“Millennium Approaches”—the first part of Tony Kushner’s Pulitzer Prize and Tony Award winning play “Angels in America”—has the potential to be performed either as a riveting commentary on the height of the AIDS epidemic and what it truly meant to live as a homosexual in this time, or as a sorry excuse for intertwining the clichéd dramatic motifs of death, abandonment, love, religion, and truth. Friday’s opening on the Loeb Mainstage—directed by Sara L. Wright ’09—overflowed with a vitality that managed to make these overdone themes appear refreshingly novel.

The three-hour-long piece (schedule your dinner plans for before curtain call!) is a series of interconnected stories of individuals wrestling with deviant identities in Reagan-era New York City. The floor design—a white web of sorts—mimics the interwoven nature of the narratives; streaks of red and blue remind the audience of the American ideals against which the characters are juxtaposed. Sets are minimal, as the script calls for numerous settings, and most furniture is on wheels so that it can be easily moved and given another use. This rapid movement suits the show well; it emphasizes the motif of change and migration, presenting each scene as a temporary meshing of two or more characters’ individual stories.

The fourth wall is kept intact for the duration of the piece, ensuring distance between the audience and the actors and highlighting, intentionally or not, the gap in place and time between the two. Yet with the audience flanking either side of the stage (the show is set in the center of the Mainstage), even if the actors are not making direct contact with the audience, viewers can see others’ reactions and feel some sense of community in the theatre.

The overall strength of the cast’s performance also helped forge a connection between those on and off stage. Scene I opens with Rachel E. Flynn ’09 conducting a funeral as a Yiddish rabbi—one of her many small roles in Part I, all of which are underscored by her knack for comedic timing and evocative facial expressions. It is soon revealed that the deceased is the grandmother of Louis Ironson, a neurotic gay Jewish lawyer. Gus T. Hickey ’11 uses mannerisms, including an obsessive habit of wringing his hands and wiping them on his trousers, bring out Louis’ neuroticism without overdoing it. Hickey, who is a Crimson Fifteen Minutes comper, delivered a convincing portrayal of the overly worrisome character, though at times he lacked conviction during Louis’ pivotal emotional scenes.

Louis worries because his lover of four years, Prior Walter, has just been diagnosed with AIDS. Jonah C. Priour ’09 does a remarkable job with Prior’s decline, presenting him as disheartened but determined to retain composure and a sense of humor no matter the cost. He comes the closest of any of the actors to being able to elicit both tears and laughter from the audience within seconds of each other.

Another standout performance is that of Benjamin K. Glaser ’09 as Roy Cohn, the mean-spirited conservative lawyer in denial about his homosexuality and AIDS affliction. Roy is not a likeable character, and when the veins in his neck are prominent and his hoarseness palpable, Glaser makes him seem like the devil. From obnoxiously loud eating habits to a quick instinct to stand upright after being shoved, Glaser adds touching subtleties that flesh out the height of Roy’s Napoleon complex.

The unraveling of the Pitts, the play’s Morman heterosexual couple, is perhaps not as powerfully presented as the story of Louis and Prior, but it is effective nonetheless. Alex R. Breaux ’09 often displays a stoic demeanor that perfectly captures Joe Pitt’s struggle to fit the ideal of the nondescript, hardworking, heterosexual American male. (In reality, Joe is anything but the American ideal.) Even his costume (designed by Rheeqrheeq A. Chainey ’11)—a suit complete with a red and blue striped tie—reflects his concern with an outward appearance and reputation that gets Uncle Sam’s stamp of approval. Anna Smith’s turn as Joe’s Valium-addicted, sex-starved wife Harper is not quite on par with Breaux’s performance. She has mastered Harper’s childlike sense of wonder but emits too much humor and cheerfulness during Harper’s moments of despair. These qualities serve her well in Harper’s scenes of fantasy but detract from the gravity of her problems in the scenes grounded in reality.

After three hours of sitting through this incredibly heavy work, one would think the audience wanted nothing more than to escape. Yet despite what appeared to be some technical difficulties with the play’s final, explosive scene, the cast of eight’s seamless buildup of the most heart-wrenching human emotions begs the audience to return for the drama’s conclusion and ensures that—even with its treatment of hackneyed themes—this is not a play you’ve seen before.