Anton Chekhov’s play “The Seagull” is rife with the longing and despair that humans pile on each other, only, perhaps, to be undone by the unyielding passage of time. Aaron Posner borrows all that for his adaptation of that play, “Stupid F**king Bird,” staged with aplomb by an exquisitely cast ensemble at Mad Horse Theatre (now through June 5).

Posner’s take is decidedly up to date (does human despair ever go out of style, really?), leavened with humor in a way that depends mightily on the actors’ timing, and not just for the moments played for obvious laughs.

As in “The Seagull,” the action takes place at a lakeside summer home, with people who know each other all too well. But, though there’s plenty of the kind of modern family dysfunction that plagues many families who gather for whatever reason, there’s also much talk of theater and life. Chekhov’s play does too, but the meta here is brimming — by design, the audience is a bit-player in this production. There’s no play without the audience, of course, but Posner makes sure that’s especially true for “Stupid F**king Bird”; the fourth wall is poked at and even shredded a few times.

Brent Askari as Dev, who’s most resigned to his lot in life yet possibly the happiest, too, is especially delightful, but the production is one of equals. The play is soaked with multi-layered riffs and happenings (“Do you want a Lifesaver?”) that flirt with absurdity without losing its foundation of realness. Conrad (David Bliss) is a young man with a failure-to-launch syndrome. Christine Louise Marshall gives you reasons to love, if not quite like, narcissistic Emma. Shannon Campbell’s Mash is woeful, until finally she gives up. Burke Brimmer’s Trig is arrogant, but we believe he has a reason for that. And poor Nina (Casey Turner), well, we all know what bad choices will get you.

While these actors seem to delight in their opportunities to play for laughs, they also elicit deep feelings for each character, whose foibles are painfully on display. And that only serves to remind us of our own.

“Where was I during my 40s?” asks Sorn (played with rectitude by James Herrera). “I mean, I know I was there. I can show you my tax returns. But where was I?”

On a beautiful late spring Saturday night in South Portland, the house wasn’t full, but the audience was game to play its part. That would have been enhanced if the house were packed, so bring friends and play along.

Luckily, Mad Horse’s intimate black box is suited extremely well for this play. You’ll notice Chekhov, whether you’re familiar with “The Seagull” or not (you needn’t be to fully enjoy this take, though those that are will enjoy yet more layers). As Sorn says: “It’s a wonderful script, I think. Funny and sad… and very true.”

Daphne Howland is a freelance writer based in Portland.

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