James Joyce’s effect on writing and the English language was bigger than life, so it seems fitting that Joyce is “born” adult-sized in the first scene of playwright Sheila Walsh’s new biomusical Himself and Nora, at the Old Globe through April 24.

This is, in fact, the most original and one of the most effective scenes in the play, which concentrates on the relationship between Joyce (Matt Bogart) and Nora Barnacle (Kate Shindle), the spirited chambermaid who became Joyce’s muse, lover, inspiration, mother of his two children and eventually his wife.

Born in Dublin into comfort, if not money (Joyce’s father inherited property, but lost it to alcoholism by the time Joyce came of age), Joyce received an excellent Jesuit education, then spent much of the rest of his life trying to “free myself of priest-ridden Ireland,” embodied here in a priest (David Edwards) who serves as Greek chorus, commenting on Joyce’s actions.

Like most Irishmen, Joyce was a good wordslinger who loved talking and listening to others on the street or in a pub. Nora, from Galway (in the rural west of Ireland), fascinated him with her unusual accent, speech patterns and vocabulary. “Word me,” he asks, taking notes like Professor Higgins.

Joyce and Nora left Ireland in 1904 and returned only briefly thereafter, living on the continent in Trieste, France and Switzerland. Joyce broke not just from the church, but also from conventional writing styles and from the prevailing notion that marriage should precede children (though he finally married Nora in 1931, 10 years before his death and after two children).

Joyce devotees may be annoyed that the play goes light on the pain that being turned down by more than 50 publishers must have caused, and on the censorship battle Joyce had in the United States once Ulysses was published. And one could argue that three important figures in Joyce’s life are given rather short shrift: American poet Ezra Pound, who championed Joyce; benefactor Harriet Shaw Weaver, who bankrolled his stay in Paris with Nora; and Sylvia Beach, who first published Ulysses.

But this is a love story, and director Joseph Hardy gives us two very attractive stars, a fine supporting cast of three playing multiple roles, and many light, bouncy musical numbers by Jonathan Brielle, some even with dance. Never mind that Joyce was not a light, bouncy character.

Himself and Nora does at least present Joyce as something of a misfit and a bit of a libertine. After one extracurricular dalliance, Joyce and Nora have words. Joyce finally asks the cutting, “What man wants a woman of 40?”

To which Nora replies “What woman of 40 wants a man? What would I be without a man? Lucky!”

Bogart cuts a fine figure and is much better looking than photos of Joyce. He sings nicely too, but can’t hold a candle in that department to Shindle, who is not only gorgeous of face but also stunning of voice. Edwards, Frank Mastrone and Kathy Santen complete this talented cast, and the whole is ably directed by Hardy.

This is Joyce lite, which has its charms and is probably better than no Joyce at all, but Himself and Nora may leave you with a nagging question: Is that all there is?

Himself and Nora plays through April 24 at the Old Globe Theatre. Shows Thurs.-Sat. at 8:00 p.m.; Sun.-Wed. at 7:00 p.m.; matinees Sat. and Sun. at 2:00 p.m. For tickets call (619) 23-GLOBE.

– Kenneth Lonergan

Playwright Kenneth Lonergan may be better known for his Oscar-nominated screenplay You Can Count on Me than for the plays he’s written.

That’s OK, as long as people know this man has an ear for dialogue.

Case in point: The Waverly Gallery, a family saga on the boards through April 30 at New Village Arts Theatre in Carlsbad.

Gladys Green (Sandra Ellis-Troy) is the elderly matriarch of the Fine family, consisting of her daughter Ellen (Dana Case), son-in-law Howard (Jack Missett) and grandson Daniel (Francis Gercke), who serves as narrator.

Gladys is not just forgetful, she has begun that slide into Alzheimer’s from which there is no return. Gladys spends her days presiding over an art gallery that does no business and conversing, often incomprehensibly, with family members who come in to check on her.

There isn’t that much plot here – the landlord has given the family five months notice to vacate the gallery; the question is how and when to disclose that fact to Gladys. There’s a minor subplot about Don (Jeffrey Jones), a talentless artist whom Gladys takes under her shriveling wing.

Mostly, this is an all-too-familiar portrait of an experience many of us have had, and most of us will have: the slow but inexorable disintegration of a personality by age and disease. It’s a memory play, or rather a loss-of-memory play, and any who have been down this road know that the slide is amusing at first (as Gladys asks the same question over and over, or refuses to accept information given such as where Daniel works), eventually becoming tiresome, scary and finally terribly sad.

Before that final stage, there are many comedic moments, particularly one family dinner, reminiscent of the one in Woody Allen’s Annie Hall, where everyone talks and no one listens.

Lonergan, in fact, uses the technique of stereo conversation frequently here; that it works so well is a credit to director Kristianne Kurner and her actors, who get the timing down perfectly.

Ellis-Troy is masterful as Gladys, the bigger-than-life personality shrinking before our eyes. She’s such a feisty presence, unwilling to accept the limitations imposed, that we are even more moved as the stronger force gains the upper hand. Though it is difficult to watch Gladys’ decline, I can’t imagine anyone portraying it better than Ellis-Troy.

But this is an ensemble effort, and these actors, remembered from last season’s Lie of the Mind, seem truly like family. Jeffrey Jones’ portrayal of Don, the upstart artist of poco talento, is a gem in its own right.

The Waverly Gallery boasts fine acting, excellent direction, and a point that is unutterably sad: “It’s not true that if you try hard enough you’ll prevail in the end.”

The Waverly Gallery plays through April 30 at New Village Arts Theatre in Carlsbad. Shows Thurs.-Sat. at 8:00 p.m.; Sun. at 7:00 p.m. For tickets call (760) 433-3245, or visit www.gaylesbiantimes.com for a link to their website. l