In Lyric Stage’s ‘Or,’ quill pen proves mighty

STAGE REVIEW

October 18, 2011|By Don Aucoin, Globe Staff
  • Roee Levi as the desperate and ruthless William and Stacy Fischer the young writer Aphra Behn in Or, a Lyric Stage Company production.
Roee Levi as the desperate and ruthless William and Stacy Fischer the young… (mark s. howard )

OR,

Play by Liz Duffy Adams

Directed by: Daniel Gidron.

Sets, Dahlia Al-Habieli. Lights, John Cuff. Costumes, Emily Woods Hogue. Sound, Chris Bocchiaro. Through Nov. 6. Lyric Stage Company, Boston. Tickets $25-$56, 617-585-5678, www.lyricstage.com

Aphra Behn dallies with a total of three lovers in the Lyric Stage Company’s production of “Or,’’ (whose comma, by the way, is part of the title, not a typo): a woman and two men, one of them no less a personage than the king of England.

But her most ardent and longing gaze is reserved for her quill pen. That is the true object of Aphra’s desire. If only the two of them could be alone for a while, maybe she could finally finish her first play and begin to secure her place in history as one of the pioneering female writers in the English language.

Alas, in Liz Duffy Adams’s clever simulacrum of a Restoration comedy, which is set in the London of the late 1660s and draws its inspiration from (but is not constrained by) historical characters and events, Aphra keeps getting pulled away from her writing table.

Demanding Aphra’s attention, sometimes simultaneously, are King Charles II, for whom she feels admiration and attraction but from whom she wants to maintain independence; the celebrated actress Nell Gwynne, who is equally captivated by Aphra’s play and Aphra herself; and William Scott, a hothead whom the budding playwright knew back in her days as a spy.

To Aphra’s surprise and dismay, William shows up in her parlor with a claim of a plot aimed at the king and a threat to blow the lid off what, in his view, is a lie that Aphra has been telling the world.

These personal, political, professional, and romantic complications notwithstanding, “Or,’’ - there’s that comma again - could use an extra layer or two of story. At 90 minutes, it feels a bit slight, with a too-abrupt ending.

But there’s a bracing intelligence to Adams’s writing that is matched by three sterling performances: by Stacy Fischer as Aphra; by Hannah Husband as the flirtatious yet regal Nell, plus two minor but exceptionally vivid characters; and by Ro’ee Levi as the dashingly sympathetic Charles, the desperate and ruthless William, and a gruff jailer irked that Aphra keeps rhyming his sentences.

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