A passionate tree surgeon reeling from a cooling romance, a young woman tracking a missing friend on the prairie, and a new mother enticed by a sudden celebrity friendship each make a seemingly small choice that ripples into a monumental shift.

Monologues with a connecting theme of newness, the universally acknowledged characteristic of not yet being tainted by the world or time spent in it. New Born is a robust investigation of this quality that manages, to a refreshing degree, not to be too obvious or didactic about it; my friend and I had to piece together connections on the way to dinner after the show.

Across three disparate stories, we’re offered a variety of lenses to examine the nature of newness—innocence, intactness, youthful sheen—and what these things inspire in us. We have a deep instinct to protect the young, and our need to do right by them is powerful enough to override other base desires. For many of us, youthfulness is a key component of physical attraction. Most of us are afraid of losing our precious vitality in one way or another, by age or injury or disillusionment, and each story has moments when this happens in varying, permanent ways. We recognize that it’s important to treat people who‘ve lost their newness with compassion and dignity, as we all get there eventually. The show doesn’t beat you over the head with a buttoning conclusion, but instead offers these things up for your consideration as part of the human condition, which some might find less-than-exciting.

That said, all three monologues are compellingly written and performed. They’re definitely arranged in the right sequence, and Hugh Jackman is a particular highlight in the anchor slot, but, god damn, Marianna Gailus’s eyes are like laser beams, and I wish I had caught her in Vanya. An hour-fifty in monologues with no intermission had me feeling a bit restless in my seat by the end, but I do think the runtime is earned by these richly fleshed-out characters. A worthwhile piece in an intimate little space.