The subject of Annie Baker’s Infinite Life is something many people may not want to think about: chronic illness. It’s a theatrical magic trick, then, that this frank, unflinching play, presented by Third Rail Repertory and directed by Rebecca Lingafelter at CoHo Theatre, also happens to be very funny.

Five women, plus one bare-chested man, have come to a Northern California fasting clinic to find relief from their various illnesses, some of which cause constant pain in addition to the nausea, weakness, and mental fog that comes with the fasting itself. As unsettling as their pain is, the production also treats us to wickedly comic moments, as when Ginnie (Damaris Webb) relentlessly addresses newcomer Sofi (Maureen Porter), a 47-year-old woman suffering from an excruciating bladder problem, and then says Sofi probably wants her to shut up. In response, Sofi slowly and pointedly says, “No, I don’t want you to shut up,” in a way that clearly states nothing would make her happier than if Ginnie would in fact shut her trap.

For a show that’s largely about communication, it’s ironic that the script’s long silences are as enthralling as its sharp dialogue. While the audience is still taking their seats, Sofi sits on a drab lounge chair and quietly reads a book. At the October 25 opening-night show, Porter might have been on stage for roughly 10 to 15 minutes before a single line was spoken, but her subtly absorbing performance spoke volumes, as she furrowed her brow or flipped back a page to reread a sentence, while also putting her hand to her leg or abdomen as her pain flared. Later, we learn that in spite of her affliction, she’s trying to trudge through George Eliot’s Daniel Deronda, a dense Victorian novel that can be a Waterloo for modern readers who are feeling perfectly well.

All the characters have their own ways of slogging through life in the face of physical misery. Yvette (Kathy Hsieh) relies on wearing a bright orange dress and multicolored sneakers (just one of the meticulously designed costumes by Wanda Walden) and keeping a sunny face even as she breathlessly recites a comically long list of ailments, which ends with her saying she has breast cancer. Her roommate, Ginnie, copes with the help of a literal bag of tricks: a zippered kit full of makeup that she applies with expertise, briskly powdering and buffing her face with various implements. At one point, looking miffed at the shirtless Nelson (Rolland Walsh), she hilariously wields a tube of lipstick like a weapon.

Peter Ksander’s set design, which features a bland brick wall and a row of drab beige chairs, creates a minimalist décor as lacking in nourishment as the bottles of water the patients are barely subsisting on. The only touches of nature are some spindly potted plants and a few bird sounds, which emphasize the devastating sense of isolation that often accompanies serious illness. As Sofi puts it, her troubles separate her from “the normal happy people.”

While some of Baker’s dialogue is disturbingly graphic, it’s also admirable in that it frankly talks about human bodies in a way that’s often taboo in everyday conversation. Eileen, in particular, attempts to adhere to more traditional social rules, referring to the bathroom as “the powder room” and walking away after Sofi curses. Portrayed with elegant warmth by LaRhonda Steele, Eileen persists in presenting herself as a beautifully groomed church lady dressed in pink loungewear and matching floral earrings. Even after  a surreal night scene where she says, “This was the night you heard me scream” and the “pain feels like hellfire,” she calmly insists she’s fine and later mothers Sofi, fetching a hat to cover her face from the sun.

In Sofi’s case, her estranged husband literally doesn’t want to hear about her suffering, and repeatedly ignores her texts and calls. Leaving him a voicemail, she says she wishes he could experience a pain like hers for five seconds so he could have an inkling of what she’s dealing with 24 hours a day. She also doubts herself, wondering if her condition has turned her into a selfish monster who engaged in an “emotional affair” to help distract her from being sick.

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It’s telling that Sofi only gradually tells the other women about her illness, and goes into detail about her symptoms only when talking with Nelson, who shows her photos of his cancer-ridden colon, a scene that calls into question the idea that women are naturally more supportive than men. On the other hand, when Elaine (Karen Trumbo), who’s dealing with Lyme disease, leaves the clinic first, she takes a long, silent look at the other women before wishing each of them well on their “healing journeys.” And another scene, in which Sofi comforts Eileen, may be one of the quietest and most genuinely moving moments you’ll ever see on a stage.

Baker is too aware of the complexities of human existence to suggest that we can magically cure each other of our physical or emotional suffering. Still, her characters remain capable of profound tenderness in the face of their torment.

***

Infinite Life is onstage through November 10 at CoHo Theatre, 2257 N.W. Raleigh St., Portland. Tickets: https://thirdrailrep.org/.