Reunion: A Musical Epic in Miniature (by Jack Kyrieleison, Ron Holgate, and Michael O’Flaherty) has an unmistakable Ken Burns sensibility. From its stream of archival images to its reliance on firsthand accounts brought to life by understated recitation, the musical seeks to revisit and honor a conflict now one hundred fifty years old, letting the relics and recollections of the time speak for themselves without over-romanticizing. As directed by Travis W. Walter, the production at Meadow Brook Theatre is a multimedia accomplishment, two hours of stimuli and song that trace the progression of the Civil War as experienced by a handful of representative citizens of the Union.

In its historical-museum setting, designer Brian Kessler offers a visual smorgasboard, with myriad photos and exhibits lent additional veracity by targeted, reverently preservational lighting courtesy of Reid G. Johnson. This largely untouched, multi-level backdrop provides not only a fitting atmosphere to revive history, but an easy-flowing canvas on which to create dynamic stage pictures, of which there is no shortage here. Liz Moore’s costume design aims for historical accuracy and, to this untrained eye, appears to hit the mark. Above and behind the performers are a trio of projection screens, adding another perspective in the form of portraits, battlefield photographs, and newspaper headlines. There is something to take in onstage, from top to bottom, at all times, but careful pacing and precision cues by stage manager Terry W. Carpenter keep the flow of information smooth and manageable, never overwhelming.

“Epic” covers the daunting timeline of the Civil War, from just before Abraham Lincoln’s election to the presidency until just after his assassination; “miniature” concerns the distilled core cast of six. Leading the players is Harry Hawk (Tobin Hissong), who spends most of the show in the guise of other characters, but reveals a unique vantage point in a key scene. The others make similar shifts, but each has a primary character, such as battlefield nurse Cordelia Hopewell (Leslie Ann Handelman) and infantry soldier Tom Trudgett (Rob Arbaugh). Lincoln himself does not appear, but is given a mouthpiece in his secretary and close confidante, Augustin Lovecraft (Eric Gutman), who also provides personal insight into the president’s moods and actions. Because all of the text is lifted directly from actual correspondence and other texts, characters are rarely able to talk directly to each other, but Walter’s keen feel for the material blends soliloquy and conversational approximation and allows the actors to connect and flourish in a kind of storytelling limbo. In particular, the stunted exchanges between the president (via Gutman) and do-nothing General McLellan (a deliriously self-confident Hissong) are made both amusing and enlightening; highlighting their communicative divide gives the viewer an accessible entry point to comprehend the Union’s military strategy. Emotionally, no one can touch the mind-blowing reaction of Cassandra Drumwright (Satori Shakoor) to the announcement of the Emancipation Proclamation, an eruption of joy and infectious fervor that marks a high point of the production.

Supplementing the narrative is a catalog of more than two dozen period songs in a variety of styles, with many providing direct commentary on the times; vocal and instrumental parts are superbly mixed by sound designer Mike Duncan. Musical director Stacy White and a seven-piece band make these numbers crisp and moving, with playful in-the-moment choreography by Jennifer George-Consiglio; voices are strong in solos (in particular the imposing resonance of David Aron Danane) but excel in full-cast harmony, joined by supporting ensemble Christopher Tefft and Renee Turner. One drawback of the heavy use of songs and score is that the tone always has a chipper edge — either the subject matter is optimistic and the song reflects it, or a dire moment is juxtaposed or abutted by an obliviously cheery number, passing over opportunities for the viewer to fully indulge in the gravity and loss discussed so frankly.

This production of Reunion is unquestionably well-executed by its strong cast and design team, but for all its historical accuracy, the content can be troubling in its narrow scope. Other than a brief interjection by John Wilkes Booth, the characters are Union supporters across the board (and many of them civilians), which throws a hopefully naive wash over what present-day Americans generally understand to be a period unparalleled in its brutality and hardship. Combined with the understandably rah-rah nature of the songs, the atmosphere is unwaveringly patriotic and upbeat — one exception, the painful moment in which Arbaugh recounts his character’s leg amputation in a field hospital, is too quickly thrown over for the next event. Still, given a script that insists on documentary rather than drama, Walter and company deliver handily on that promise; history buffs should find much to appreciate, as will any viewer primed to absorb and learn from a history lesson brought skillfully to life.