Midori Francis gives a layered, glittering performance in William Inge’s Bus Stop, in a co-production from NAATCO, Classic Stage Company, and Transport Group. While it may not be a complete heartstopper of a play, there are flickering moments of human frailty in this dramedy of lonely, lost folks stuck at a roadside diner for a night in a snow storm. Director Jack Cummings III’s production offers some subtle performances even if Inge’s material is more on-the-nose.

It is 1955 in Kansas. Still-married but long without her husband, no-nonsense Grace (Cindy Cheung) runs this diner with help from precocious high school student Elma (Delphi Borich) who waits tables. When a snowstorm closes the roads in the middle of the night, bus driver Carl (David Shih) deposits his passengers at the diner. Keeping tempers in control is the sheriff, Will (Đavid Lee Huỳnh). And his skills will be needed because Cherie (Francis), a “chanteuse” from Kansas City, has been abducted by the unpredictable cowboy Bo (Michael Hsu Rosen), who insists they are going to his Montana ranch to marry. Cherie is trying to get out of it and begs the sheriff for help. Bo doesn’t listen to her, the sheriff, or his cowpoke friend Virgil (Moses Villarama), who has raised him. Finally, among this motley bus crew is former college professor Dr. Lyman (Rajesh Bose), who is now a poetry-reciting drunkard and lech.

While Inge was a popular mid-century playwright, I always find his plays too obvious. Inge was gay, closeted, and an alcoholic. He wrote of the darkness and alienation in post-war America. His subject matter is not dated at all, but he writes in such a way that he’s screaming subtext as text, leaving little subtext for me to chew on.

I’ve always been drawn to British playwright Terrence Rattigan, who also wrote about loneliness and repression in the same period. While Inge and Rattigan are not the same, there are parallels to their work. And as I was watching Bus Stop I wished I could talk about this all with the theater critic Terry Teachout, who I know was always such a fan of Inge. Maybe he could get to the bottom of my affection for Rattigan and alienation from Inge.

But, even if Inge is not my vibe, I am glad we have the opportunity to see Bus Stop. Here, he writes of sex, desire, marriage, divorce, love, longing, and loneliness. None of that has gone out of fashion. The characters draw out those issues in conversation with a surprising frankness.

There are many romantic entanglements to fill the hours of the snowstorm. Grace and Carl sneak off for sex. Cherie and Bo are fighting over whether they are on their way to be married or not. And Dr. Lyman, loudly and unsubtly, longs for Elma, who is so happy for any attention.

The only ones on the outside of these couplings are Will, who steps in to tame wild Bo, and Virgil, who has an unspoken love for Bo—whether it is paternal or romantic, it is hard to say.

No one is happy, everyone a little trapped in their lives. This bus stop is their moment of transition—lives are changed in big and small ways when the bus finally gets back on the road.

Jack Cummings III’s production has no sound design. This ultra-minimalism comes at a cost of setting. There is so much dialogue around this storm whipping the diner and we hear nothing.  In a way, this makes everyone marooned in a netherspace that is neither here nor there. It’s not that that does not work with the text—it is after all an existential waystation and we are meant to see them as adrift in space. But everything else in the production is so naturalistic that this one bold choice feels out of sync overall. Rather than a choice it feels like an absence–maybe it would be less noticeable if the characters didn’t keep talking about the weather. Though gentle lighting with moments of dramatic punctation by R. Lee Kennedy enhances the atmosphere nicely.

Midori Francis, with blonde, tousled curls, is playing a role made famous in film by Marilyn Monroe. Beyond the hair color, she avoids any real comparisons and makes this her own. She is raw, confused, and searching. As her eyes dart around the room, you see her trying to figure out this situation she has gotten herself into but more importantly she is still trying to understand the world around her. She is bubbly and friendly as a mask and a default. She tries to negotiate herself out of danger with her accessibility. But she also frustrated with the way she is unheard and unseen and eventually takes action to set boundaries for herself. She creates a beautiful portrait of a woman becoming. Francis makes so much quiet work even when she is not the center of the scene. At one point, she is gnawing her hand as she contemplates where she is going and we can see how deeply all this has cut her.

I only wish the character of Bo was clearer for me. Michael Hsu Rosen never comes across as menacing or dangerous. His anger is more childish tantrum than fury. His character is immature and under-formed but he is also quick to rage and fists and the danger of this kind of violence is missing. But when he admits to his own vulnerabilities, it is a more effective performance.

Moses Villarama makes much of his small role as Virgil. Without a lot of lines, there is something about the way he touches and manages Bo. He can only wrangle this wild child so much and his choice to let Bo go his own way weighs heavy in the room. And all that is delivered through Villarama’s body language.

So while Bus Stop didn’t grab me as a whole, I found these small portraits of humanity delicately shaded by this able cast.