I could remind you that Lughnasa is about five unmarried sisters living hand-to-mouth in a rural Irish village during the 1930s, but that would be teasing you with a lack of specifics. It would be more useful to identify Lughnasa (pronounced "LOON-uh-suh") as the play built around a radio that works for only a few moments at a time, as if obeying the Irish rule that all pleasures in life must be fleeting. There's also the scene that was probably responsible for the Tony, in which all five sisters drop their chores for a joyous dance around the front yard, seeming for a few minutes to escape from Friel's masterfully constructed prison of circumstances. The menial jobs, the cad who's left Christine with a son but no wedding band, and the uncle who may have lost his mind doing missionary work in Africa are pushed aside -- until the radio conks out once again.

Veteran director Nora Hussey, now the director of theater studies at Wellesley College, mounts a sturdy production of this sturdy play, using several actors familiar to Boston audiences. A press release notes that Lughnasa is meant to be "the initial step in establishing a significant, professional resident theatre ensemble," and the first step seems to be toward proficiency rather than innovation.

Hussey's direction helps to delineate the five sisters, which is no mean feat, but the dominant character in the play is eldest sister Kate, who forbids her siblings from attending a village dance and generally tries to maintain order in the household. She may be a foolish defender of tradition and faith; she may also be clear-eyed enough to know that change will make things worse for her family. Kate is an especially compelling character in the hands of Lynne Moulton, who was recently seen in Le Black Cat's production of Fen at the BCA. In both plays, Moulton has been highly expressive, and with a lesser director or weaker script this trait could become a distraction. In Lughnasa, she underscores the wariness of the other sisters. She's alternatively exuberant and panic-stricken at the on-and-off lucidity of "Father Jack," for example, while the other sisters quietly assume the worst.

Moulton plays off the audience's pleasure at watching someone who preaches decorum and restraint yet broadcasts her emotional reactions with all the subtlety of The Jerry Springer Show. I don't know whether we root for such a character to channel her energy better (as Kate does for a few glorious moments in the central dancing scene) or hope to witness her comeuppance for being such a scold (more complicated to explain), but I found it tough to take my eyes off her. Fortunately, director Hussey gives us no more or less of Moulton than is good for the play. She's front-and-center for her first long speech, during which she keeps pulling items out of a seemingly bottomless shopping bag, but during a pivotal speech by the play's narrator (Ciaran Crawford playing Christine's grown-up son, speaking from a few decades into the future), Moulton is planted far upstage with her back to the audience.

Nicole Jesson stands out as Maggie, the sister most willing to challenge Kate; her best moment is a wistful recollection of a long-ago dance contest she was in. Kate Connor is effective as the meek, constantly knitting Agnes, who occasionally reveals a deep bitterness at her lot in life. Alicia Kahn, as unwed mother Christine, and Derek Nelson, as the charming but irresponsible man in her life, have a nice chemistry that helps us accept their hyper-dysfunctional relationship. As played by James Butterfield, the character of Father Jack is more problematic; he's not much on comic relief, but his tragic dimensions don't really come through, other than in how he affects the sisters.

The set, by Ken Loewit, is simple but elegant. The sisters' house is separated from the audience by a "moat" of grass and hay; and the sense of isolation is heightened by the wooden frame that serves as the back wall of the kitchen but resembles the masts on a ship. The latter effect may be unintentional, but this Lughnasa does bring the phrase "smooth sailing" to mind.