Six steps on a wheeled stepladder. Once Richard II makes his way down them to meet his usurper in Brian Kulick’s spotty revival of “Richard II,” his fate is sealed. The actual succession, which takes place an act later, is merely a formality.

Mr. Kulick has collaborated with Michael Cumpsty on several Shakespeare productions, including “Hamlet” (also at Classic Stage Company) and “Timon of Athens.” Each has been hobbled by some questionable casting choices; each has ultimately been salvaged by Mr. Kulick’s arresting visual sense and by Mr. Cumpsty’s well-reasoned, beautifully articulated central portrayal. Both of the latter attributes are on invigorating display in this production — and never more clearly than when Mr. Cumpsty’s Richard, facing inevitable ruin, resigns himself to descending that fateful staircase.

Richard II has long been considered one of Shakespeare’s nimblest orators and most inept leaders. Blessed with a deep, if vainglorious gift for gab, the leader repeatedly matches wits with others and comes out on top. What Mr. Kulick grasps is that power struggles aren’t always resolved at the lectern: If one’s stick is big enough, as is the case with Henry Bolingbroke (a respectable Graham Winton), one doesn’t have to speak softly, or smoothly, or even competently. As a chastened Richard soon learns, “They well deserve to have, / That know the strong’st and surest way to get.”

Contrasting Richard’s inward, ruminative style with that of the brash, steamrolling Bolingbroke (soon to be known as Henry IV) is standard directorial procedure — the difference in their speeches all but demands it — but Mr. Kulick adds a whiff of decadence to the proceedings. His Richard is a Caligulaesque epicure, a coke-snorting bisexual whose downfall to the ascetic Bolingbroke is all but assured and even somewhat desired. This approach has an unpleasant tinge of moralism to it, as does Mr. Kulick’s weakness for ostentatiously swishy supporting characters (Robert Dorfman’s campy Claudius in last year’s “Hamlet” and now David Greenspan’s limp-wristed Bagit.)

Mr. Kulick’s “Hamlet” employed a dazzling white box that gradually became soiled with spray paint, mud, and blood. This time, he has a new set designer, Tom Gleeson, but sticks with the black/white/red color scheme. The central visual innovations are a wallsize image of the ruler and a large carpet that can be removed to convey grass or dirt. The giant image, an eyecatching blend of constructivism, Andy Warhol, and George Orwell, is manipulated effectively near the end, and Mr. Kulick also uses the carpet to versatile advantage: When a reeling Richard shrinks his own domain to “that small model of the barren earth / Which serves as a paste and cover to our bones,” the carpet is rolled back just enough to provide him with that pathetic clump of earth.

As anyone who has visited Shakespeare in the Park lately can tell you, New Yorkers have become accustomed to a distressing range in terms of the cast’s comfort with the text. This production follows suit. Mr. Kulick’s performers range from the compelling (George Morfogen’s stalwart Duke of York and Craig Baldwin’s icy Northumberland) to the serviceable (Mr. Winton) to the … less than compelling (Doan Ly’s Queen Isabel).

Mr. Cumpsty, thankfully for us, falls much closer to the upper end of this spectrum. His chiming baritone voice conveys both intelligence and self-satisfaction, a crucial combination for this character. As Richard’s prospects sputter and die, Mr. Cumpsty’s matineeidol chin juts out proudly even as his shoulders sag and his pace slackens. Mr. Cumpsty addresses Bolingbroke’s Act IV attempts at profundity with withering condescension. His reactions draw laughs from the audience, and yet they’re also tragic in their way. Wit is all he has left.The rest is silence.

***

Earlier this summer, Marie Mullen matched her triumphant 1998 performance in Martin McDonagh’s “The Beauty Queen of Leenane” by starring in six of the seven John Millington Synge plays that made up “DruidSynge,” Lincoln Center’s daylong marathon. Now Anna Manahan, Ms. Mullen’s fellow Tony-winning “Beauty Queen” alumna, gets her own multi-character tour de force in her own Irish import, “Sisters.”

Declan Hassett’s “Sisters” may be a smaller undertaking than the towering “DruidSynge,” but this domestic drama about the painful memories shared by two aging sisters (both played by the commanding Ms. Manahan) carries a sneaky punch, like a hearty slice of brown bread with shards of glass nestled inside.

Act I consists of Martha Clooney, who has spent all 70 of her years in a four-room house in the rural town of Knockaree, awaiting the arrival of her younger sister, Mary, who made a name for herself as a Dublin schoolteacher before retiring to Knockaree. Mary, or “The Great One,” as Martha calls her, gets her say in the second half (an indeterminate time has passed since Martha’s previous monologue), when she alternately defends, denies, and recontextualizes her sister’s stories of neglect.

As with any family drama, each sibling has her share of resentments. Martha was Daddy’s little girl, riding on the handlebars of his bicycle to the local pub; Mary preferred the company of her weary, religious mother. Each endured the amorous attentions of a handsome ne’er-do-well named Bob — and each without the other knowing about it.

As with any good family drama, though, the strengths of “Sisters” emerge from the similarities between the siblings, not the differences. Both Ms. Manahan, who is superb in both roles, and director Michael Scott do an excellent job showing the women’s shared sympathies and emotional blind spots. As divergent as the Clooneys’ paths have grown, they recount certain facts (like their mother’s lofty origins) with nearly identical cadences, as if both have absorbed certain ideas unconsciously through countless family tellings and retellings.

Eventually, it surfaces that the sisters’ seemingly disparate lives have dovetailed over the decades with remarkable parallels. Their grievances stretch well beyond the typical familial grudges, and several plot points coalesce tidily (a tad too tidily, one could argue) into a surprisingly combustible mix.

It is here that Mr. Hassett turns Mary and Martha into disciples of the Martin McDonagh school of conflict resolution. Ms. Manahan’s defly calibrated portrayal may be miles away from her unforgettable Mam in “Beauty Queen,” but don’t be lulled by the softer, sadder notes she hits throughout “Sisters.” Sleepy Knockaree, with its widowed sergeant and its church choir, is not so terribly far from Leenane, after all.

“Richard II” until October 15 (136 E. 13th St., between Third and Fourth avenues, 212-352-3101).

“Sisters” until October 15 (59 E. 59th St., between Park and Madison avenues, 212-279-4200).