In the opening scenes of “Man from Nebraska,” insurance salesman Ken Carpenter and wife Nancy go through the motions of a typical day – church, lunch, a visit to Ken’s mother at the nursing home, TV, bed. Idle remarks punctuate their strained silence. “How’s your steak?” “Good. Yours?”

These languid and awkwardly funny vignettes set the tone for Tracy Lett’s elegiac play. In a production as stark and expansive as the Mid-western landscape, Cygnet Theatre creates a lovely portrait of a man in crisis, on the journey toward self-discovery and recapturing faith.

A late-night crisis leaves Ken moaning on the bathroom floor. He tells his scared and confused wife that he doesn’t believe in God anymore, and that he doesn’t understand the stars. As he tries to describe his sense of doubt and confusion, the stars actually fade from the Nebraska sky projected on Brian Redfern’s simple and elegant set.

Michael Sears leads the well-cast ensemble as the inarticulate Ken, a man who lacks spontaneity and curiosity about the world. Though he speaks little in the beginning, Sears effectively defines the character through a fine-tuned physicality – Ken’s slightly slumping posture, his inability to look Nancy in the eyes.

Robin Christ gives Nancy the right amount of strength, stoicism and vulnerability, at times making hers the more intriguing character. Her husband’s sudden crisis of faith also forces Nancy into an examination of her own life.

On the advice of his reverend (humorous John DeCarlo), Ken decides to get away for a little while to sort things out.

In England, Ken dabbles for the first time in alcohol, drugs, sex, political discussions, philosophy and art. Unable to follow through on an affair with an aggressive American businesswoman (Linda Libby), Ken then befriends a bartender (Monique Gaffney) and her penniless sculptor of a flat mate (Jeffrey Jones).

The longer he indulges in this open-ended journey, the more he alienates his wife and grown daughter Ashley (played terrifically by Amanda Sitton with a blend of Midwest moral stiffness and childish temperament).

Sandra Ellis-Troy and Jack Missett also do fine work in the smaller roles of Ken’s wheelchair-bound mother and the reverend’s randy father.

Though Ken may not find his faith – in fact, he hardly seems to be looking – he does seem to find a sense of contentment and meaning. This being a journey and all, he does find his way back to Nebraska upon the death of his mother. The play’s final scene offers hope that husband and wife will now face the unknowable, unpredictable future together.

In director Francis Gercke’s minimalist vision, projections help establish the shifting locales. Miming actions like eating, sculpting or driving, rather than extensive use of props, keeps the many scene changes fluid.

“Nebraska” is essentially about what happens when a man who has never explored his own motivations, faith or place in the world suddenly begins asking questions. The play largely roams the territory of the personal, the interior – a region as hazy and ethereal as the symbolic fog that obscures the night sky for Ken. Gercke likewise gives the production a dreamlike, poetic quality, aided in large part by Eric Lotze’s atmospheric lighting and Jason Connors’ lush original music for steel guitar.

Despite Cygnet’s fine staging, Lett’s drama seems to run into the same problem Ken does – that is, how to convey broad themes of emptiness, exploration and satisfaction. The best the play can achieve are intimations, a series of moods, which ultimately can be uninteresting to watch.