Wanamaker likewise modulates the given extremes of her dynamic character. Even though Odets may at times seem to write Bessie as the Jewish Mother From Hell, Wanamaker doesn't show us a witch, but neither does she sentimentalize her as some generic suffering immigrant matriarch. This is just plainly a very sad, disappointed adult, clinging to the ideals society has taught her. ("Here without a dollar you don't look the world in the eye. Talk from now to next year - this is life in America.")

The tinges of regret and resignation we occasionally see in her are of a woman half conscious of losing her soul. A small-framed physical presence, Wanamaker does not bully her family, but that permanently sour visage and steady low voice intimidates them — and us — very convincingly. Her Bessie, the antagonist, emerges surprisingly as the anchor of the play.

Such unforced and subtle naturalism distinguishes all the actors in this tight knit ensemble. If the opening moments seem slow, just sit back and adjust to its rhythms. No affected immigrant- family histrionics here. Just a quiet, seemingly uneventful night at the Bergers. The "slice of life" done tastefully and expertly. It is in this context that Ben Gazzara's somewhat daring "method" performance as the prophetic grandfather Jacob, can be best appreciated. No doubt there'll be some grumbling over his grainy monotone, heavily Yiddish-accented droning. But it forces you to listen. And it's far from the stereotype of the schmaltzy old wise man this role can fall victim to.

My only disappointment in the casting — and it's admittedly not insignificant — is in the two young protagonists, Hennie and Ralph. The former is woefully underwritten as a character and the latter is given to Waiting For Lefty-style speechifying more than heartfelt confession. But whatever small plot there is to Awake and Sing hinges on their efforts to break free from the prison of their family. The "struggle for life" is theirs most of all. It is therefore helpful to like them, and likeability and charm are not the strong suits of either Lauren Ambrose or Pablo Schreiber. Yes, both characters "got the blues," but Ambrose is too deflated and Schreiber too cold and strident to make me want to root for them. (While an asset in other roles, Schreiber's 6'3" rail-thin frame and steely-eyed demeanor don't help here. Odd casting for an underdog.)

Where Sher will invite the most criticism is in his approach to the scenic conception of the play. At first what struck me about Michael Yeargain's set is how closely it resembled pictures of the original Group production. (Day bed and window stage right, dinner table stage right with a makeshift curtain dividing the two areas.) While this apartment seems way too spacious for a 1935 Bronx tenement (and even regardless of historical realism, the play does demand claustrophobia), at least Yeargain has purged all sepia tones from his tattered plain walls, daring the fill the stage with grey.