On one level, Lisa Kron’s anarchically entertaining “Well” is highly representative of today’s theater scene. So many shows have become so self-referential that it’s easy to forget that a world exists beyond TKTS. “Spamalot,” “Bridge and Tunnel,” “[title of show],” “Dirty Rotten Scoundrels”: Suddenly the industry hasn’t met a “meta” it didn’t like, and “Well” unapologetically out-navel-gazes all the others.

And yet Ms. Kron’s beguiling reflection on the limits of autobiography, which had a successful off-Broadway run in 2004, is one of a kind. Without stinting on laughs or the satisfactions of a vigorously examined life, Ms. Kron (who also plays herself) and asks a thorny question: Can your life story ever truly be your own? Or do your family and your shared experiences lay their own powerful, unignorable claims on the past?

If this sounds overly cerebral, not to worry. As first her mother and then her co-stars disrupt the proceedings, Ms. Kron’s unsparing wit saves “Well” from lapsing into a Pirandellian haze of scenes within scenes. Even when Leigh Silverman’s effervescent direction succumbs occasionally to whimsy, Ms. Kron’s rueful intelligence – coupled with a towering performance by Jayne Houdyshell as the exasperating and lovable Ann Kron – turns this flawed, respectful, contentious mother-daughter pairing into a warm and rather wonderful love story.

Ms. Kron has wrestled with various theatrical conventions as part of the pioneering Five Lesbian Brothers, but her solo works (“101 Humiliating Stories,” “2.5-Minute Ride”) have been more traditional. Not anymore: This “solo show with other people in it,” as she describes “Well,” dismantles the rules of narrative until barely a wall, scene, or long-held conviction is left standing. And as Ms. Kron learns along the way, “this avant-garde metatheatrical thing will just bite you in your ass!”

Her plan is to present a primer on why her mother has spent her life debilitated by a “family mystery illness” described as an extreme case of allergies, why Lisa used to suffer similar symptoms but got better, and how their families’ health paralleled that of their Lansing, Mich., neighborhood as it underwent racial integration in the 1960s. Ann Kron was an instrumental member of the neighborhood association at the time. “The two main things we believe in as a family,” her somewhat incredulous daughter explains, “are allergies and racial integration.”

But Lisa’s carefully crafted tale, which includes her own stay in an allergy clinic during college, goes off the rails for two reasons. For one thing, there’s Lori Jones (Saidah Arrika Ekulona), a 9-year-old black girl who used to mock little Lisa mercilessly; her unbidden appearances are a manifestation of Lisa’s darker memories of growing up in a diverse neighborhood. These scenes best show off Tony Walton’s versatile set and Christopher Akerlind’s exquisite lighting, which encapsulate the cluttered realism of Ann’s living room as well as Lisa’s equally messy abstractions.

The more frequent disruptions, however, come from Ann herself. Simultaneously interrupting, rambling, apologizing, undermining, correcting, and asking other cast members if they’d like something to drink, Ann Kron is at once the hurricane in Lisa’s life and the calming eye at the center of it. (“My mother is a fantastically energetic woman trapped in an utterly exhausted body. It’s very confusing.”) Lisa wisely cedes center stage on several occasions to Ms. Houdyshell, whose performance is a masterpiece of befuddled (and befuddling) naturalism.

As Ann good-naturedly discusses her burgeoning social consciousness and the crippling effects of her “allergies,” it becomes almost impossible not to share Lisa’s awe at this proud woman as well as her insistence on putting some distance between the two: “I remember thinking – I am sick. And you are sick. But I am not like you.” Lisa is, of course, very much like her mother in very many ways, and one of the many pleasures of “Well” comes from seeing Ann pick away at Lisa’s defenses and expose those similarities.

The Krons’ banter takes a scene or two to click into place, but their feud escalates into a touching and generous examination of the necessity and danger of leaving one’s parents behind. When it comes to recriminations, those ravaged Beales over at “Grey Gardens” have a new mother-daughter tandem to contend with. And for all their past and present ailments, I wouldn’t count the Krons out for a second.

Ms. Silverman’s direction, so crisp and intuitive during the mother-daugh ter scenes, hits a few snags during the group scenes, which often tip from clever into cloying. (Daniel Breaker, John Hoffman, and the compelling Christina Kirk round out the supporting cast.) And the parallel between racial integration and debilitating allergies never really gets resolved.

But maybe it’s not supposed to. Maybe Lisa Kron is making the point that the world around will remain unknowable unless you can understand the other people under your roof. Her own discoveries on that score come from a handful of devastating (and surprisingly funny) twists near the end.

By the time Ann Kron makes one final, altogether unexpected appearance, again courtesy of the marvelous Ms. Houdyshell, “Well” has both subverted and fulfilled its initial promise: the sight of flawed but decent people making more sense to themselves and to those around them. And as a result, the New York theater season just got a little healthier.

(220 W. 48th Street, between Broadway and Eighth Avenue, 212-239-6200).