I have a good reason for missing Girl from the North Country during its Broadway run.

Yes, I was intrigued by the idea of a show that fused Bob Dylan songs with a script by Conor McPherson, who also penned Dublin Carol, a play that knocked me on my ass. But jukebox musicals — ones that incorporate existing songstacks — are rarely high on my must-see list when I visit New York.

The show opened in 2020 just six days before the pandemic shutdown. It came back to Broadway later during the cautious return, but I didn’t. 

And now I’m kicking myself for missing this one live.

That’s because the powers that be recorded it for PBS’ Great Performances. The recording captures it in a vibrant, purposeful way, accentuating both the story’s exuberance and melancholy, bringing its Robert Altman-esque world of characters to heartbreaking life.

As in Altman’s better films, there’s a mosaic of characters. Here, the center is a guest house in Duluth, Minn., on the brink of foreclosure during the Great Depression. Much of the weight of that loss rests uncomfortably on the shoulders of Nick Laine (Jay O. Sanders), who is also negotiating life with his wife, Elizabeth (Mare Winningham), who is suffering from dementia. Their son is having trouble holding down a job while their adopted daughter is pregnant without a partner.

That’s the core. But there’s a lot more going on in the house involving various guests and visitors. McPherson’s script, however, keeps all of the relationships understandable while never letting it feel like a soap opera. The raw honesty of the performers — an outstanding ensemble that includes Robert Joy, Jeannette Bayerdelle, Kimber Elayne Sprawl and Luba Mason — keeps it grounded while maintaining its theatricality.

Woven into their longings, their losses, their chance encounters and their feelings spoken and unspoken are the songs — some familiar to those with a passing Dylan interest (“I Want You,” “Forever Young”) and others much deeper cuts. They are not, however, used in traditional musical theater ways. Here, songs don’t pause the action for fun dance breaks, articulate heightened and unspoken feelings or otherwise further character and plot. These do something more elusive. The music takes over the stage, the narrative and the character arcs, sliding gracefully into a different realm. Todd Almond, a performer in the show and author of Slow Train Coming: Bob Dylan’s Girl from the North Country and Broadway’s Rebirth, described it as “Like awake, then dreaming. Or like sermon, then hymn.” 

I couldn’t articulate this magic any better.

Although these people all seem trapped in a downward spiral, McPherson hasn’t created a hopeless world. While never downplaying the brutal challenges these folks face, Girl from the North Country, often rough and cynical and full of loss, still manages a special kind of beauty. Seeing these characters come together in various combinations in song, sharing their joys and pains and passions, means that somehow human connection will give us the strength to keep going.

And if that wasn’t enough, Winningham — with bold, unexpected choices and a mix of truth-talking, catatonia and childlike innocence — gives the screen performance of the year. P.S.: McPherson is directing a film version with Olivia Colman, Woody Harrelson and Chlöe Bailey. If it comes even close to the power of this shot-from-the-stage version, we are in for something special. But whether that version is successfully translated or not, I’m thrilled this version exists. 

Girl from the North Country is available through PBS Passport.