By Edward Albee. Directed by John Wright. A Blackbird Theatre production. At the Cultch Historic Theatre on Sunday, January 3. Continues until January 16

After the first two acts, I was impressed, but I was also nitpicking. At the end of Act 3, I couldn’t sustain the nitpicking because I was crying too hard.

When Edward Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? premiered in 1962, it hit the western world with the force of a blow to the solar plexus. Over the course of three substantial acts, George, a small-town history professor, and his braying, domineering wife, Martha, consume toxic levels of alcohol and verbally lacerate each other in front of their guests: Nick, a studly young biology professor, and his mousy spouse Honey. George and Martha’s parlour games include Get the Guests, Humiliate the Host, and Hump the Hostess. But as Honey throws up and George sends Nick off to screw Martha, we come to understand that this is a story about love trying to free itself from pain. Martha says that George must be punished because he understands her. George organizes a showdown that will either finish their marriage or—possibly—save it.

More than 40 years after the play’s premiere, it’s still funny when George calls Honey “angel tits” and “monkey nipples”, but the script has lost much of its shock value—and mystery. Most of us know the answer to the riddle about George and Martha’s son, who never appears on-stage. With the horror and confusion muted, we’re more likely to see the joinery in the play’s construction, and to ask questions like “Why don’t Nick and Honey just leave?”

Virginia Woolf is still a fantastic evening of theatre, though, and director John Wright gives it an excellent, if not quite perfect, production.

Playing Honey, Meg Roe is as sweet and clueless as a Labrador puppy—with the same concentration and vague understanding. Roe’s performance is seamless. Craig Erickson’s Nick shines most brightly in a second-act scene with George, in which Nick’s inebriation and venality combine in a giddy arrogance that blinds him to the threat he’s facing.

This production could use more of that drunkenness and danger. Yes, George and Martha can knock it back, but after hours and hours of solid drinking, surely all four characters would be showing the effects. Alcohol plays a minor and inconsistent role in this mounting, however. Kevin McNulty’s George remains as sober as a judge, and George drives this play, so his sobriety here means that things don’t feel nearly as unstable as they should. Overall, the shifts between affection and viciousness aren’t as extreme—and unsettling—as they could be. All of that said, McNulty delivers an admirable portrait—clear, witty, and nuanced.

Gabrielle Rose’s Martha is a huge but honest and generous creation. Because Rose shows us Martha’s aggression so clearly, it’s moving when her defences are stripped away, and the play reminds us that sometimes hearts have to be broken before they can open.