There’s a moment early in ACT Theatre’s production of Christopher Durang’s Tony-winning Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike where Sonia fretfully relays a dream she had where she was 52 and unmarried (which she is). Her brother Vanya bluntly quips, “Were you dreaming in the documentary form?” A depressing resignation hides behind that line that reflects an accurate summation of the siblings’ situation. They’re aging jobless nobodies who still live in their childhood home that rely on their famous actress sister Masha paying the bills from afar. But their bleak existence gets a jolt when Masha returns with her new decades-younger beau Spike and intentions to sell the house. The situation forces three Chekhovian-named siblings to spend a few tense days dealing with the realities aging and (possibly more difficultly) dealing with each other.

Vanya (R. Hamilton Wright) and Sonia (Marianne Owen) live a fairly disheartening existence, acting out a daily routine of resentment, self-loathing, and the occasional smashed coffee mug. The pair had to care for their dying parents while Masha was off being a movie star, and they never moved out or moved on with their lives. While Vanya tries to keep slightly more optimistic spirits, Sonia exists as a frazzled ball of tension whose sense of not belonging in life is furthered by being the adopted member of the family.

Masha (Pamela Reed) arrives as an inconsiderate flash of ego with her strapping but daft boy toy Spike (William Poole) in tow (he’s fellow actor—of questionable talent—who almost landed a role in Entourage 2). She returns with plans to attend a cultured costume party (where she’ll be Snow White and everyone else’s costume will revolve around that theme) and to unveil the news of the home’s upcoming sale to her brother and sister. When Spike encounters a bubbly young aspiring actress named Nina (Sydney Andrews) and brings her back to the house to meet Masha, it sparks Masha’s jealous defensiveness. Masha has gone through five husbands and the relationship with Spike is keeping alive her fleeting attachment to youth. The housekeeper Cassandra (Cynthia Jones) rounds out the cast. She provides doses of comedic zest, but her loud and accurate prophetic visions that she shares with the other characters and her dabbling in voodoo adds a magical tone that’s rather incongruous with the rest of the play.

The three actors playing the siblings carry Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike. Reed conveys both the theatrical melodrama pulsing through Masha veins and the façade of stardom superiority she hides behind to block out the reality of time passing. Sonia’s sadness comes to life with personable detail through Owen’s performance; showing how she’s paralyzed by a crushing sense of wanting change but fearing action. Wright’s Vanya serves as the calming force between his sisters, but there’s obviously an exasperated tension of his own building up. Wright and Owen’s timidity makes the two scenes that the play really hinges on—Sonia’s unexpected phone call and Vanya’s existential and anti-technological outburst—become moments of character growth and revelation. These characters go through roller coaster highs and lows, and the performances keep the audience strapped in the entire time.

Durang’s script is packed with comedically curt dialogue. Lines like Spike’s early proclamation that “The unhappy orphanage lady thinks I’m a stud, that’s nice!” and Sonia’s near orgasmic proclamation that “I love Sleepytime tea!” are uproariously funny. Dramatically, however, the story is a bit too obvious with its themes at times. There’s a rather on-the-nose scene where Sonia and Masha are loudly bemoaning their contrasting fates with Sonia bellowing “I’ve never lived!” and Masha wailing “My life is over!” Additionally, the idyllic denouement feels a touch abrupt. But the laughs are consistent enough and the characters have enough tangible depth to make Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike a worthwhile exploration navigating depression while growing old.

Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike
Thru Nov 16, ACT Theatre, $20–$66