When translated from a two hundred and fifty page classic to a three-and-a-half hour independent play, Ernest Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises (assuming the title The Select in its theatre run) blossoms into an intense and charming piece of drama. Much of the premise in Hemingway’s novel remains intact in the transition from text to stage; director John Collins maintains 1920s Paris as the backdrop for the love-driven tangles between the mix of American and British characters.

The play takes its name from the Café Select, a winery and bar heavily frequented over the play’s course, brought to full-fledged life on the New York Theatre Workshop’s nearly 46- by 31-foot stage. Tens of wine bottles line the shelves along the ceiling’s perimeter. Two long, sleek wooden bar tables run the stage’s width, dotted with absinthe, liquors, and Scotch and wine glasses. A bartending stand, busboy station, upholstered wooden chairs, and artfully tacky wall décor drive the Café Select setting to complete authenticity. (Not to mention the iconic apathetic waiter played by Ben Williams.) This grandiose setting is not without versatility, however; skillful lighting changes and chair arrangements cue a shift in location—notably a single front stage spotlight and two lone, centered chairs for intimate taxi scenes.

Mike Iveson stars as World War I veteran-turned-journalist Jake Barnes, threading together the play’s length as sharp narrator. Iveson’s composed and precise ease of narrative style turns intensely relatable alongside Australian actor Lucy Taylor as divorced, wine-guzzling flapper Brett Ashley. Hindered by Jake’s subtly-hinted war wound, the would-be lovers only mingle in intermittent but profound bursts, underscoring the play’s witty, upper-class man-to-man banter with spirited passion.  Their relationship deepens despite its sexual limitations, at once enlivening and frustratingly imperfect.  Jake and Brett’s richly symbolic and emotional exchanges, poignant in their fleeting, short-lived urgency, offer a staunch contrast to the hedonistic troubles discussed in the Café Select.  When their bond is threatened by unhappily married Jewish author (and Brett’s former, one-time lover) Robert Cohn, The Select begins ascending toward an inevitably explosive apex.

Mike Tierney’s complex depiction of Robert as both a submissive husband and love-driven mench elevates his character past an awkward, comic-relieving foil. Gracing the stage as the dominant wife in question is Kate Scelsa, who through sharp facial nuances and effortless dramatic versatility conjures a bold portrayal of nagging, jealous, and ever-crying emotional roller coaster Frances. Inspired by an exotic love novel set in South America, Robert longs to move to a Spanish country, watch the corridas, and at last be free of Frances’s tight and embarrassing reigns. As Brett’s presence grows stronger, he shifts his dreamy talk to action, embarking on a Spain-bound trip. Brett, her new fiancé Mike, Jake, and alcoholic acquaintance Bill Gorton (another modestly striking Ben Williams character) all eventually find themselves in Spain.

The change in setting shakes The Select’s growingly conventional direction far outside of its comfort zone. Seductive young bullfighter Pedro Romero (played by Susie Sokol) cracks the ground beneath Mike, Jake, and Robert’s feet as Brett impulsively rushes into lust. A convoluted twist of circumstances drips the play’s last few moments to a wrenchingly realistic close that is a climax in its own right.

Partially to account for The Select’s magnetic appeal is Hemingway’s subliminal and keen literary approach. A mixed cast of seasoned and new performers further pushes Hemingway’s text to full theatric potential. Tactful and intelligent, The Select unfolds like a modern saga. Though neither short nor sweet, The Select gloriously showcases the complexities hiding behind the frivolous, boozy age of New Freedom.