Brian Friel's achingly beautiful 1979 play about the disintegration of Ireland's gentry, "Aristocrats," is so Chekhovian, you keep expecting his distinguished family to put down the whiskey bottle and start swigging tea from a samovar. There is a palpable irony to the title, since Friel shows a once grand Irish Catholic family cocooned in make-believe and falling apart in the 1970s. The country house they strive to maintain, a kind of Ballybeg Brideshead, is in disrepair. The patriarch, a former judge, is a stricken figure whose authoritarian ramblings we hear through a baby monitor. Of the three daughters we see, one is a careworn coper, another a London-based lush and the third a chronic depressive. Meanwhile, their sibling, Casimir, is a fey fantasist steeped in false memories and talking, somewhat improbably, of the wife and three children he has in Hamburg.