‘Tuesdays’ full of laughter and tears

A cellphone bleats just as the performers are trying to communicate something meaningful. Normally, this would be the most annoying sound in the world, but in “Tuesdays With Morrie” at the Laguna Playhouse, it’s part of the message.

Based on the bestselling book, the play shares the lessons in living that Mitch Albom learned from a dying man. On stage (as on the page), Albom is a high-profile sports columnist who learns that his favorite college professor has amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, the degenerative disorder otherwise known as Lou Gehrig’s disease, and goes to pay a visit. Brandeis University sociology professor Morrie Schwartz still has much to teach his onetime student -- particularly about the petty distractions that pull people away from the truly important things in life. As if to prove the old professor’s point, Albom’s cellphone keeps going off.

In the instant it takes for a theatergoer to realize the ringing isn’t coming from his or her own phone, the message begins to sink in.

Such lessons bear repeating, so there’s good reason to attend the play’s West Coast premiere, even if you’ve already read the book and seen the Emmy-winning 1999 TV movie made from it. Though the stage version takes an awfully long time to slip into its groove, it grabs the heart and opens the tear ducts as surely as the other versions have.

Crafted by Albom and playwright Jeffrey Hatcher, the theatrical version of “Tuesdays With Morrie” winnows out peripheral details and focuses resolutely on the relationship between Mitch (played by Daniel Nathan Spector) and Morrie (Jack Axelrod).

The early part of the play drifts back to the late 1970s and Mitch’s days at Brandeis. Even then, Morrie is well on his way toward understanding life’s deeper meanings. Saying goodbye after graduation, the short, silver-haired professor locks Mitch in a hug. Embarrassed, the young man goes rigid and begins to pull away, but Morrie won’t be deterred. Tapping his forehead, the professor playfully announces, “Extra credit.” Mitch looks around to make sure no one is looking, then kisses the older man. Morrie beams.

Aside from this defining gesture, the play’s opening minutes are long on narration and short on demonstrating the qualities that draw the men to each other. It isn’t until the story reaches the mid-1990s, when Mitch rekindles his relationship with Morrie, that the show begins to work its magic.

By this time, Morrie is losing control of his body, though his mind remains sharp. During their first visit, Mitch keeps an eye on his watch as he tries to convey how busy his life has become. Seemingly out of the blue, Morrie asks: “Are you at peace with yourself?” Mitch is flabbergasted. Morrie drives home his point by saying: “Dying is only one thing to be sad over. Living unhappily is something else.”

The message gets through, and -- though Mitch works in Detroit and Morrie lives outside Boston -- Mitch begins to visit every Tuesday. A student once again, Mitch listens to what Morrie has to say, and as the professor faces his mortality, Mitch considers his own.

The understated set, by Dwight Richard Odle, is dominated by a Japanese maple tree, its leaves deepened to the dusky rose of autumn. A nice touch, it silently reflects Morrie’s aphorism that “A tree’s leaves are most colorful just before they die.”

As Mitch, Spector employs the joking manner of someone who’s always working the room, trying just a little too hard to make people like him. Against this effectively larger-than-life image, Axelrod, who’s a head shorter than Spector, seems small and frail. He blazes with good humor, though, and when he laughs, his whole face lights up cherubically, like a baby’s.

That he gradually loses this ability -- until he’s paralyzed in bed, able to move little more than his eyes -- is but one trigger for the waterworks that follow. First, though, some genuine laughs emerge in Richard Stein’s staging, as when a coughing fit nearly turns into a rough and tumble episode befitting the Three Stooges.

Then the tears flow, as inevitably they must. Morrie’s words reach straight for the heart.

“You have to go after life and embrace it,” he says. “And when you do, sometimes life will embrace you back in ways you never imagined.”

Such knowledge enables Morrie to survey his humble surroundings and contentedly announce that they have “filled up with such love and warmth and honesty and tears. This is a wealthy home.”

*

‘Tuesdays With Morrie’

Where: Laguna Playhouse, 606 Laguna Canyon Road, Laguna Beach

When: 8 p.m. Tuesdays to Fridays; 2 and 8 p.m. Saturdays; 2 and 7 p.m. Sundays. 2 p.m. only Oct. 10

Ends: Oct. 10

Price: $45 and $52

Contact: (949) 497-ARTS or www.LagunaPlayhouse.com

Running Time: 1 hour, 40 minutes

Jack Axelrod...Morrie

Daniel Nathan Spector...Mitch

A co-production with San Jose Repertory Theatre. By Jeffrey Hatcher and Mitch Albom, based on Albom’s book. Directed by Richard Stein. Set and costumes Dwight Richard Odle. Lights Tom Ruzika. Sound David Edwards. Production stage manager Nancy Staiger.