Reviews

Amber Ruffin delivers a heartfelt cryptid romp about identity, acceptance and corrupt politicians. Cast is amazing, and the songs are memorable and fun!

I saw Mexodus at the Daryl Roth Theatre at the Tuesday matinee on April 14, and ninety minutes was not enough. I wanted another thirty, at minimum. I would have stayed for the whole thing again.

This is a live-looping hip-hop musical created and performed by Brian Quijada and Nygel D. Robinson, directed by David Mendizábal, and it tells a chapter of American history that most of us were never taught. You know the Underground Railroad that ran north. This show takes you on the one that ran south, tracing the journey of thousands of enslaved people who crossed the Rio Grande into Mexico to find freedom. The story is fictional, but it is rooted in real history, and the show wears that responsibility lightly enough to let the joy breathe without ever letting you forget the weight underneath it.

The afternoon I attended, Alan Mendez stepped in as an understudy for Carlos, and he was phenomenal. Completely in command, fully committed, and seamlessly matched with Quijada at every turn. Not for a single moment did the show feel like anything other than a fully realized, fully inhabited performance. If I had not known going in, I would not have guessed. That kind of coverage speaks to how well this production is built and how strong its bench is.

The live looping alone is worth the price of admission. Instruments including guitar, harmonica, accordion, trumpet, drums, and piano get layered in real time until the stage is full of music that two people somehow conjured from scratch in front of you. The score pulls from hip-hop, reggaeton, gospel, jazz, and soul, and it never feels like a grab bag. It feels like a living thing.

But the technical wizardry would mean nothing without the story and the heart, and this show has both in abundance. It is funny, genuinely funny, and then serious, and then moving, and then funny again, and the transitions never feel jarring because the performers are so completely in command of the room. The history lands because the people land first.

This is one of those rare shows that is educational and entertaining in equal measure, where you never feel lectured and never feel like you are just being dazzled. It all means something. Every beat earns its place. I left wanting more time in that world, more story, more music, more of whatever that was. Go while it is still running.

I caught the final performance of Transcendency Rising: Short Plays About Defying Limitation, presented by Theater Breaking Through Barriers at Theatre Five at Theatre Row, and I left genuinely glad I went and genuinely annoyed at myself for not going sooner.

Theater Breaking Through Barriers is Off-Broadway's leading theater company advancing artists with disabilities, and this evening brought together celebrated voices in American theater to explore transcendence, specifically the act of moving beyond challenging circumstances toward something greater. The playwrights include Pulitzer Prize and Academy Award winner John Patrick Shanley, Tony Award nominees Lyle Kessler and Bekah Brunstetter, alongside Cate Allen, Kathryn Grant, and Jeff Tabnick. That is a serious roster, and the work largely reflects it.

The plays offer moving, provocative, and often unexpected portraits of resilience, illuminating moments when individuals dare to transcend circumstance, expectation, and self-imposed boundaries. Most of them land. A couple don't, but since the run is over, there is no reason to name names. Even the weaker pieces were watchable, and none derailed the evening.

The company features performers with and without disabilities, embodying the belief that artistic excellence and disability are not mutually exclusive but mutually enriching. All performances were fully captioned with audio description throughout, a reminder of what inclusive theater can look like when a company builds it into the DNA of the production rather than treating it as an afterthought.

A loose but effective theme of wishing to be seen ties the works together, and when the evening is firing, that thread holds beautifully. I wish the run had been longer. Worth your time if it ever returns, and I will keep my eye on Theater Breaking Through Barriers from now on!

I caught Burnout Paradise at the Astor Place Theatre for its first preview, and it felt exactly right in that space. Long the home of Blue Man Group, the venue is built for spectacle and slightly unhinged performance art. This new import from the Australian collective Pony Cam fits that lineage perfectly. It is not a traditional play. It is not even really a traditional comedy. It is a high-octane, interactive endurance event disguised as a game show.

The premise is simple and ridiculous in the best way: five performers, four treadmills, one hour. Over four 15-minute intervals, they must complete an absurd series of tasks: cooking, paperwork, logistical nonsense, all while running. If they fail to complete the list by the end of the hour, the audience is promised their money back. I have yet to find evidence of a payout from any previous run, and at the preview I attended they mentioned having completed all tasks in but one of their two dress rehearsals. So the stakes feel real, even if the odds are probably in their favor.

What followed was a full-on romp of silliness and chaos. Each treadmill functions as its own “station,” and the performers bounce between frantic focus and comedic breakdown. The cast I saw—Hugo Williams, William Strom, Claire Bird, Dominic Weintraub, and Ava Campbell—were all hilarious and impressively disciplined. This is not random flailing. They are clearly well-rehearsed in the mechanics of what they are attempting, which makes the near-misses and mounting pressure even funnier. Their chemistry is loose and generous, and they know exactly how to play to the room.

