I just came home from seeing My Name is Lucy Barton at the Bluma Appel theatre, in Canadian Stage’s new production of Rona Munro’s 2018 adaptation of Elizabeth Strout’s 2016 novel of the same name.

It felt so close to home.

The lady sitting behind me was discussing particulars of a nursing home with the person beside her. I was reading a message on my mobile phone about my own family’s caregiving situation.

The theatre was largely filled with senior citizens, meaning people who are of this sandwich generation caught between our responsibilities worrying about children and parents, watching a story that, except for its focus on New York and American history, could be our own story.

I was torn. While the theatre critic in me was sometimes bemused by questions of process, I was sucked into Maev Beaty’s dynamic storytelling, forgetting myself more than a few times.

Before we started I wondered how much of the direction is in the script as stage directions, as opposed to ideas coming from actor Maev and director Jackie Maxwell. But before long I was hooked, more or less blown away by the brilliance of what I was seeing.

But it helps that the script starts with some simple exposition to get us to accept Maev as Lucy in her hospital room and the arrival of her mother to join her in the room, also played by Maev. We will watch an uninterrupted 105 minute tour de force from a single actor onstage, enjoying the mix of pathos and comedy, beginning with a stunning use of the human voice. Any theatre aficionado will be swept away by Maev’s vulnerability, body language, and astonishing energy. If anything she’s stronger at the end than at the beginning.

I felt that the subtleties of the sound design were tremendously important, Jacob Lin offering something just at the threshold of audibility for a good 90 minutes of the show, only venturing into something louder for a sort of coda in the last ten minutes or so. It meant that Maev’s delivery was almost always underscored very slightly, a gently upbeat music barely perceptible.

Similarly the visuals were also very understated, as we were not offered much in the way of illusion, between the set & costume design by Michael Gianfrancesco, and projections from Amelia Scott. But I think theatre-goers likely will gobble up a show that invites you to use your imagination, visualizing the spaces where the characters are seen as well as the other faraway spaces that we hear in descriptions and reminiscences. It felt like I watched a complex life story presented with great clarity, the simplicity of the stage picture inviting the viewer to be swallowed up in the storytelling. It’s very compelling on every level.

My Name is Lucy Barton continues at the Bluma Appel from Canadian Stage until at least Sunday November 3rd.