“Irishtown” at Irish Repertory Theatre (Photo: Carol Rosegg)

How to put on a play that is “Irish” enough for a theater company from Dublin to take to the New York stage – that’s the premise of Irishtown, a new play by Ciara Elizabeth Smyth. But what that doesn’t convey is the rip-roaring hilarity that ensues when we are taken behind the scenes as the cast and director dissect the proposed script and then try to improvise improvements. The result is a play that takes affectionate aim at the rich tradition of Irish theater and its perceived tendency to perpetuate stereotypes.

It feels rather meta to be watching a play about the production of an Irish play to be shown in New York while in New York at the Irish Rep, but completely fitting. Irish Rep has been a bastion of Irish drama here and so the perfect home for the world premiere of Irishtown. We find the cast backstage gathered for the first read through of a new play written specifically to be taken to New York in five weeks’ time.  Surtitles count down at the beginning of each scene how many weeks are left ’til showtime.

For all the characters, the production offers a chance at the big time as they each have dubious credentials that could do with a lift. There’s the British director, Poppy (Angela Reed), who left the RSC under a cloud. There’s Constance, a would-be diva, except that her long career has never quite taken off. Kate Burton is delightful in the role and playing out of character given her own storied record. And Siofra, a young-ish ingenue who has relied on her relationships with writers to land all her parts. Saoirse-Monica Jackson is perfectly cast with her extraordinarily mobile face able to express a whole lifetime of emotions in a side-splitting heartbeat.

The writer, Aisling (Brenda Meaney), is bristling with confidence that her play is a masterpiece. But the actors and director have reservations: not least that the play is not set in Ireland, but in Hertfordshire in England. There’s also some concern that about the subject matter: “It seems to be about a woman who is sexually harassed and assaulted at work. And eh, she takes a legal case against the boss. And wins.” This summary is delivered by Quin (Kevin Oliver Lynch), the only male actor in the cast. For the actors, the problem with this plot is that it has a happy ending – something they claim is unheard for an Irish play. Overall, it’s just not Irish enough.

There follows an entertaining exploration of what elements make up the quintessential Irish play.  Aging relatives, rolling green hills, cups of tea, and much repeated “incest” are some alleged essentials. Faced with the fear of failure in New York, the director and actors take things into their own hands. At this point a passing knowledge of some of the greats of Irish theater may come in handy. A familiarity with Seán O’Casey, Brian Friel, and Samuel Beckett will help inform the extended scenes where the actors “ideate” their own Irish play with the help of very funny note taking on a white board. The ideas lead to an extended improvisation session – perhaps a little too long, but nonetheless a laugh-til-you-cry spoof. The actors plumb their own depths to manufacture implausible plots. Jackson is particularly entertaining here, entering through a rack of old costumes carrying a bucket and wearing a sparkly poncho and wellies. The flea-bitten backstage ambiance has been lovingly captured in Colm McNally’s scenic design.

Irishtown is like a mashup of The Play That Goes Wrong (there’ s lot of slapstick humor) and a takedown of the pretentious creative process. The tension is maintained as we wait to see will-they-or-won’t-they come up with a new Irish masterpiece. Perhaps, with some light editing, we might even be watching the said masterpiece or at least a very good night of theater.