The University Resident Theatre Company's Dancing at Lughnasa isn't an overwhelmingly powerful play --as a matter of fact it isn't overwhelming in any way. Instead, it is like a rhythm -- lovely, subtle and celebratory.

Most of all, it is exceptional for its mingling of the terrible and tragic with perfect joy. Though the fate of the characters is profoundly sad, the story is not gut wrenching because its focus is the vitality and lust for life in a strong Irish matriarchy.

The play, by Irish playwright Brian Friel, continues until Saturday, Dec. 4, at The Playhouse theater.

Friel relates the story of five unmarried sisters living in rural County Donegal, Ireland with scandal, crushed dreams and 7-year-old Michael, the illegitimate son of one of the women.

The story is recalled by the adult Michael, who details his last idyllic moments during the harvest festival of Lughnasa, the Celtic god, in the summer of 1936.

The trials the women face are tremendous -- social ostracization, growing economic instability and mental illness. Christina, Michael's mother, listens to the hollow promises of the irresponsible Gerry, her son's father, dancing briefly with him in moments of doomed romantic bliss.

Three sisters lose their jobs to mechanization and scandal. The family works to accept the scandalous Uncle Jack, kicked out of missionary work in Africa for abandoning his Christian faith and "going native."

Yet the play focuses on the joy of life, the warmth and support of family and fun, the things the family passionately snatches from worry, struggle and pain . . . and sweetly celebrates with dance.

The dance scenes are gorgeous, creating, as Michael liltingly describes, a kind of trance. When the sisters, including the straight-laced schoolteacher Kate, break into an intense dance to an Irish folk song, the result is pure pagan bliss.

This tension between the pagan and the proper is especially taut in Ireland, where the culture balances on both Celtic and Christian influences.

The best thing about Lughnasa is the characters, who are incredibly likeable, realistic and carefully sketched out. The actors beautifully distinguish personalities and usually capture the illusive dynamics of family that most audience members will recognize.

Tyler Hayes Stilwill was great as Michael, weaving his reveries with amused fondness and giving dreamy drama to long monologues that easily could have lapsed into tedium. He carefully worked the beautifully written speeches, allowing them to create imagery and mood.

Jessica Raab as the unstable Rose also stood out, creating a sweetly simple and lovable character constantly teetering on the edge of hysteria. Rose, it seems, is closest to the pagan that the other sisters work to suppress.

Barbara Redmond as Kate, Kellynn M. Wolke as fun, earthy and sharp-tongued Maggie and Lauren Dowden as quiet, sweet Agnes also gave hearty realism to their characters.

Though Michael allows us to see into the future at the tragic fate of the sisters, the final scene, recalling a happier time, is still something that we can celebrate and rejoice in. Though sad, the play is warming and fosters awareness of the pagan rhythms inside us.