WEDDING season is not over yet, and the National Theatre’s West End transfer of Till the Stars Come Down is a compelling show all of its own. It’s like one of Larkin’s Whitsun Weddings scenes brought to life, with a full backstory and razor-sharp detail. The playwright Beth Steel has soaked herself in Greek tragedy, which bears lush if bitter fruit. So many families have old secrets and long-held enmities. So often these come to a head at weddings.

Sinéad Matthews is Sylvia, getting ready on the morning of her big day with her sisters, Hazel (Lucy Black), who has stayed in Mansfield — married, with children — and skittish Maggie (Aisling Loftus), who has moved away. Children float at the edges, both onstage and off. In screeches, Aunty Carol is given full foul-mouthed sail by Dorothy Atkinson. It is Lady Bracknell in Coronation Street. The girls’ mother died some years ago, and Carol tries to plug that gap — except that she is overbearing and passive-aggressive. They all tolerate one another through the niggles, with often hilarious moments.

Then there are the men. Alan Williams plays Tony as the sad old dad, proud and tired by life. John (Adrian Bower), his son-in-law, is trapped by life and family, with obvious work and money worries. Marek, the groom (Julian Kostov), is Polish, cheerful, handsome, and doing well with his own new plumbing business. Uncle Pete is Tony’s brother, also an ex-miner, but they haven’t spoken for years since a dispute over crossing the picket line. Each one has his own take on fragile masculinity.

Steel expertly traces the fault lines through this East Midlands community. There is no mention of Brexit, but it seethes throughout. Immigration and the left-behind working classes make for plangent themes. Over the reception meal (a roast with pints of beer), Pete’s roll call of closed pits adds to the sense of faltering identity. A storm breaks up the party; they scatter and regroup around the dancefloor. Events take a dark, shattering turn — because of relationships that cross boundaries, with accusations and repercussions.

Bijan Sheibani’s direction finds the right amount of claustrophobia and breathing space. Paule Constable’s lighting balances well with the set and costumes by Samal Blak. The production values are high.

Faith and the idea of marriage are questioned in this play. Why would anyone do it, and what does it mean? Everything is so wholly believable because the ensemble cast act consistently as one. The ending is all pathos and pain. Steel is a talent, and up there with the best of them.

Till the Stars Come Down runs at the Theatre Royal Haymarket, Haymarket, London SW1, until 27 September. Box office: phone 020 7930 8800. trh.co.uk