If Rosemary Harris wishes to perform a one-woman show about a child dying of cancer, then a way must be found for this to happen, even if the script is a droning translation of a whimsical narrative that skids too often into the slough of sentimentality surrounding such a subject.

Miss Harris is a titan of the American theatre, an actress of impressive stature and impeccable credits whose artistic instincts are as much a part of her status as are her polished physical tools. Her interest attracts my interest.

Together, she and director Frank Dunlop have explored Eric-Emmanuel Schmitt’s “Oscar and the Pink Lady” about as much as necessary. If they are unable to make it more lucid in this production on the Old Globe’s Cassius Carter Center Stage, then the material itself must assume the blame.

The boy Oscar is never seen but his voice dominates the script, his left-behind letters to God read by the dear elderly volunteer who eased his last days, the one he calls “Granny Pink.” Miss Harris mixes the two voices uneasily, doing more with physical business for the lady while just gamely reporting the child’s musings.

The woman is interesting – she’s a retired professional wrestler with plenty of colorful memories – but her characterization is lost in the prolonged poignancy of the child’s fantasies, his interaction with other young patients, his frustration with a medical system that’s given him up, his impatience with the parents who aren’t getting their grief right.

Certainly, there’s nothing like a dying child for dominating the scene, especially when the dialogue is addressed to God. So, eventually, Dunlop pretty much gives up staging and leaves Miss Harris to her prodigious job of memorization.

Her warmth, the glow of her intelligence, her nimble pixie quality are used here mostly to hold attention during a long and hopeless journey. Of course she scores some points. The problem is that the points keep turning up for rescoring, over and over.

The Michael Vaughn Sims scenery is inevitably bland, though the muted checkerboard floor is a nice touch; Jane Greenwood’s costume hints at more character that Miss Harris has time to explore; Trevor Norton’s lighting design relies too heavily on area ooze.

Yes, by the way, I know that Rosemary Harris has been featured in three Spiderman films so far, playing the tedious, whiny Aunt Somebody. But that’s business. A project such as this one has to be for love.

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