The musical A Man of No Importance, set in 1960s Dublin, delved thoughtfully into how love, community, and art can be spiritual bulwarks for a closeted queer person amid homophobia and conservatism. At Speakeasy Theater, this wonderfully acted and staged performance addressed queer themes of both “coming in” to oneself and coming out to the world with emotional depth, vigor, and bravery.

Paul Daigneault directed this beautifully produced musical, his last show after 34 years at the helm of the Speakeasy Stage Company, which he founded. Performed live by on-stage musicians, the music lent a rich emotional tenor to the ups and downs of the protagonist’s journey. Daigneault’s swan song at Speakeasy Stage was the New England Premiere of the recently reimagined version of a beloved classic, written by Terrence McNally.

In the play, Alfie Byrne, a bus conductor, loves the poetry of Oscar Wilde and enjoys staging amateur productions with his local theater troupe. Church officials, however, shut down his upcoming play for its alleged perversity, turning Alfie’s life upside down. A Man of No Importance addresses queer life and challenges from the perspective of a closeted gay man. It does so by giving his particular set of concerns depth, without leaning into dramatized stereotypes of life as a queer person. While the homophobic violence of the time is thoughtfully brought to life on stage, Alfie’s identity is portrayed as much more nuanced than this painful reality.

Alfie — acted brilliantly by Eddie Shields — loves earnestly and passionately. But he is well-versed in how to hide his love in a world that sees his authentic self as a threat. He charmingly reads his beloved Oscar Wilde poetry out loud to his bus riders, but hides this side of himself when his supervisor angrily checks in. He also conceals his romantic desires to avoid rocking the boat in his family and in his friendships. But the time comes when it becomes impossible to both love fully and to hide his feelings. A Man of No Importance explores what it means to balance self-preservation and self-acceptance. It also poignantly delves into the question: When forced out of one’s private world and into direct confrontation with a hostile society, who or what can one lean on?

This nuanced take on “coming out” – which is rooted in but goes beyond queer identity – was a beautiful, complex, and moving performance.