By Joan MacLeod. Directed by Richard Rose. A Tarragon Theatre production, originally coproduced with Alberta Theatre Projects. Presented by the Arts Club. At the Revue Stage on Wednesday, April 6. Continues until April 23

Because it’s more of a character study than a story, Joan MacLeod’s new play Another Home Invasion only comes together dramatically in about the last 15 minutes—although solo actor Nicola Lipman is watchable throughout.

Lipman plays Jean, a senior who wants to get herself and her husband Alec into “the Kiwanis”, a care facility near her North Vancouver home that’s “got a bunch of floors just for couples” and, because it has kitchens in every suite, allows residents to maintain some independence. There’s limited tension in this story line, though; Alec, who entertains himself by listening to the dishwasher, has advanced dementia, so it’s clear from the outset what’s going to happen to Jean’s hopes.

At the top of the play, the lonely Jean lets a filthy, mumbling guy into her house and chatters away at him for some time before noticing that “his eyes aren’t right. They’re skittering.” Although the “fella” grabs Jean’s wrist long and hard, leaving a ring of bruises and terrifying her, neither Jean nor her supposedly busybody daughter Bethie informs the police. Despite this obvious setup—and wide credibility gap—there’s not much tension in this story line either, mostly because MacLeod abandons it for so long.

For great stretches, MacLeod just lets Jean ramble on about her dead dogs, her marriage, and her aquafit classes. Jean is feisty—to a fault. In a way, it’s daring of the playwright to let her protagonist be so ornery. Jean bosses her daughter and granddaughter around, and her assessments of other people are often petty and scathing; she is outraged that her aquafit instructor jumps into the pool with her shorts on. In part, Jean is presented as funny because she is ridiculous and harmless. To the degree that that’s true, it’s a dismissal.

At its best, there’s generosity and poetry in Another Home Invasion. Jean speaks frankly and compassionately about Alec’s struggles with alcohol, and the loveliest gesture in the play—which I won’t give away—is an offer that Alec makes to the fella. The script contains beautifully simple lines: “He don’t dream no more, Alec. He just goes straight to black.” There’s some effective surreal imagery: when Alec rages at her, Jean remembers being a kid and having nightmares about a man in China who had faces on both sides of his head. And there’s moving and justified anger at the bottom of all of this: “There’s a lot of us ladies in the same position,” Jean says. “We don’t make a fuss. But if we did”¦”

Lipman, who is one of the finest actors in town, charms and amuses; impersonating a care worker named Claudia, she leans into the character’s condescending tone with fury. Lipman plays the comic rhythms expertly. She credibly inhabits Jean’s physical frailty, and—devastatingly—her disappointment.

Scott Reid’s minimalist set—an armchair in the centre of a square filled with autumn leaves—is a gem, and David Fraser’s lighting design is a lesson in subtlety: the fella looms as a shadowy silhouette; Fraser lights disappointment as if with a naked bulb.

Another Home Invasion is at its best—and, in my book, its most realistic—when it’s at its toughest, but it’s not tough enough for long.