MULTIPLICITY: In the Wilma's A Number, Richard Bekins (left) plays the accidental father of 20 clones of Bernard, played by Scott Barrow.

Director Jiri Zizka's production proves disturbing even before it begins: Through a smoky haze, we see curved walls, garishly orange, embracing an oval of thick red carpet. Two bland chairs and an old air conditioner make the room tawdry, while a reflective fixture above seems futuristic, perhaps masking a surveillance camera. Instead of music, we hear eerie buzzes, rumbles and clatter, punctuated by babies' cries.

Salter (Richard Bekins) meets his son, and in clipped dialogue we learn that Bernard (Scott Barrow) is one of "a number." Salter sanctioned one clone, a replacement for the son he abandoned after his wife's demise, but apparently 20 were hatched. Salter, at a loss, focuses on the scientists and suggests suing: "They've damaged your uniqueness, weakened your identity, so we're looking at five million for a start," he offers his stunned progeny.

Churchill's characters debate the large issues we expect—nature versus nurture, perceptions of identity and individuality—as well as intimate concerns about fathers, sons and personal responsibility.

The scruffy, slouching first Bernard gives way to the seething, resentful original. Barrow superbly distinguishes each—genetically identical, but made vastly different by life—as their Cain-Abel tale unfolds through confrontations with Salter. Barrow also plays one of the 20 clones, Michael, who's fascinated by the situation: "We've got 99 percent the same genes as any other person," he remarks in wonder. Salter, a destructive and destroyed man portrayed sympathetically by Bekins, begins to realize that genetic lineage does not a familial bond make.

Zizka's tight, cold production is enhanced by Mimi Lien's unsettling set, John Stephen Hoey's fluid lighting and Janus Stefanowicz's understated costumes. The director also provides his trademark projections, punctuating scenes with grainy images starting with a baby and ending in the unchangeable past of the Bernards' conception: glimpses of a science-fiction future that may be occurring today.

In hindsight, it's amazing that the Wilma hasn't produced any Churchill before now—like their favorite Tom Stoppard, celebrated with multiple productions over the years, her work is both cerebral and humorous, fantastical and pointedly current, and we'd be well served by a similar exploration of her plays.

A NUMBER

Through June 4, Wilma Theater, Broad and Spruce sts., 215-564-7824 or www.wilmatheater.org