Lauren E. Banks, Mirirai, Adrienne C. Moore, Susan Kelechi Watson, and Crystal Dickinson Photo by Julieta Cervantes

As you enter the theater, you will get a good sense of the setting as laid out in Adam Rigg's design. It is a seaside cabin located on a relatively isolated island off the coast of Georgia, accessible only by an unreliable ferry or private boat from the mainland. The cabin is the longtime home of the Jernigans, a Black family with deep roots, long memories, and a griot's worth of stories of generations of their ancestors. Hanging everywhere are quilts, quilts, and more quilts.

It has been three weeks since their mother died, at 4:00 to judge by the clock on the wall which was stopped in her honor and has yet to be restarted. But while the deceased herself is not the direct reason for the gathering, her presence is deeply felt. Over the course of the play, the sisters and the teenage daughter of one of them connect or bump up against one another with a mixture of love, genuine humor, sometimes-disparate recollections, and a stirring of old resentments.

This set-up is often the frame for family plays of this type, with siblings reuniting following the death of a parent. But Hall does two things that expand on the format and make it her own launching pad. The first is to individualize the characters, each of whom had a different father as well as a different relationship with their mother, by all accounts a surly and demanding woman. The second, and perhaps the more important, is to bring in stories that transcend any bickering and head-butting that takes place, stories connected to those ubiquitous quilts their mother taught them to create through the years. The sewing circle has brought them together through most of their lives, even as they split away (only one remained throughout to care for their mother in her declining years).

Like the famous quilts of the Gullah Geechee communities of the coastal regions and islands of the southeastern United States, or even more modern translations of the art by Faith Ringgold, these family quilts tell ancestral stories. And we get to hear of some of them amid the frequent thunderstorms that lend a haunted atmosphere to the proceedings. It becomes, then, a huge bone of contention as to whether, rather than losing the home to back taxes that their mother neglected to pay, they should sell the quilts to raise the funds to keep it.

These are the strengths of the play itself, which was first produced in 2015. The strength of the Lincoln Center production rests with a clarity in which each of the sisters and the teenager are portrayed under Lileana Blain-Cruz's thoughtful direction. The eldest sister is Clementine (Crystal Dickinson), the one who has never left and who is the keeper of the flame of memory (contemporary and bygone) that binds them together. Next is Gio (Adrienne C. Moore), loud, bitter, and hurting from the pain of their mother's disdain for her. The third-born is Cassan (Susan Kelechi Watson), an Army nurse and mother to 15-year-old Zambia (Mirirai), who essentially serves as our eyes and ears (as well as her own) as she observes the interactions among her aunts. The youngest sister is Amber (Lauren E. Banks) who, it seems, was their mother's favorite but who all but cut ties by relocating to California, where she is a lawyer in the entertainment industry.

There are times when the play dips into soap opera shortcuts and sudden and distracting revelations, but generally the dialog and interactions ring true. And the central image of the family, their stories, and above all, the significance of and rituals tied to the quilts make for a remarkable evening of theatre, with all of it delivered by the first-rate cast.