Nurse Granny Pink is just what the doctor ordered

SAN DIEGO -- Rosemary Harris, the British-born, American-based actress whom younger moviegoers will know as Aunt May in the “Spider-Man” franchise, is one of those canny veterans who could mesmerize an audience while reading the proverbial phone book. She has more poignant material in the Old Globe’s production of “Oscar and the Pink Lady,” a solo performance piece that’s been adapted from a novella by French writer Eric-Emmanuel Schmitt. But what she doesn’t have in this story about an elderly hospital volunteer’s relationship with a sharp-eyed 10-year-old boy dying of cancer is a proper play. It’s really a slab of prose apportioned to characters who don’t so much interact as hold forth. Fortunately, this old pro doesn’t require much to work her soul-conjuring wizardry.

When Harris acts, aspiring students of the theater should take notes. While they may not be able to match her intelligence, grace and, at 80, radiant freshness, they can learn from her greatest asset -- her discipline.

The dramatic situation is one that a less experienced performer might try to milk for maximum heartbreak. Harris, on the contrary, steadfastly resists any sentimental indulgences. She portrays her characters as truthfully as she can, which means she enters the hearts and minds of those forced to confront mortality as a fact rather than as a speculative fantasy.

For Oscar, there isn’t time for wasteful tears, and for “Granny Pink,” the one person he can count on for a straight answer, there’s a reputation for toughness to live up to. She’s been regaling her young friend with tales from her glory days as the champion wrestler known as the “Incredible Midget.” Her epic battles against leg-locking Thunder Thighs and the Irish heavyweight Plum Pudding provide endless amusement and a reminder that even the most vulnerable-appearing among us can possess reserves of incredible strength and courage.

Granny Pink encourages Oscar, whose bone-marrow transplant has failed as a last stand against his leukemia, to write directly to God as an outlet for his questions and quandaries. These letters, which structure the play, provide a diary for him to report his daily activities in the hospital. To make it interesting, he pretends that every day counts for a decade of his life. It’s an idea Granny Pink thought up after getting a rare dispensation from stern Dr. Düsseldorf to visit her favorite patient regularly during the Christmas holidays. And it’s during this merry yet not-so-merry period that Oscar will fall in love with a girl in the ward, forgive his parents for their shortcomings and attain a precocious spiritual maturity before his inevitable tragic end.

The tone that writer Schmitt adopts is surprisingly more jocular than maudlin, which is refreshing in that it allows us to get to know Oscar rather than just his illness. But there’s a bit of sappiness to the writing, a desire to be simultaneously cute and profound, like one of those children’s books that adults love to give as gifts to one other. And Oscar’s fellow patients -- such as his sweetheart, Peggy Blue, and his fierce rival for her affections, Pop Corn -- never emerge as fully developed figures.

The production, directed by Frank Dunlop, unfolds in the round in the Cassius Carter Centre Stage, which causes a problem that has nothing to do with scenic designer Michael Vaughn Sims’ adequate sketch of a hospital ward. The trouble is that we’re often confronting Harris’ back or side, as the actress must routinely reposition herself so that the other flank of the audience will have the benefit of her expressions.

One-person shows shouldn’t turn into a game of peekaboo with the star, whom we’ve come to see, not just hear. The intimacy of the space is ideal, yet the frustrating logistics permit only intermittent viewing of one of the theater’s great faces.

Harris slides into the various dramatis personae with the ease of a master storyteller. Her method isn’t one of staggering transformations -- you’re continually aware of Granny Pink, with her white hair, pink shirt and Velcro sneakers, reading the letters and recalling her now-deceased friend. Yet her vivid handling of the narration lets us travel along Oscar’s journey toward appreciating life for what it is -- a gift that’s on loan, some more short-term than others.

There’s a special resonance in having an actress who has just entered her ninth decade play out this tale of gratitude for the time one is granted. And the chance to enjoy Harris onstage, even in something that’s not particularly effective as a drama, is always supremely worthwhile.

charles.mcnulty@latimes.com

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‘Oscar and the Pink Lady’

Where: Old Globe, Cassius Carter Centre Stage, Balboa Park, San Diego

When: 7 p.m. Tuesdays and Wednesdays, 8 p.m. Thursdays and Fridays, 2 and 8 p.m. Saturdays, 2 and 7 p.m. Sundays

Ends: Nov. 4

Price: $19 to $59

Contact: (619) 234-5623

Running time: 1 hour, 45 minutes