Anyone who has ever visited a relative in a rest home will immediately identify with the residents of the Santa Lucia rest home where Honora Lee is residing, one of the central characters in Circa Theatre’s latest production, The ACB with Honora Lee.

The play is also about her 9-year-old granddaughter Perry (Lauren Gibson) and the frequent visits she makes to see her gran, which she finds much more interesting than having to do after-school tennis.

But Honora (Ginette McDonald) has early stage dementia and memory loss and so, as an ex-teacher, she thinks Perry is one of her pupils. [More] 

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To begin at the end, I find myself unaccountably moved by this play and production; I’m surprise to find myself unable to speak without choking up. Something has worked at a deep level and although I still don’t know whether it’s personal or universal, it would be remiss not to mention this.

At face-value Kate De Goldi’s The ACB with Honora Lee is a child-like tale about the relationship an only-child (Perry) develops with her demented Gran (Honora Lee), a resident of the Santa Lucia Rest Home.

Perry’s always-busy Dad (Honora’s son), who is concerned for the planet and specializes in Sustainable Business Practice, calls his mother’s dementia “eccentricity”. Perry’s always-busy psychologist Mum is concerned about her daughter’s educational standards and keeping her fully-scheduled with after-school activities. Both pay Perry the most attention when they want to correct her grammar.

Perry, who is aged about nine and loves to draw more than write, although she is very inquisitive about the meanings of words, also spends time with a pre-schooler (Claude) and his mother (Nina), who has plenty of time for them. Their main interest, when they’re together, is the bumble bees that fall to the ground and die.

It is the cancellation of Thursday Movement classes and Perry’s extreme dislike of tennis that leads to her visiting Gran every week, by herself. Strangely it seems that Perry has not known her Gran before a recent weekend visit with her Dad; she feels no loss of an earlier special relationship. And Honora’s dementia means she doesn’t recognise her son or her granddaughter although she is very close to her best friend Doris, even if she does call her Molly.

When Perry realises Honora has reverted to her teaching role, she plays along by developing an anarchic (out-of-order) alphabet book which becomes The ACB with Honora Lee. Maybe it is this simple Zen-like acceptance of what’s so, and the way it generates creativity in Perry and moments of value for Honora, that stirs my deeper feelings. (Sudden bouts of faith in humanity tend to have this effect on me.)

In ways that anyone and everyone can relate to, De Goldi’s subtly-crafted story, fluently adapted and directed for the stage by Jane Waddell, addresses abiding questions about life and death and how we relate to each other in between. Despite the flaws each character has – or rather because of them – a profound and insightful humanity anchors what plays out above with a delightful lightness of touch.

There is artistry at every level. Animated images of Perry’s pictures – storyboarded by Stephen Blackburn, drawn by Romi O’Sullivan, produced as an AV presentation by Jason Longstaff – pop up, buzz and drift across the latticed back wall of Andrew Foster’s simply-furnished set, lit by Phil Blackburn, operated by Deb McGuire. Recorded music (played by Bill Lake, Nick Bollinger, Andrew Clouston, Stephen Roche and Andrea Robinson) enhances the imagery along with John McKay’s sound design. Sheila Horton’s costume designs deftly characterise the multiple roles (and allow for the many quick changes).

Lauren Gibson is simply superb as the innocent yet intuitively wise Perry, capturing each moment of wonder, frustration, joy and sadness as she navigates the convolutions of life. It’s impossible not to empathise with her, no matter how much less awkward and more grown up we like to think we are.

In counterpoint, yet likewise living ‘in the moment’, Ginette McDonald’s Honora Lee compels our compassion even though she is compulsively cranky and off in her own world most of the time. Her closeness to Doris-cum-Molly tells us she can be loving, which poignantly accentuates the absence of any overt expressions of affection towards her own family.

Her stock phrases – “That’ll be the frosty Friday” etc – are endearing, especially when picked up by Perry. The way Honora lights up when recalling one of the wacky rhymes and jingles she used to teach with, so her pupils would find the pie in piece, know how to spell difficulty and so on, is both fun and sobering as we come to realise what a lively mind is here o’erthrown.

As Perry’s parents, Amy Tarleton and Nick Dunbar are so cold and distant, to start with, that I find it hard to believe they are familiar with each other and their daughter. But it gives them somewhere to go and one of the production’s subtle touches is the gradual softening of their strictness as Perry’s inate humanity rubs off on them. I would like to sense more depth of feeling in the Dad’s response to his mother’s failure to recognise him, however.  

Tarleton contrasts the brittle, professional Mum with a soft and caring Nina, and rest home residents Eleanor and Beverley, one of whom is touchingly eloquent in her silence. Dunbar also sketches in a couple of rest home chaps – Melvyn and Geoffrey – to comic effect.  

If Honora’s condition has sapped her of emotion, Michelle Amas’s doll-clutching Doris has the opposite affliction with her tendency to well up at the slightest slight: a beautifully pitched performance. Her rest-home caregiver, Audrey, is wonderfully astute in handling tricky situations, and newcomer Olga is brief but emphatic.

Simon Leary completes the cast with his wide-eyed pre-schooler, Claude, and onto-it care-giver Stephen, whose growing respect for Perry is well conveyed.

Adapter and director Jane Waddell has helmed the creation of a special theatrical gift that whole-heartedly honours De Goldi’s treasure of a book. Don’t miss out on getting your share – there is something here for everyone. 

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