The show is completely interactive. Phone usage is encouraged. Audience members are frequently needed to complete tasks, and there is no formal selection process. If you want to help, you stand up, walk to the stage, and jump in. They actively invite it. That openness creates a different energy from most theatre. You are not just watching people race the clock; you are part of the machine trying to beat it. The unpredictability is real, and that is the thrill. Interaction is not required, so if you want, you can just sit back and enjoy the chaos.

Burnout Paradise is currently scheduled through June 28, and I would absolutely go back. They claim every performance is unique, and based on the format, I believe it. Just don’t expect plot, character arcs, or emotional catharsis. This is about momentum, spectacle, and the absurdity of trying to accomplish too much in too little time. It is chaotic, communal, and a genuine blast. I hope it sticks around long enough for more people to take the plunge.

There was a big bonus for me at the very end, being a lover of a certain music video that involves treadmills. :)

Down the Rabbit Hole

SoHo Playhouse — March 4, 2026, 9:00 PM

Michael Shaw Fisher has a gift for the outrageous that does not announce itself as such. His Exorcistic snuck up on audiences with its gonzo energy and genuine wit. Now, with The Amazing Sex Life of Rabbits, his Off-Broadway debut at SoHo Playhouse, he pulls the same trick from a different angle: a dinner party comedy that presents itself as farce and quietly, then not so quietly, reveals itself as something with actual teeth.

The setup is classic. Bobby and Elise are broke, stalled, and sharing a collegiate futon in a modest apartment. He is a former professor of literature now substitute teaching. Her business has failed. Into this precarity arrives Danielle, Bobby's ex-wife, now a best-selling sex therapist, alongside her billionaire husband Carson. The reunion is, naturally, not purely social. The wealthy couple have a proposal. What follows is 75 minutes of escalating revelations, each one more brazen than the last, a Jenga tower of bad ideas and worse decisions that somehow never collapses.

This is, at its core, an Indecent Proposal for the current moment, with the class anxiety dialed up and the veneer of politeness stripped away faster than you might expect. Fisher is not interested in letting anyone off the hook, including the audience. The question the play keeps returning to is the oldest and most reliable one in the repertoire of moral drama: what exactly is your price? And more uncomfortably: do you actually know it?

What rescues the show from its more mechanical moments is the cast. Richardson Cisneros-Jones as Carson is the clear standout, a man whose ego enters the room several beats before the rest of him does. He takes Fisher's sharpest lines and wrings them until they yield everything they have. Leigh Wulff as Elise brings a grounded anxiety to a role that could easily have tipped into caricature. Rebecca Larsen's Danielle is all composed menace, the smile of someone holding considerably better cards than anyone else at the table. Schoen Hodges as Bobby is the audience surrogate, the man in the room who is simultaneously the most reasonable and the most compromised, and Hodges navigates that contradiction with charm and genuine comic timing.

The show is not without unevenness. The first fifteen minutes find their footing slowly, laying groundwork that the play later earns but initially strains against. And certain resolutions arrive with slightly less force than the setup has promised. But Fisher has a talent that is worth naming specifically: he structures revelations the way a good magician structures a trick, keeping you focused on the wrong hand until it is far too late.

At 75 minutes, it asks very little of your time. It asks rather more of your comfort. That is a worthwhile trade.

The Amazing Sex Life of Rabbits ran at SoHo Playhouse, part of the International Fringe Encore Series, through March 28, 2026. Running time is 75 minutes, no intermission.

There is a particular kind of bravery in solo performance, the kind that requires a performer to hold a room with nothing but wit, a body, and an idea. Issy Knowles has all three in abundance. Body Count, her one-woman show currently enjoying an encore run at SoHo Playhouse as part of the International Fringe Encore Series, is both genuinely funny and quietly devastating, sometimes in the same breath.

The premise is audacious: Pollie, an OnlyFans creator, is mid-livestream, mid-marathon, attempting to sleep with 1,000 subscribers in a single session in New York City. The play unfolds in real time within that event, which gives Knowles a pressure-cooker framework from which to unspool something far more intimate. We move backwards and sideways through Pollie's life: a confusing Catholic upbringing, a failed corporate consulting career, the seductive pull of quick money and quicker validation.

What makes Body Count more than a provocation is its empathy. Knowles is a skilled physical comedian. Her impressions of the parade of subscribers who show up to participate are sharply observed and wickedly timed, but she never lets the laughs entirely obscure the loneliness underneath. Pollie can switch from overhyped, performative sexuality to quiet, hollow resignation in a heartbeat. That tonal whiplash is deliberate and effective, and it's where the play earns its keep.

The central question Knowles poses, whether it is ever truly possible to sever your body from your heart, is not a new one. But she arrives at it through a contemporary and culturally specific lens, engaging directly with the media frenzy around content creators who have attempted these stunts and the fractious debate they've sparked among feminists, moralists, and the endlessly scrolling internet alike. The play doesn't tell you what to think. It does something more uncomfortable: it makes you feel what Pollie feels, even as you're laughing at the absurdity of her situation.

