Susan Shirwen's play "Miso" observes the classical unities, taking place in a poor farmhouse during a 24-hour period. Except for a neighbor, the characters are in a single family sharing the tiny home.

Despite their forced intimacy, they are not close-knit. All carry personal baggage and family grudges. The grandmother dominates her daughter-in-law, the two adult sons are individually bull-headed, and the grandchildren are weaklings or daydreamers.

The relationships emerge during a domestic melodrama that makes up a talky and repetitive first act.

But to its credit, Act One does provide a detailed flavor of time and place. A failing economy and distrust in government drive common people to life-altering decisions. America shines as a beacon through its movies, music and dances.

Forcing an ill-suited grandson to enlist as a soldier occasions a great deal of the preliminary debate. But it precipitates an avalanche of calamities that begin to fall in Act Two.

Murder, rape and madness transform the play and give it the proportions of Elizabethan high tragedy.

Blending that wrenching transition and making it acceptable is the key to making the play work.

The bulk of that responsibility falls on the shoulders of Allan Okubo as the eldest son. Kozo is thick-headed and stubborn, mouthing expected platitudes and steadfastly refusing to recognize alternative realities. But a graveyard vision occurring offstage during intermission changes all that and drives him to a desperate and tragic act as the final curtain falls.

We can accept Kozo's iron control on both sides of his conversion; Okubo does a credible job with both halves of his character. But the plot device is a playwriting cop-out.

Otherwise, director Clare Davidson and cast do consistent work on Brad Powell's detailed and convincing stage set.