STAGE REVIEW : ‘Heart,’ Though ‘Hasty,’ Is Filled With Warmth

Human beings, curious creatures that we are, can be remarkably resourceful in forging emotional walls to separate us from our fellow man. Thus death, the final leveler of all walls, becomes the key character in “The Hasty Heart,” John Patrick’s story about a wounded Scottish soldier, who, unaware that he is dying, is left to spend his final days in the care of a nurse and a roomful of soldiers he neither knows nor likes.

The drama, deftly laced with comedy at the North Coast Repertory Theatre, is the deeply affecting stuff on which series like “MASH” and “China Beach” are made. In fact, if no one has lifted this 1945 plot yet, it’s probably about time. The show creaks with contrivance--the soldiers each conveniently come from a different nation for which they are nicknamed: Yank (American), Digger (Australian), Kiwi (New Zealand), Tommy (English) and Blossom (African). And the irascible Scottish soldier, just as conveniently to the plot, has no family and no friends, making this group his absolutely last opportunity to make peace with his fellow man.

There is no shortage of old truths here: when the nurse thanks Lachlen, the Scottish soldier, because his presence enriches her own, one can hear echoes of Tennyson’s “Ulysses”: “I am a part of all that I have met.”

But old truths are truths, nonetheless--and worth being reminded of in a world where feelings are increasingly suspect and there is safety in cynicism, which passes all too easily for intelligence.

Director Andrew Barnicle keeps a deft hand on those feelings, which stay at a simmer under the clever repartee, bursting, at just the right moments, to a boil. The compelling star of the youthful cast, some of whom are a bit green about the edges, is Michael Deitering as Lachlen--and he is terrific.

Standing out against the aptly dingy Army-issue background designed by Terry Price (only the bright red blankets on the

Army-issue beds serve as color relief), Deitering builds an intense emotional wall around himself that seems so palpable you can practically see it. There is wonderful support, too, particularly by the cheerfully rotund Kevin Mann with an Amadeus-like laugh as Tommy, Ron Choularton as the scrappy, scrawny Digger and Shana Wride as the stern but compassionate nurse, Margaret. If the others seem a bit awkward at times, it enhances the earnestness of their performances, which is just what you need in an unabashedly sentimental play such as this one.

The lighting by Price is understated, as are the simple costumes by Kathryn Gould and the sound by Marvin Read. The focus stays, as it should, on Lachlen--although his two key relationships could be better clarified. Does the nurse who professes love for Lachlen really love him, is she just trying to make his final days happy or are her feelings a puzzle even to herself? And does Yank (Joel Dorr) ever fully perceive that his love/hate feelings towards Lachlen give him a second chance to work out his ambivalence towards the dead Scottish grandfather who raised him?

This “Hasty Heart” does not have all the answers, but what it does have, to the point of overflowing, is heart. It’s a simple, well-made, old-fashioned play about death that is ultimately life-affirming. It is a show that teaches us not to defer acts of kindness to ourselves and others because we do not know how soon our last day will come. Like “A Christmas Carol,” this show could not be more perfect for the holiday season.

Watching Lachlen’s walls break down is a lot like chopping onions. If it doesn’t draw tears, then maybe its time to get your ducts examined.

“THE HASTY HEART”

By John Patrick. Director, Andrew Barnicle. Set and lighting, Terry Price. Costumes, Kathryn Gould. Sound, Marvin Read. With David Kirkwood, Joel Dorr, Ron Choularton, Bryan Feldman, Eric Davenport, Kevin Mann, Shana Wride, Robert Stark and Michael Deitering. At 8 p.m. Thursday-Saturday; 7 p.m. Sundays; Sunday matinees at 2, except Dec. 24; at 8 p.m. Dec. 20 and 27. Runs through Jan. 6. Tickets are $10-12. At 987-D Lomas Santa Fe Drive, Solana Beach, (619) 481-1055.