Quincy Tyler Bernstine and Matthew Maher Photo by Emilio Madrid

Under Jack Serio's sensitive and incisive direction, the production retains its intimacy despite the move to a larger house. Nearly the entire original cast has returned, their performances having grown even more nuanced with time. As the sole newcomer, Matthew Maher was occasionally tentative and prone to a few line flubs, but he will surely find his footing and match the strength of his castmates as the run continues.

As has been well documented, the play's conceit is reminiscent of Thornton Wilder's Our Town. The spare scenic design primarily consists of a large empty playing space on an unfinished wood floor with an unadorned curtain hanging upstage. Although the setting is a well-appointed and lived-in family room, there are just a few set pieces, including a card table, folding chairs, and a few rudimentary kitchen appliances. (The Seaview stage has been removed, and Frank J. Oliva designed the simple but masterful set. Stacey Derosier's lighting, which boasts a dazzling effect, Brandon Bulls's sound, and Avery Reed's costumes provide contrasting specificity.)

An omniscient narrator (Maher), who is not unlike Wilder's Stage Manager character, provides visual elaboration as well as wry contextual information. Describing the Midwestern, "nice American suburb" where the play is set, he enumerates: "Two high schools, a community college. Strip malls, chain restaurants, gravel bike path, river boat casino. You know the kind of place. Maybe you're from one. A lot of us are."

The focus is on former elementary school teacher Maggie (Quincy Tyler Bernstine), whose husband Marv was recently killed in a shooting at the local community college. The play is constructed of several short, two-character scenes (all featuring Maggie), interspersed with the narrator's commentary. Taken together, the elements gradually and poetically show the impact of Marv's death on his wife, his extended family, and the larger community.

Maggie's first encounter involves Marv's cousin Wally, movingly and sweetly played by Will Dagger. Although Maggie is the grieving widow, she is protective of Wally, who has become dependent on the couple for financial support and familial guidance. Next to arrive is Joanie, in a quirky and comically absurd characterization by Constance Shulman, who is the funeral planner. Toting a bouquet of helium balloons and warning about shoes that may clash with the carpet, Joanie offers Maggie a piquant lesson on the aesthetics of mourning.

Amelia Workman gives a multi-layered and rich depiction of Maggie's oldest friend and sister-in-law Julie. The conversation between the women raises some unsettling questions about Marv's death and makes Maggie question her relationship with her husband. The following scene with Marv's brother Jeff, in a suitably understated performance by Danny McCarthy, adds more doubt for Maggie concerning the events around the shooting.

As Angela, the mother of the student directly involved with the horrific event, Emily Davis is truly remarkable. She offers an indelible and heartbreaking rendering of a woman constricted by the rigid boundaries of her class and upbringing. She's the embodiment of the waitress in the diner, the woman behind the cash register, or the person behind the counter that most people don't even look up from their phones to notice. She's unforgettable in her exquisite ordinariness. Cricket Brown plays her daughter, Ashley, with a delicate touch, portraying a community college student and waitress who appears to be repeating her mother's mistakes–though a glimmer of hope emerges.

At its heart, Well, I'll Let You Go forces us to question how well we can ever know another person. Maggie and Marv had been married twenty-five years, but with his death, Maggie sees her husband as a stranger. In Bernstine's rich, beautifully acted delineation, we see the accumulated marital misgivings and shattered dreams, as well as the gratifications of loving and being loved by a person unconditionally. It's a tour de force in its honesty.

Bernstine's performance is one to cherish, and this is a play that should not be missed. Even on repeat viewings, Well, I'll Let You Go exerts a powerful hold.