Family plots audiences can relate to

People probably knew this, deep down, eons before Tolstoy made it his first sentence in "Anna Karenina" in 1873. But that observation -- "Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way" -- has burrowed so far into the psyche of the American theater that domestic crises often seem the only subjects considered worth the drama.

This obsession with, pardon the expression, dysfunctional families (ever seen a functional one?) gets jarred loose periodically for the kind of big-picture plays more enthusiastically embraced in England. And after Tony Kushner blasted us all out of the living room with the daring politics and fantastical style of "Angels in America" in the early '90s, more of our theater broadened its lens to see beyond what, in my worst nights, I think of as daddy-didn't-love-me-enough theater.

On the other hand, there can be little more satisfying, or amusing, or harrowing than an unexpected dive back into the family marrow, that dark place where individual pathology and genetics go to party.

Who can guess how the journey will go when Ethan Coen, Elaine May and Woody Allen come together Thursday on Broadway for "Relatively Speaking," three one-act family comedies on the ever-popular domestic bonds of, respectively, insanity, death and marriage?

I can say that I've just had a terrific couple of evenings, in very different ways, with new plays about families that are unhappy (thank you, Tolstoy) in their own special troubles.

One, "We Live Here," is a refreshingly thoughtful, unpredictable and surprisingly straightforward serious comedy by Zoe Kazan, better known as one of New York's best self-challenging young actresses. The other, "The Lyons," is the latest in almost a dozen bleakly absurd, outrageously relatable tragicomedies in which Nicky Silver has dwelled on characters with different names but many of the same issues.

THE LYONS

But first, a moment to appreciate Linda Lavin.

The theater community has been befuddled that this accomplished and scene-stealing star chose to go Off-Broadway in an unproven piece instead of transferring to Broadway with the acclaimed "Other Desert Cities" or moving from Washington to Broadway with the cast of "Follies."

One need only watch the opening monologue -- aria, really -- to understand what must have seemed to be a nutty decision. She plays Rita, motormouth wife of the nasty cancer-ridden Ben (Dick Latessa) and disappointed mother of a gay short-story writer (Michael Esper) and a recovering alcoholic/single mother (Kate Jennings Grant).

Rita is a hyper-articulate, bitter and upwardly striving middle-class woman who overdresses for the hospital death watch. Browsing a home-furnishing magazine for remodeling tips for impending widowhood, she launches into just the first of many stream-of-consciousness soliloquies of blunt cruelty and unbridled bad taste.

You know how Eskimos are said to have a gazillion words for snow? This is how many messages Lavin can express just by pursing her lips. Much has been written about her voice, a sound that manages to be grating and comforting at the same time. But at least as much is said when she shuts her mouth.

Silver always has an admirable respect for hysteria, especially for deeply vulnerable women with hairpin mood swings and loopy litanies of family horror stories. Not all the shifts are convincing in director Mark Brokaw's unevenly pitched production with the slightly sentimental ending. The sister, a Silver character formerly defined by the febrile appeal of Hope Davis and Patricia Clarkson, is just shrill here. Still, it's a pleasure to be back in one of Silver's deeper, darker whirlpools of emotional hunger, despair and unexpected tenderness. As Beckett liked to say, nothing is funnier than unhappiness.

WE LIVE HERE

The unhappiness in this well-off New England family is situational, not pathological. Something terrible happened in the past, a secret that, for all its formulaic peril, kept me wondering what would happen next.

This is a youthful play, a three-sisters play, though one sister has died before the family gathers in the spacious and comfortably appointed house for a wedding. (Wonderful design by John Lee Beatty.) Yes, it is possible to imagine this familiar setup as a linear movie plot. But Kazan -- whose talent has outgrown the privileges that come from being granddaughter of the legendary director Elia Kazan and daughter of screenwriters -- creates charming, bright characters and conversational dialogue that writesbelievable individuals while effortlessly moving the heavy-freighted action along.

The play has been given a lavish but emotionally delicate production, directed by Sam Gold, the theater's deserved star of relationship drama. Amy Irving holds the careening center of the family together as the loving mother, while Mark Blum is achingly kind as the ineffectual father. Betty Gilpin, Oscar Isaac, Jessica Collins and Jeremy Shamos expertly carry the open-ended contradictions as high-achieving daughters and their lovers.

Kazan has characters who ask, "What makes you happy?" a deceptively naive question that she manages to answer without turning anyone into a soap-opera cliche. Lovely.

WHAT "The Lyons"

WHERE Vineyard Theatre, 108 E. 15th St.

INFO $70; 212-353-0303; vineyardtheatre.org

WHAT "We Live Here"

WHERE Manhattan Theatre Club, 131 W. 55th St.

INFO $80; 212-581-1212; nycitycenter.org.

WHAT "Relatively Speaking"

WHERE Atkinson Theatre, 256 W. 47th St.

INFO $55-$135; 877-250-2929; relativelyspeaking.com.