I expected that The Carousel was the story of a woman dealing with the imminent death of her mother. It begins that way—the set a sterile, angular hospital hallway with towering black spruces in the background. But as the story unfolds, Jennifer Tremblay’s words become more than a story of death. The Carousel is the story of three generations of women and their familys’ secrets.

The Carousel takes up where Tremblay’s play The List ended. The Woman tells the origin story of her family and depicts the unravelling of secrets that come from a gigantic rural clan with ten boys and one girl, living on the northern shore of the St. Lawrence River off Highway 138. While her mother slowly perishes, the Woman drifts back to her childhood and the one that her mother experienced as well, at the mercy of the Catholic Nuns who educated her for a decade. The play moves seamlessly from place to place, era to era in a way that’s easy to witness and comforting to see. The sound was both subtle and nostalgic, and aided the transportation of the audience from era to era.

Allegra Fulton, the only actor in the entire play, truly takes this script to another level. I’m inherently skeptical of one-person productions and how much investment they require from the audience. But Fulton dissuaded all my fears and drew me in completely. Not only does she portray the Woman, but the Woman’s son, her mother Florence, her grandmother Marie, and the men of their lives (grandfather Émilien and father Charles). Never once was I confused about who Fulton was portraying; there was a definite separation in who she was in every moment, which was truly impressive to witness. Her slight changes in tone of voice and the gait of her walk make The Carousel appear to have a whole cast contained in one person.

The Carousel is about the role of the woman in the family and their endless and constant responsibilities. Florence is the only one in her family sent away for ten years to a convent school and it crosses her mind that it’s perhaps because she is a girl, that she is at fault and somehow to blame for this solitary life. The moment that stuck out most to me was one where the Woman’s son is playing at a breakneck pace with his two friends, and the Woman quickly eases into provider mode. Popcorn? It’s popping. Chocolate? You got it. Sleepover? Let me roll out the air mattress. But the Woman displays her exhaustion, her frazzled nature to the audience. It’s a human moment, one that I connected to.

If you’ve never been to the Berkeley Street Theatre, do yourself a favour and get over there. The old, beautiful brick walls and secret courtyard pair well with a play of this intimacy. It fits so well there. If you’re looking to see something that will make you feel nostalgic for a life you’ve never lived, for a place you probably have never been to, go see The Carousel.

The Carousel by Jennifer Tremblay, translated by Shelley Tepperman runs until March 30 at the Berkeley Street Theatre and is presented by Nightwood Theatre. You can purchase tickets here.