An Ohio rec center basement may seem like an odd place to nurture a revolution, but during the early 1970s it was in unlikely places such as these that women gathered in consciousness-raising groups to recognize, define, and combat what noted feminist/activist Betty Friedan dubbed "the problem with no name." Set in one such basement, redolent with the lingering odor of countless teenage boys, Liberation -- newly transferred to Broadway after a successful off-Broadway run last season -- turns its lens on one such group. Lizzie, the group's founder (played by Susannah Flood), is based on playwright Bess Wohl's late mother, and the play shifts between the larger political context and the deeply personal one. Sharply imagined, heartbreaking in places, and unexpectedly funny throughout, Liberation lays bare the contradictions of a movement that fell short in many ways, but is still urgently needed today.

Subtitled "A Memory Play About Things I Don't Remember," Liberation looks back to 1970, where second-wave feminism was coming up like an idea whose time had come, passing from person to person in small, intimate settings as well as public rallies. The six women at the center of Wohl's script are, by dramatic necessity, somewhat emblematic (an older housewife, a radical lesbian, a pretty young career woman, etc), but they are based on women Wohl's mother actually knew and organized with (some of whom Wohl interviewed), and they come through as specific, fully realized individuals, sharing not only their frustrations but also their triumphs, insecurities, and joys. Through it all, Lizzie's daughter (also played by Flood and also, oddly, named Lizzie) occasionally peeks through as both narrator and observer, trying to reconcile the rhetoric she's hearing with the more traditional gender roles Lizzie and her husband fell into once they married and started a family.

Under Whitney White's deftly paced direction, the stellar cast delivers personal stories, political debates, and zinging asides with impeccable timing. Flood moves between playing idealistic mother and disappointed daughter, showing how the challenges and contradictions of feminism change, or don't, for successive generations. Irene Sofia Lucio takes no prisoners as the impatient, action-oriented Isidora, fully convincing us that she has never hesitated to say exactly what she thinks. Kristolyn Lloyd plays Celeste, a writer and her ailing mother's primary caregiver, with a sense of tightly wound control, precisely capturing the distinctive seventies cadence that has faded from our speech while musing on the tension between freedom and love. Betsy Aidem imbues Margie, a fed-up sixty-something housewife, with a wry, seen-it-all detachment, until she shifts modes to connect in a way we haven't seen before, to heartbreaking effect. Adina Verson brings a raw, coltish feel to Susie, in contrast to Audrey Corsa's halting, confined Dora. Kayla Davion and Charlie Thurston round out the cast with compelling supporting roles that each, in their own way, denote some of the limits of the vision of second-wave feminists.

The costume design (Qween Jean) deserves special mention: not only are the clothes convincingly of the era without feeling like loud polyester signifiers, each woman wears outfits suited to her personality and her situation: though their politics overlap, the brassy, chic Isidora would never wear the same clothes as the androgynous Susie. The gymnasium/basketball court stage design (David Zinn) conveys the slightly sweaty, intimate arena where these women meet to share their lives, under pennants celebrating male competition.

Liberation looks at second-wave feminism through a lens of love and loss: not only is Lizzie grieving her mother, but she is mourning the more equal world we were supposed to have by now, and looking for answers as to how and why we fell short. Though her characters may disagree, Wohl's work is an essential part of getting that promise back.

Liberation. Through January 11, 2026 at the James Earl Jones Theatre (138 West 48th Street, between Sixth and Seventh Avenues).