"The Revisionist' in New York

A 75-year-old woman sits in her shabby apartment, her bare feet immersed in a water basin. A large, hairy cab driver, almost half her age, kneels before her, slowly and carefully shaving her legs, while she shivers with delight. It's a captivating moment, filled with conspiratorial glee and tinged with the slightest touch of eroticism.

That kind of moment in the theater — banal and yet thrilling— is rare enough. But the woman is Vanessa Redgrave, one of the finest actresses of our time. Now, that's something to talk about.

Theater aficionados all know and admire the work of Redgrave, a classically trained actress spawned by a renowned theater family (daughter of Sir Michael Redgrave, sister of Corin and Lynn, and mother of Joely Richardson and the late Natasha Richardson). During her 55-year career on stage and screen (including more than 80 films), Redgrave has appeared opposite Sir Laurence Olivier, Albert Finney, Charles Laughton and dozens of other great performers. She's played the gamut of Greek heroines, Shakespearean queens and Chekhovian gentry.

From O'Neill to Joan Didion

Meanwhile, she continues to astonish us on both sides of the Atlantic with her versatility and virtuosity. In the past decade alone, Redgrave's Broadway performances include the role of Mary in Eugene O'Neill's Long Day's Journey Into Night (for which she won a Tony), the star in Joan Didion's one-woman show, The Year of Magical Thinking, and the title role in Alfred Uhry's Driving Miss Daisy (opposite James Earl Jones).

But an unknown septuagenarian from Szczecin, Poland, performed in a 200-seat West Village venue? That seems one of Redgrave's least likely roles.

Yet the part of Maria— as well as the intimacy of Jesse Eisenberg's The Revisionist and the Cherry Lane Theatre— fits Redgrave like a glove.

The Revisionist tells the story of a young writer named David (played by Eisenberg), who seeks out his second cousin, Maria, in her remote Polish town by the Baltic Sea in order to stay with her while he finishes rewriting his science fiction novel. From the moment David bursts into her tiny apartment, his knapsack filled with New York neuroses, we know that this "odd couple" will soon be at odds.

Irritating sounds

Maria is prepared to put her quotidian life on hold and look after her younger relative. After all, she's a Holocaust survivor, having lost her immediate family in World War II. A rare visit from a distant American cousin will fill the emptiness that has marked her life for decades.

David has other designs. He seeks refuge from the literary marketplace in a remote spot, where he can face his deadline. Here in Szczecin, he hopes to find privacy and peace.

From their first encounter, however, it's clear that David won't find it at Maria's. First, her English is halting, and they can hardly understand one another. Second, the tiny apartment is filled a cacophony of irritating sounds that disturb David's concentration, like the blare of CNN on the TV (to which Maria is addicted) and the ringing of the phone.

Maria constantly interrupts David while he's trying to write (and smoke pot), eager to show him the photos of her American relatives, proudly displayed on the apartment walls (which he refuses to look at, along with the framed New York Times review of his first book, which happens to be unfavorable).

Opposites attract

David, in turn, berates Maria for the intrusive phone calls and the irritating Polish chatter with the visiting taxi cab driver. He refuses the chicken dinner that Maria has carefully prepared in honor of his arrival— a rebuke that hurts her feelings, though he tries to explain that he's a vegan.

They barrage each other with unwelcome questions. "What is your story?" asks David persistently, seeking details from Maria's obscure past. "Why does your publisher want you to rewrite your book?" Maria inquires bluntly, offering him unsolicited suggestions for a title change.

And yet, as the play progresses, Maria and David are drawn inexorably to each other, offering the companionship and comfort that each desperately needs but is unable to articulate.

Fluent Polish

It's a pure joy to watch Redgrave and Eisenberg as they spar, tiff and laugh together. In one hilarious scene, Maria, determined to please, serves David a vegan dinner and tastes tofu for the first time. At another moment, Maria convinces David to perform Abbott and Costello's "Who's on First?" routine— which he does, ineptly.

Both actors dazzle the audience with acting technique— Redgrave as she rattles on in fluent Polish on the phone or with her taxi driver, and Eisenberg as he natters on in his non-stop narcissistic narrative.

These fleeting moments of intimacy soon evaporate, however, as a dramatic revelation in Maria's past turns the play 180 degrees and veers toward a traumatic ending.

"The world is unfair," cries David in a moment of vulnerability. "All problems are the same, because they have a solution," consoles Maria.

This small, unassuming play about large themes— survival, loneliness, family, empathy— offers plenty to think about, thanks to deeply human portrayals of two lost souls who connect, albeit only for a moment.