It’s always been a poignant image: the old soldier, “memory fading with the medal ribbons that he wears… one more forgotten hero and a world that doesn’t care”. But in this impeccable Fortune production we have not one but three heroes, and therein lies the joyful difference – they care about one another.

Trapped in the Veterans’ Hospital in 1959 by their various war injuries, ruthlessly ruled by diminutive nuns, the old WW1 soldiers may find life monotonous, but with each other for company it’s neither lonely nor tragic. 

The gentle, charming script by French playwright Gerald Sibleyras is given a brilliant translation by word-wizard Tom Stoppard. It’s less tricksy than Stoppard’s own work, though occasionally reminiscent of his existentialist Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. It may not astonish, but it’s so engaging you don’t want to miss a word.

The veterans sit on their beautiful terrace looking out on windswept poplars, and grumble and tease and plot mischief.  Nothing to do but wait for the end.  So far, so Waiting for Godot, but Heroes is more accessible and less profound. The old men are not smelly at all, but very dapper in their three-piece suits, well-groomed beards and shiny medals, and being in their company is like a mellow afternoon with favourite grandfathers.  

Once again director Lara McGregor (what a great appointment that has turned out to be!) has ensured the Fortune’s production values are first-class, and the play, set in 1959, has an authentic period atmosphere. The luscious, imaginatively packed programme includes a touching acknowledgement of the real Montecillo veterans who shared their memories with the Fortune.  

McGregor’s design team – Matt Best (set), Maryanne Wright-Smyth (costume), Peter King (lighting), Lindsay Gordon (sound) – have succeeded in realising her vision of a hand-tinted photograph from the Great War. The set is so lovely it has me yearning for a holiday in France: flagstones curve beneath the peeling plaster of warm terracotta walls covered with sprawling vines, enhanced by the softest of lighting.

Among the pots of lavender sits the stone statue of a huge dog. It looks suspiciously like Nana the St Bernard who guarded the Darling children from Peter Pan, just as these old warriors are treated as nursery babes and hindered from adventure, and provokes plenty of gentle comedy.

The old soldiers are beautifully dressed, with admirable attention to detail. French music captures the mood, sometimes ironically, while birdsong foreshadows the uplifting ending.

The acting is sublime, with the experienced cast inhabiting their roles absolutely. All three veterans of course suffer from disabilities, which are skilfully maintained, yet they are given a lively physicality, culminating in some serious clowning involving ludicrous plans to rope themselves together for a river crossing.  Verbally the actors crackle, firing off throwaway lines or soaring lyrically, always hitting the right note.

Peter Hayden, in an interesting departure from recent ‘cuddly’ roles, plays Gustave the natural leader magnificently, with stiff bearing and sardonic delivery.  He lets us share the grand scale of Gustave’s dreams, whether it is of escape to Indochina, or making absurd plans for the stone dog.  

Simon O’Connor is riveting as romantic enthusiast Henri, unforgettable in his rhapsodic excitement as he recounts his discovery of a school for young girls in the vicinity. O’Connor endows Henri with such charm that this dubious interest comes across as mere Gallic appreciation of feminine pulchritude.

Philippe, the quietest of the trio, inclined to fall asleep periodically due to the shrapnel in his brain, is convincingly realised by Geoffrey Heath. I particularly enjoy his wonderfully paranoid conviction that the nun who runs the place is prone to bumping off residents if they share a birth date with another, thus messing up her birthday celebrations.

The chemistry between the actors seems real and delightful, like the mutual affection of the characters. Whether they are regaining some vestige of military glory by plotting a violent campaign to defend their terrace, or planning a more modest picnic on the hill of the windswept poplars, it is clear that friendship is what makes life worth living.

So what might appear a melancholy premise for a play becomes, in the Fortune’s expert hands, a joyous celebration of life. With its mixture of pathos and gallantry Heroes is universal, and a reminder to cherish our elders, those who made our history, while we can. 

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In a French veterans’ home, three old soldiers gather daily on a sunny, slightly dilapidated terrace graced by a stone dog. Their camaraderie is necessary, but sometimes defensive and fragile. Their chat is mostly about the home’s other occupants, and their reminiscences seldom touch on the war.

Gradually they hatch a plan for an expedition somewhere beyond the nearby cemetery – to Indochina, perhaps, or maybe just as far as the poplars on the horizon. The dog, naturally, will accompany them.

If you enjoy the low-key humour, gentle pace and quirky characters of The Last of the Summer Wine, you’ll like Heroes. Geoffrey Heath, who comes from Christchurch, and Dunedin actors Peter Hayden and Simon O’Connor draw out the idiosyncrasies if Philippe, Gustave and Henri, each distinguished by social class, attitudes, and degrees of adventurousness and infirmity.

Although French accents are not used, there’s a strong sense of the Gallic in the characters’ clothing and mannerisms. The set, as director Lara Macgregor explains in a programme note, is inspired by faded, hand-painted First World War photographs. The music is unmistakably French (Edith Piaf, Maurice Chevalier), but the background sound of twittering European birds is just loud enough to be more distracting than atmospheric.

Gérard Sibleyras’ play is a gem. It steers a confident course between sentimentality and the remembered horrors of war and it touches, not always pleasantly, on the comforts, perils and absurdity of old age. Tom Stoppard’s translation from the French is sensitive and witty, and the play won the 2006 Olivier Award for Best New Comedy. Originally titled Le Vent des Peupliers (The Wind in the Poplars), it was renamed to avoid confusion with The Wind in the Willows – with which, incidentally, it shares a fair amount of impractical charm.  

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