While studying fiction-writing, I was once reminded by an instructor that generally, when people who are close argue, the topic that’s the starting point is almost never what the fight is really about. Bickering about dirty socks on the floor, for example, could be about one partner feeling unappreciated, or trapped, or any number of things — and I was to keep this in mind when writing stories.

D. H. Lawrence was never one for rules, though, and “Women in Love” — now on stage at the Blackbird Theatre, thanks to director Barton Bund’s new adaptation — depicts characters having rigorously intellectual arguments that, from the start, get right to the heart of the matter.

That’s easier said than done, of course, so the involved parties go round and round, struggling to articulate complex, subjective philosophies about politics, marriage, society, etc. while going about the business of living.

The women of the book/play’s title are sisters Ursula (Jamie Weeder) and Gudrun (Luna Alexander) — a teacher and an artist, respectively, living in early 20th century England. Ursula falls for the poor school inspector, Rupert (Steven Alan O’Brien), while Gudrun finds herself drawn to coal heir Gerald (Jon Ager).

And while it flies in the face of the title, “Women in Love,” the highly charged relationship that develops between Rupert and Gerald is ultimately the play’s narrative engine. (The production features nudity and is recommended for mature audiences.)

Far from shying away from the novel’s famous male nude wrestling scene — in which Gerald and Rupert quite literally try to get a grip on each other — writer/director Bund opens the second act with it and lets it take its time to develop into precisely what it is: a consummation that’s both frustrating and a release for the two men involved.

More generally, Bund effectively captures the feel and language of Lawrence’s novel, paring it down to essentials while (usually) offering just enough information for the audience to piece together where the characters are in each scene.

At certain times, though, I couldn’t see the actual actors on the stage. The SH\aut\ space in Braun Court, the Blackbird's new home, has been arranged in a cabaret style for the show, with patrons seated at round tables on three sides. While those situated at the sides got a full view of the action, those of us seated at back tables in front of the performance space were left to ponder, several times, what exactly was happening downstage right. This occasionally led to confusion, and in one woeful instance, following a blistering exchange between Ursula and Rupert, it appeared that Ursula had stormed off the stage when, in fact, she hadn’t.

Plus, Bund uses a recorded montage of arguments in one scene, which felt jarring and didn’t, in my mind, add enough to make the disruption worthwhile.

Overall, however, Bund stages the play creatively and well, not allowing the physical action to become so busy as to detract from the characters’ philosophical sparring, but not letting the production ever stand still too long and visually stagnate, either.

All four leads provided strong performances on opening night. O’Brien and Ager are absolutely fearless while baring all, physically and emotionally, and Weeder and Alexander make the play’s sister scenes powerfully magnetic. (Indeed, Alexander regularly provided energy and spark to the two-hours-plus production, and her last scene with Ager will likely catch you holding your breath.)

Bund, meanwhile, cast himself in the small roles of Loerke and Julius, and while the execution was fine on opening night, the double-casting feels distracting in such an intimate context.

Regarding technical elements, Brian Carbine provides the production with an appropriate, short bit of choreography for the women to perform, and Dave Early’s fight choreography makes both the wrestling scene and the climax hauntingly memorable. Sarah Lucas’ lighting design is affecting without being heavy-handed, and Dana Sutton’s Bohemian costumes, while surprising at first, come to feel more and more apt as the show progresses. (Only Julius’ black robe, which called Harry Potter to mind, stuck out to me.)

Fans of Lawrence’s work will likely find much to enjoy and admire in Bund’s gutsy stage adaptation. And while those previously unacquainted with Lawrence may be taken aback by the extensive, heady, theoretical discussions that the characters have with each other, moments like Ursula asking Rupert, “Why aren’t I enough?” cut through the philosophy to show a woman in pain — something to which we can all relate.

Jenn McKee is the entertainment digital journalist for AnnArbor.com. Reach her at jennmckee@annarbor.com or 734-623-2546, and follow her on Twitter @jennmckee.