"The longer you know someone, the less you can say," whispers one of Rogers' characters near the play's end. We have learned a lot by then, perhaps even too much. So this poignant sonata of grief called Madagascar closes like a perfect chamber score, in powerful silence, in rest. Yet, there is something distressingly familiar about the unhappiness that drenches the family at the heart of Madagascar.June, Lillian, and Nathan, as written by this playwright and as intelligently directed by Martinez, come alive. All three have been hurt in some way, and each could use a rest. And as the play jumps madly from past to present to fantasy, all three come to grips with the unknown. It is a devastating, improbably quiet moment of truth.