A captivating work that renders a bizarre situation oddly relatable

It’s hardly uncommon that the emotional tsunami of maternal love can inspire many mothers to believe their children are truly special beings, perhaps even divine. But in the imaginative mind of Sarah Ruhl, that primal connection yields an extraordinary story. The Oldest Boy may not match the poetic complexity of the playwright’s The Clean House, or the socio-psychological acuity of In the Next Room, or The Vibrator Play, but this meditation on such intellectually unfashionable concepts as faith, destiny and spirituality is delicate and affecting. And it’s impossible to imagine it receiving more ideal treatment than in Rebecca Taichman’s exquisite production for Lincoln Center Theater. In the decade since Ruhl emerged as a singular new voice in American theater, she has established herself as a writer adept at weaving together lyricism with naturalism. The MacArthur Fellowship recipient combines existential inquiry with playful humor and unstinting compassion. By that standard, The Oldest Boy is among her more straightforward works, but it has a poignancy that feels unique and entirely personal. It also evinces a fresh perspective on parental attachment and the mentor-disciple relationship.