Naz Edwards in "Woman Before a Glass."

photo by Jude Walton, courtesy of Performance Network

Peggy Guggenheim - the subject of Lanie Robertson's one-woman show "Woman Before a Glass," now playing at Performance Network Theatre - was clearly the kind of blustery, hard-edged person you’d rather not have to deal with in your own life.

No, much better to hear from this larger-than-life figure at a safe distance, which is precisely the opportunity that “Woman” provides.

Telling the story of the woman who compiled the greatest personal collection of modern art in the 20th century, “Woman” focuses on Guggenheim’s (Naz Edwards) struggle to determine what will happen to her collection after she dies, as well as her complicated relationship with her daughter, Pegeen.

Clocking in at just under 90 minutes (though I’ll confess it felt longer), “Woman” unfolds in four scenes, set when the heiress is in her 60s. The show’s first scene is by far its most vibrant. Guggenheim storms in, complains about her servant, and picks through a pile of designer dresses that spark occasional memories.

The show's scenes get progressively less engaging, however, due in part to the play straining against the conventions of its one-person format. The second scene features Guggenheim occasionally addressing her (off-stage) daughter; the third consists of a series of phone calls received by Guggenheim; and the last is a mere coda, set in a gondola, that feels more self-consciously poetic than narratively satisfying.

The issue, at least in part, is that the show lacks a clear, cohesive arc and, consequently, momentum. Nothing particularly pushes the audience toward the next scene. Yes, Guggenheim is shaken by a major event late in the show; but because we’re only moderately grounded in that particular part of Guggenheim’s life by this point (and because it’s frustratingly dispensed with in the final scene, with no further details offered), the moment’s impact is severely curtailed.

Even so, Edwards - with guidance from director Malcolm Tulip - manages to transcend Robertson’s flawed script to make Guggenheim a sympathetically tragic figure. Rather than veering into caricature, Edwards subtly hints at Guggenheim’s vulnerability while keeping the heiress’ icy persona intact. This makes it hard to simply dismiss and dislike Guggenheim - which is to Edwards’ great credit.

The production’s technical elements are solid, despite occasional heavy-handedness in lighting (Mary Cole) and sound design (Suzi Regan). When Guggenheim begins speaking of her father, for instance, the lights dim, thus signposting an Emotional Moment; and similarly, low-playing music pours it on a bit thick during one or two of the play’s starker passages.

Monika Essen’s set, though, is a work of art in itself. Seeing copies of just a few representative pieces of Guggenheim’s collection strikes just the right balance between conveying the heiress’ tastes in art while not physically overwhelming Edwards in scenery. Plus, Essen’s costumes - particularly an elegant robe worn in the second scene - underscore Guggenheim’s proclivity for treating clothes like the artists she slept with: she collects only the finest, but then treats them carelessly.

There’s the seed of a good story in “Woman,” thanks to Guggenheim being such a fierce, self-sabotaging character; but the script’s scattershot storytelling ultimately keeps that seed from germinating.

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.