If there has ever been an assured method to fashioning theatre that transcends, an essential criterion would be to repackage a contemporary issue exploring all sides of its contentious cube in a setting unfamiliar to our own. The didactic component not only creates evocative debate, it has the miraculous capability of altering one’s own belief system.

This is evident in Maureen Hunter’s newest work, which imagines a custody battler over a young Leonardo da Vinci. A play that elevates the concept of sacrifice to a superior level of conception, Vinci watches like a good book reads. It challenges the standard that children are any one parent’s birthright and portrays them as gifts to be treasured.

In the township of Vinci, lives are in transition for Bartolomeo (Gordon Rand), a newly ordained priest who bids farewell to his boyhood friend Piero (Craig Erickson). Piero pledges to his father that he’ll take a bride in one year’s time. This provides ample opportunity to sow his oats, which begins and ends with the servant girl Caterina (Patricia Fagan).

“Keep your hands off that girl, you’ll ruin her,” warns the departing Bartolomeo.

This directive works better in theory than it does in practice because Bortolomeo returns to Vinci four years later only to learn that his worst fear has come true. An exiled Caterina has given birth to Piero’s child and the head of the da Vinci family, Antonio (Robert Benson) demands that Caterina hand over Leonardo warranting a brighter future for the boy.

To complicate matters, Piero, whose career as a lawyer keeps him away from Vinci, has upheld his promise and has taken a wife. Albiera (Fiona Byrne) has failed to produce offspring of her own and Piero still possesses fire for Caterina.

Antonio asks Bartolomeo to reason with Caterina about the best interests for Leonardo but the bond between mother and child will not be broken.

“They have so much! All I have is Leonardo,” she defends.

Maureen Hunter’s offering rides a wave far beyond the crest of custodial trepidation. The playwright mocks archaic views towards women in the 15^th century when Antonio, the pinnacle of political incorrectness, complains “Female chatter is the scourge of the new age.” Later on, Hunter hams it up with Bartolomeo’s gesturing sermon on the seven deadly sins. Both moments are spiked with generous humour that serves as a welcoming relief from the emotional turmoil.

Director Dennis Garnhum goes the distance making sure lower profile scenes take on memorable shapes. Two examples of this are when Albiera adheres to scriptural counsel and travels up the mountain to visit Caterina. The other involves a fishing surrounding between Piero’s younger sibling Francesco (Dylan Trowbridge) and Bartolomeo. Little develops during either occurrences but the scenes are eye glue nonetheless.

The cast contributes crystallized performances starting with Gordon Rand whose Bortolomeo walks a fine line between Godly devotion and town mediator. Maintaining absolute mystique of Piero’s true nature, Craig Erickson plays the good boy/bad boy role luminously. In what’s likely her most mature role yet, Patricia Fagan gives Caterina true grit endorsing her maternal qualifications.

Robert Benson’s conviction for Antonio is candid and endearing which is on par with the dynamic of Albiera’s hopelessness that Fiona Byrne plays with sheer gallantry.

Dylan Trowbridge, who portrays the levelheaded Francesco, is an actor to watch out for. Having assumed minor roles this past year in Theatrefront’s Mojo and Shaw Festival’s Detective Story, he’s skillful in taking on characters on edge at times of crisis. “It’s time we play the cards we’re dealt. When we don’t, people get hurt, ” declares Francesco. It’s the character’s bravest assertion in the story and Trowbridge is genial in his crucial stand.

Designer John Jenkins has put together a delightful collection of costumes that look stunning within his swiveling, spiral set outfitted with hanging mobiles. The model has its limitations making it difficult to determine shifting locale but the stark beauty of it all makes the inadequacy seem trivial.