the playwright and central character, and others in the cast deliver fully-staged performances.

Glenn Cannon, who played the defense attorney in the original production, directs the effort but doesn't manage to smooth out the same problems that were evident the first time around.

Courtroom settings provide organic drama but are basically static. Anyone who has watched television is familiar with the basic roles and framework, and looks to character development and backstory to enliven the rigid context. Military court-marshals are not much different.

The backstory in "Prophecy and Honor" comes from a couple of perfunctory opening scenes and a new character, the Pilot, who pops up during the blackouts to provide narration and continuity. The primary figure, Billy Mitchell, is a potential dramatic character who is never satisfactorily explored. He remains not only wooden, but soundly petrified. That's a shame, because there are clues waiting to be developed.

The turning point in the legal argument is whether a military officer can be guilty of insubordination for speaking the truth. Mitchell's crime was to accuse Army leadership of mismanaging its fledgling air corps and unnecessarily jeopardizing the safety of its pilots. The question about his crusade: It may not have been driven by altruism, but by his personal megalomania.

His wife left him. He underwent psychiatric testing. He was fixated on his brother's death in a flying accident. But none of these possibilities figure in to the stolid character who sits on the sidelines through most of the testimony and argument.

Finally we understand why the witness stand is placed so far downstage that the subordinate characters deliver much of their testimony over their shoulders. It is pre-positioned for the final showdown when Moore as Mitchell faces full front to speak in his own defense.

By that time, most of the dramatic possibilities are so far lost that even impassioned shouting can't retrieve them. "Prophecy and Honor" ultimately becomes a billboard to proclaim that "Mitchell Was Right" and a missed opportunity to explore a more human drama.