Stage Force’s ‘Tuesdays with Morrie’ teaches the value of grace, forgiveness and egg salad in one man’s final days.

The premiere of “Tuesdays with Morrie” fell on Friday, Nov. 4, which also marked the 16th anniversary of the passing of Morrie Schwartz. With a few minutes to spare before the show began at The Music Hall Loft in Portsmouth, we stopped in across the street at Nahcotta to see the opening of artist Rose Umerlik’s “Histories.” Each of her paintings featured a card describing her process, and on one, she described her experience with forgiveness. She wrote of a realization that she’d never actually forgiven anyone, always either holding a grudge or minimizing the wrongdoing to convince herself that it was unworthy of offense. It made me think of my own experiences with forgiveness, a meditation that unexpectedly served as an undercurrent for the play.

Based on a book by Mitch Albom and adapted for the stage by Albom and Jeffrey Hatcher, “Tuesdays with Morrie” is a story to which we can all relate. As a young student at Brandeis, Mitch found a home in the sociology department, taking every class offered by Professor Morrie and developing a strong relationship with this favorite teacher. After graduation, despite promises to the contrary, Mitch fails to keep in touch. It’s more than a decade later, after seeing Morrie on “Nightline” discussing his recently diagnosed case of Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, that Mitch reconnects with his old mentor.

This is the first main-stage production of Kent Stephens’ newly rebranded Stage Force, formerly Harbor Light Stage, featuring CJ Lewis as Mitch and Stephen D’Ambrose as Morrie. Lewis is a local favorite, most recently appearing as Oberon in Prescott Park’s production of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” and stepping in for new dad Chris Curtis in a few productions of Harbor Light’s “Love Song.” He brings an affable believability that allows us all to relate to his portrayal of Mitch. It’s not that he wanted to lose touch with Morrie; he just always imagined he’d have more time, and his life got in the way of maintaining this past connection. Through Lewis, we see Mitch evolve from apologetic and initially reluctant to caring and connected.

Hailing from the St. Paul/Minneapolis theater world, D’Ambrose plays Morrie with a range of complexity: he is strong yet sentimental, honest about his illness yet secretive about its advancement, pushy toward Mitch yet protective. D’Ambrose’s performance is nuanced and realistic as we see the stages of his disease advance.

Director Stephens has woven together a well-balanced production with the right balance of humor, melancholy and didacticism. Featuring only Lewis and D’Ambrose with speaking roles, the play never feels claustrophobic or isolated. Morrie’s non-speaking nurses double as stagehands, moving the sets and managing the space with the quiet efficiency of a well-trained orderly. While we may not hear them speak, we can sense their protectiveness of their patient. Bits of audio are worked in from offstage—the theme from “Nightline,” the cracking bats of a baseball game, the sound of a Victrola. While Morrie does not leave the confines of his home, the world still comes to him.

It helps to have the play staged in New England around the time of Morrie’s passing. We already have a sense of how the light looked and the air felt as Mitch and Morrie carried on their last conversations. The intimacy of The Loft helps make this world feel more real and interconnected. The front row is mere feet from the stage, and the audience is already within the space of the narrative before the first word of dialog is spoken.

The set is a series of interconnected canvases painted by local artist DeWitt Hardy, depicting the change of time and Morrie’s favorite Japanese red maple tree. Each unfolding of the canvas represents the passage of time and a deepening of their relationship. 

The play makes excellent use of the stage with action and subtle lighting cues shifting our attention from one side of the stage to the other. Like an extended dance, Morrie and Mitch shift places until the standout scenes where they find themselves, finally, sharing the same centered space.

It’s this space from within which the production operates: it’s a play about living more than it is about dying, and it’s only through the acknowledgement of death that Mitch seeks Morrie out again to learn these valuable lessons. The laughter far outweighs the tears, but what’s most powerful about this play is that we all bring our own experiences of life—the successes, the grand plans, the missed opportunities, and even the unexpected meditations—to create an entirely unique and personal experience of viewing.

“Tuesdays with Morrie” runs through Nov. 20 at The Music Hall Loft, 131 Congress St., Portsmouth. Show times are Thursdays at 7:30 p.m., Fridays and Saturdays at 8 p.m., and Sundays at 2 p.m., with an extra 7 p.m. show on Sunday, Nov. 13, and a 3 p.m. matinee on Saturday, Nov. 19. For tickets, call 603-436-2400 or visit www.themusichall.org.