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James Sherman’s plays are rarely difficult, deeply exploratory pieces. He has a good ear for dialogue, a slightly less-than-subtle brushstroke used to create the characters that populate his work, and a penchant for comedies with shadows rather than serious topics made light. His most recent work, given its Southwest premier by Arizona Jewish Theatre Company, is a story of journeys toward forgiveness and communication entitled The Old Man’s Friend. Once again, the piece depends on misunderstandings, a certain amount of miscommunication, and a lot of comedy derived from the perils of familial confrontations and grudges, as well as the small steps necessary to move past them. It’s a fun work, filled with enough universals and oddball touches to make it easy to empathize with an endearing. However, what sets AJTC’s production apart is not Sherman’s characters and plot, but Randy Messersmith’s brilliant casting choices of the two leads, crusty septuagenarian Len (Jim Coates) and his strong-willed opera singer daughter Suzanne (Maria Amorocho) that allow this work to fascinate rather than just enjoy.

Messersmith has to deal with a lot more clunky dialogue than usual from Sherman to get to his second act payoffs. He also has to find a way to make some of the flatter characters in the show, those with much more limited character arcs like husband Jeff Silverman (Ben Tyler), his and Suzanne’s son Daniel (Justin Brooks), and his physician brother Bob (Matthew Zimmerer), hold the audience’s attention. He is not aided by Sherman’s character’s movement, which tends to be prone toward sitting and discussing. Messersmith has brought together a strong cast and has asked Thom Gilseth’s to create a set design that fractures the settings and past into tidy playing spaces. It is Messersmith’s casting that makes a lot from a little less.

The most incredible offering is the spare presentation of Coates. He gives exactly the right amount of passion and repression in bringing across this deeply conflicted, stoic individual. He makes his character’s monosyllabic responses gruff but understandable, while also imbuing his few tirades and reminiscences with exactly the right balance of passion and pause. Coates’ Len is the kind of work one waits all season to see. Amorocho is always a professional, emotionally charged actress. The breadth she gives to Suzanne makes her less of a martyr and more of a deeply distressed daughter. The character is prone to rants of frustration, but Amorocho and Messersmith find ways to shade them, allowing for differentiations that keeps them from becoming repetitive.

In the hands of Tyler and Zimmerer, the supporting roles of Jeff and Bob do more than carry the show to the next scene. An example is their ability to take a potentially show-deadening discussion of forgiveness early on, longwinded but vital to the end of the show, and to actually make it lively. Tyler is cheek-pinchingly sweet and loveable, filled with the kinds of ticks and vocal choices that breathe life into plot carriers. Zimmerer, an actor I have had problems connecting with in the past, is really starting to win me over with his breeziness and sincerity. Brooks’ Daniel, a role that screams plot point, is made less of a caricature, though his speedy way of talking makes him hard to understand at points.

With the impossible task of creating four specific locales and two separate times, Gilseth has worked a nice compromise of a set that still creates levels. Through Daniel Davisson’s lighting design, the warmth and sterility of each of the locales is expressed well. A special mention is owed to Bill Osborne’s intricate sound design, one that incorporates what appear to be live Cubs broadcasts seamlessly into the show.