What they find is the body of a young man, still strapped to his airline seat, in their field and torn pieces from a jet, along with luggage, littering their property. Not much is known of the whys and wherefores of the airline disaster—only that one of the passengers has landed in their backyard.

Out of respect for the dead, Elsie feels obligated not only to keep vigil with the body until the authorities come, but, as a matter of civility, to engage in a one-sided, witty, and entertaining conversation with the young man. It is cathartic for her, though she is unaware of it at the time. Her husband, a retired math professor, attempts to dissuade her from her vigil but relents and then dedicates himself to making her as comfortable as possible as she continues her monologue directed at the young man.

Peppered with wit—“They say a good teacher could talk two hours on any subject. Harry could talk two hours without any subject”—Kirkham is priming his audience for an assault of truth. At one point, Elsie begins to wonder if it is acceptable to talk to the dead. “The church, they frown on this talking to the dead. Maybe I should have been Catholic.”

What is really transpiring, however, is the bubbling to the surface of a long buried reality both Elsie and Harry share. It defines why they are stuck in the middle of nowhere—“Harry wanted to put up a sign: ‘If you can read this sign, you are lost.’”—and it is a truth they find they can no longer ignore. The painful acceptance of this truth offers new possibilities and helps them turn an important page in their lives.

Greenhill’s Elsie gives the right touch of motherly compassion and humor and makes us feel every nuance of her probing heart. She bravely brings her increasingly fragile, yet strong character to the dangerous threshold where sorrow and love buttress each other, forging the indomitability of the human spirit. It is through her voice that we can almost hear the old mantra, “Life goes on.”

LaPlatney’s Harold balances the couple’s bantering with the tired resignation of a man who will put up with his wife’s musings only because he loves her— completely. There is believable mutual respect.

Both Greenhill and LaPlatney handle their characters and the tragic subject matter with understated poignancy. They make us laugh, and then they make us cry.

Kyle Filault, an undergraduate at SUNY Albany, plays the young man in the airline seat.

Laura Margolis’s direction is, like the script itself, gently but firmly handled. She manages to pull from an unspoken tragedy an experience that is both staggering and beautiful.

The set by John Pollard is an imaginative creation that makes the sense of isolation almost tangible, adding to the weight of the story as it unfolds. The set, together with lighting by Frank Den Danto III and the original music and sound design by Will Severin, subtly work together as the perfect backdrop to the dialogue simmering on the stage.

Sometimes the darkest hour really is just before dawn. Sometimes we are most tired just before we wake up. And sometimes there is a play that we absolutely must see to help us understand ourselves better. This is one of those plays.

Production team includes Jennifer Schilansky, stage manager; Janet Sussman, costume design; Phillip Elman, technical director; and Kiyo Takami, understudy/ASM.

The American premier of Falling: A Wake runs through September 28 at Stageworks, Max and Lillian Katzman Theater, 41 Cross Street, Hudson, NY. For further details, call at (518) 822-9667 or visit www.stageworkstheater.org.