WILLIAMSTON, Mich.–What hope have any of us puny humans of immortality if the mighty sun and all the stars in the sky are dying and burning themselves out? No matter how magnificent our lives, no matter how divine our legacy, we too shall pass into nothingness where even the memory of our being fades away.

Not an easy thing for anyone to grasp, much less a person who lived on the applause and the praise of others. But it is the struggle that Sarah Bernhardt, the most famous actress of her time, has in Memoir, the play now running at Williamston Theatre.

In this two-person show, Sarah works with Georges Pitou to finish her memoir because she knows that she is dying. Played by Karen Sheridan and John Lepard respectively, the two review scenes from her past as she careens through memories at a breakneck pace.

The script by John Murrell cherry picks emotional and thematic moments from the actress’ life rather than those which are the most interesting or unusual. It makes for a talky play that is more about the playwright’s ideas than his characters’ lives or legacy. We are told that she is divine, Pitou clearly worships her, but despite the best efforts of Sheridan—and she does a splendid job–the script just doesn’t show us that side of Sarah Bernhardt.

Instead, we are left with a show that could really be about any two people, albeit one must be somewhat of an egomaniac who talks to the sun. If we can step back and forget that this is about two actual people with a far more fascinating story than what Murrell chose to present, then there are some interesting moments to explore in this show.

Sheridan puts in a commanding performance as the aging tyrant who isn’t about to let infirmary slow her down or keep her from having her own way. Her Sarah bullies Pitou and knows that she can do it not just because she is his employer, but because he is devoted to her and because they really do love each other–albeit in a completely platonic way.

Sheridan communicates Sarah’s weaknesses and strengths in the way she limps across the stage—a limp that doesn’t make her vulnerable but rather almost savage. She is not a woman who will let anyone or anything keep her from accomplishing what she intends to accomplish. The only thing she has not yet figured out is physical immortality.

Murrell does give Lepard a playground on which to romp and Lepard takes full advantage of it. His Pitou is nebbish and subservient, stubborn in his own way, and delightful to watch as he is pressed into playing the characters who traipse through Sarah’s life from her mother, to a nun, to a rough British manager, to stage hands and lovers. It is an especial challenge for an actor as talented as Lepard to play a character who is not a good actor, but he does it with finesse and great humor.

Together, Lepard and Sheridan play off each other with great aplomb. Together they present the difficulties, challenges, and warmth of two people dealing with the impending death of one person in a long-term relationship. There is a tenderness between them, one that especially comes out in a scene where Pitou has a rare moment of vulnerability and shares a story from his past.

Sarah has a closing conversation with another famous luminary of her time. It’s a scene that feels good in so many ways—one gets to imagine a conversation between these two larger-than-life personalities, she proposes a question about the grandeur of their lives and the chemistry between Sheridan and Lepard at that moment is intense and beautiful. But it is again where the script falls flat, for once the initial feel-good emotion passes, it’s too hard to accept that the Sarah presented in this script really had the foresight and depth of understanding to see what people were like in the future and to understand herself in the context that she did. It feels instead like the playwright preaching.

Directed by Mary Job, Memoir comes in at about two hours with a 15-minute intermission. She leads a team of designers that ensure her two actors have a beautiful stage on which to work. Bartley H. Bauer’s stage evokes a wealthy French courtyard and Alex Gay’s lighting marks the passage of time as well as drawing focus during critical scenes. Michelle Raymond’s props hit the period while providing authentic material for the actors to play with.

“Memoir” has its entertaining moments and it certainly poses questions about mortality that all of us must face, whether we are famous or no. Williamston and its team, led by Job, do an excellent job at getting the most out of Murrell’s script. They’re not to be blamed if the script sometimes feels forced and fails to find the magic that was Sarah Bernhardt.