Buffalo Theater: Irish Classical’s performances run through Sept. 28

By Bella Poynton
(Image above: Jorge Luna Photography)

Irish Classical Theatre Company’s current production of Or, by Liz Duffy Adams and co-directed by Keelie A. Sheridan and Jorge Luna, is a delicious tangle of history, fantasy and farce.

All three come together in a single night in the life of Aphra Behn — poet, spy, proto-feminist and the first-ever woman to earn her living as a playwright. The result is a period romp packed with high-speed quick changes and cheeky literary references, which manages to feel at once contemporary and faithful to the Restoration-era style it portrays. This play is smart, sexy and silly in equal measure. That the production manages to keep its wits and costumes on straight is a bit of a miracle. That it’s also an affirming tribute to women’s voices in the theatre? Even better. 

Adams sets the beginning of her play in 1666, as Behn, weary of her past as a spy and struggling to pay off debt, is desperate for a different future. We find her locked in her lodgings during one long, chaotic night, attempting to finish a new play before morning. But the world simply refuses to leave her alone. Lovers arrive. Friends turn up. Royalty demands her attention. The theatre itself comes calling!

Alexandria Watts shines as Aphra Behn, bringing confidence and comic charm to the role. What makes her performance so compelling is its maturity — her Behn is impassioned and intelligent without becoming melodramatic or haughty. Watts understands that Behn is not only an historical figure, but also a smart, exasperated woman, caught in the thick of too many obligations to give her own creative impulses the time they deserve. She’s too clever for this rabble! Watts captures the frustration of trying to write when everyone else just won’t shut up!

Adams clearly wants us to understand Behn as a proto-feminist figure for whom fluid sexuality and independence are not just new ideas to consider, but necessary requirements to live by. Watts knows these qualities are at the core of the character.  When Aphra says she is “not fond of that part” (referring to sex) and has no interest in becoming pregnant, Watts delivers it without apology or affect — it’s simply fact. There is a straightforward feminism weaved throughout the script that Watts captures every time. 

The world around Behn is beautifully rendered. J. Marc Quattlebaum’s set subtly evokes the candlelit intimacy of 17th-century London. A tall bookcase, warm lighting and a well-used central closet and door provide everything the play needs to function. The closet, in fact, becomes a character of its own as the plot unfolds; it’s a revolving entryway for (what seems like) dozens of comedic entrances and the most ambitious part of the production: the relentless momentum of the farce. The play is so full of split-second entrances, exits and costume quick changes that you genuinely begin to wonder how the actors are physically managing to pull it off. Honest to goodness, some of them were so quick, my head spun. At a certain point, the audience starts watching the closet door like it’s another character, about to spit out another whirlwind character swap. 

The comic momentum is supported by the skills of Anna Fernandez and Ryan Cupello, each playing multiple roles with ease. Fernandez in particular, nearly steals the show with impressive comic range. From the moment her Nell Gwynne appears disguised as a boy, the audience loves her. There’s a mischief to her performance that keeps us wondering if Gwynne is about to kiss her scene partner or slap them (usually, she kisses them). Fernandez’s Gwynne knows she’s charming and beautiful but never presumes she’s entirely safe or above singing for her supper. Her other roles are equally enjoyable to watch;  Maria the landlady/servant (hilarious) and the woman commissioning Behn’s play, Lady Davenant (glorious). Davenant’s single scene is arguably the comic high point of the evening — wig and all.

It’s worth noting that Fernandez’s work here marks a noticeable growth from her 2024 appearance in ICTC’s Private Lives. Her variation in tone, rhythm and physicality is strong across all three roles. Fernandez moves between them without missing a step, giving each woman her own rhythm and comedic edge. 

Ryan Cupello gives us a delightful Charles II; he’s part regal and part ridiculous. His King is a man who’s had too much privilege and just enough self-awareness to know it, making him endlessly likeable. His second role, the absurdly buffoonish Will Scott, is a character we can’t help but distrust. The contrast between the two men allows Cupello to push into wild comedic territory. He struts. He stumbles. He re-enters ten seconds later wearing an intentionally bad wig. The cast and directors deserve immense credit for maintaining such a tight ensemble rhythm. These are difficult transitions, and not only do they pull them off, but they make them look easy. 

Megan Callahan’s dialect coaching deserves special mention, here. There’s a casual elegance to the dialect, aided by Adams’s script, hovering somewhere between a heightened RP and restoration slang. A. Lise Harty’s costumes are lovely across the board, particularly Fernandez’s. Her first look is stunning, with rich details and perfectly in line with the character’s themes; she is a woman who can keep herself hidden when she wants to but also knows when to step into the spotlight. 

Admittedly, I did find myself briefly confused by the timeline. The play begins in 1666—an unusually difficult year in London, historically speaking. It saw the tail end of the last great outbreak of bubonic plague and the devastating Great Fire of London. Theatres had reopened with Charles II’s return to the throne in 1660, but they were shuttered again when the plague broke out in 1665. None of this is referenced by Adams. At the same time, the script claims to take place “mostly” on one night, during which Behn is writing her first play for production. However, Behn’s first play wasn’t produced until 1670, meaning we’ve jumped forward for four years at some point, though exactly where is never made explicit. 

Another historical wrinkle: Nell Gwynne and Charles II appear as if they are meeting for the first time, but historically, Charles and Nell likely knew each other by 1667 or 1668, after she played Florimel in Dryden’s Secret Love; or The Maiden Queen at Drury Lane. Of course, these chronological hiccups don’t matter all that much. Plot is not the major dramatic element at work here; however, I did find myself wishing the script clarified the timeline just a little. Regardless, I quickly forgot these minor glitches and surrendered to the farce.

Overall, Or is a greatly entertaining farce. It reminds us that there have always been women like Behn, scratching out plays while the world burns, not because it was easy, but because it was their only option. As Behn tells Gwynne, “I earn my bread, or I go hungry!” With that she earns her place in history once again, and on our contemporary stage in 2025, surrounded by an audience who, by the end of the play, know exactly why she matters.

Dr. Bella Poynton is a playwright, dramaturg, actor and theater historian from Buffalo. She teaches at SUNY Oswego.