Review: O.K.! at INTAR Is Doin' Fine But Needs Many a New Day to Find Itself

In the current climate, any piece of art uplifting the fundamental importance of reproductive rights is just what the doctor ordered. Spotlighting any social cause on the stage can be an effective educational experience itself, and while Christin Eve Cato’s new play O.K.! at INTAR certainly delivers in that regard, it does not offer enough beyond it.

Set soon after the overturning of Roe v. Wade in 2022, O.K.! follows three performers backstage before showtime of a touring bilingual parody of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Oklahoma! called Okla-hola. Currently, they are performing in the musical’s title state, and the show’s Laurey, Melinda (Danaya Esperanza), is newly pregnant and dealing with a cancelled appointment for an abortion.

Melinda grins and bears this news as her two costars, the levelheaded Jolie (Yadira Correa) and spunky Elena (Claudia Ramos Jordan) join her in the dressing room. Much of the play is centered around the women weighing Melinda’s options, with brief interludes of other conversations, which never veer far from the subject matter. Elena talks about her recent hookup, to which Melinda half-teases, half-chastises that she hopes she used a condom. Occasionally bursting through the door and often eavesdropping, stage manager Alex (Cristina Pitter) serves as a leader in more ways than one, evolving into a spiritual guide.

Unfortunately, the surface is barely scraped over the course of this 90-minute play, which tries to tackle big themes but provides little insight. The dialogue feels oddly sterile, less of a natural conversation between friends and more like staged counterarguments for a college presentation on reproductive rights. And while the characters are rather one-dimensional, Esperanza, Correa, and Jordan certainly provide a lot of heart.

Esperanza expertly embodies Melinda’s mental processing of her predicament, with skillful tone and physicality. Jordan’s Elena is the life of the party, lively and never faltering in expressiveness. Correa brings warmth to Jolie that deepens the dynamic of friendship with Melinda through many heartfelt moments that almost feel natural, though the script still strains.

Rodrigo Escalante’s design, in tandem with Melissa Crespo’s direction, is the true star. The set brims with costumes and set pieces for Okla-hola, all placed fittingly for a real backstage setting. María Cristina Fusté’s clever lighting ushers in an otherwise jarring turn in the plot, a mystical encounter that feels out of place alongside such heavily grounded realism.

Ultimately, it’s unclear what the play is trying to accomplish beyond running through a fact sheet on reproductive justice, especially as it juxtaposes serious moments — like Jolie revealing her own trauma to Melinda with brief flashes of Elena’s parody performance of “I Cain’t Say No,” and its tongue-in-cheek humor simply has no place in this moment, even as satire. Despite the play seeking solace in a world spiraling into toxic patriarchy, it feels disingenuous to not allow even a fictional character to share her story without the moment being repeatedly interrupted in this way.

Art can absolutely be a call to activism, and creatively depicting the real-world consequences of a post-Roe America is urgently needed. Though this play certainly moves in all the right directions, it didn’t quite get anywhere. If painful irony is the goal, I suppose it scores.