If the piece occasionally strains under the weight of everything it wants to say, it never loses its footing for long. Knowles is a commanding, charismatic presence, and her instincts as a performer consistently outpace any structural wobble.

Body Count is inventive, provocative, and sharper than its premise suggests. Don't let the title fool you. This one's about the cost, and Knowles makes sure you feel every cent.

My Rating: 4/5

WRITTEN & PERFORMED BY Issy Knowles
DIRECTED BY Alice Wordsworth
LIGHTING & SOUND DESIGN BY Sam Levy
PRODUCED BY Julia Salkin

A Love Letter (and a Reality Check) to the Stage

Fresh from its accolades at the Edinburgh Fringe and a successful run in London, I Wish My Life Were Like a Musical has finally strutted onto the stage at SoHo Playhouse. This 70-minute comedic revue is a relentless, high-energy deep dive into the glittering (and often grimy) world of musical theatre. It tracks the chronological "caper" of the performer’s life, following four wide-eyed drama students as they navigate the treacherous path from hopeful extras to seasoned (and sometimes slightly bitter) divas.

The production is anchored by a phenomenal four-person ensemble: Elizabeth Mandell, Madelyn Whitehead, Tyler Gallaher, and Sam Brackley. Each performer brings a distinct flair to the stage, filling their roles to a T. Whether they are portraying a chorus member desperately trying to be noticed or a brattish lead whose ego has outgrown the dressing room, the chemistry between the four is palpable. They masterfully balance the "wit, whimsy, and warmth" promised by creator Alexander S. Bermange, making the audience feel like they are part of a private, backstage confession.

One of the standout elements of this production is the songwriting. Bermange’s lyrics are tight, sharp, and incredibly well-written, landing every punchline with precision. From the strain of trying to hit an impossible high note to the absurdity of "debilitating dance routines," the songs resonate with anyone who has ever spent time in a theater seat or in the wings. It’s no surprise that this show has garnered over 50 five-star reviews; the material is clearly written by someone who loves the genre enough to lovingly poke fun at its every flaw.

Complementing the brilliant score is choreography that can only be described as "killer." In a small, intimate space like the SoHo Playhouse, the precision of the movements is even more impressive. The cast executes limb-spraining kicks and intricate sequences with an athletic grace that mirrors the very "mid-performance mishaps" and grueling standards they are singing about. It’s a meta-commentary on the physical toll of the stage, delivered with a smile and a perfectly timed jazz hand.

The show doesn’t just focus on the actors, though. It turns a hilarious mirror toward the audience, skewering everything from stage-struck superfans to the harsh critics and "detractors" who populate the stalls. It lifts the lid on the backstage backstabbing and off-stage feuds that are just as dramatic as the scripts themselves. Yet, for all the cynicism and satire regarding "awful auditions" and "never-was" careers, the show never loses its heart. It consistently returns to those magical, fleeting moments that make the struggle of a life in the theater entirely worthwhile.

Ultimately, I Wish My Life Were Like a Musical is an essential watch for any theater devotee. It captures the unique obsession that drives people to the stage and the joy that keeps them there. Seeing it on the same day as Hold On To Your Butts made for a perfect SoHo Playhouse double-feature: one show celebrating the lo-fi imagination of cinema, and the other celebrating the high-stakes reality of the musical stage. If you have ever hummed a showtune in the shower or dreamed of your name in lights, this show is talking directly to you.

The lo-fi brilliance of Recent Cutbacks has returned to New York with Hold On To Your Butts and the 60-minute non-stop laugh fest at SoHo Playhouse is a prehistoric triumph. This shot-for-shot parody of Jurassic Park relies on nothing but physical theater, a handful of simple props, and pure comedic timing to recreate Spielberg’s epic blockbuster. Starring Nick Abeel, Kerry Ipema, and Natalie Rich, the ensemble is remarkably tight. Watching the performers take on every single role, including the dinosaurs, is a masterclass in imaginative acting. A particular highlight for me was seeing both leads deliver pitch-perfect, bumbling Jeff Goldblum impressions that had the audience in stitches.

What elevates the production from a simple spoof to an event worth seeing is the presence of the on-stage foley artist. Every roar, cork pop, rustle of the jungle, and iconic "Barbasol" whisper is created live, providing a hilarious backtrack of sound design. It’s a family-friendly show that manages to be both a nostalgic tribute for fans and a high-energy comedy for newcomers. Since the performers rotate through their roles, each show promises a slightly different energy, making it well worth a repeat visit. It runs through most of March 2026, so be sure to catch it before it goes extinct!

Attending Josh Glanc’s set at the SoHo Playhouse on Friday night, it became immediately clear why he is a recurring highlight of the Fringe Encore Series. This series is designed to showcase the "best of the best" from the international fringe circuit, and Glanc, a master of high-energy, "oddball" Australian humor, delivered a roughly 55-minute masterclass in surrealist comedy that felt perfectly suited for the venue's historic, intimate atmosphere.

Glanc’s performance style sits at the intersection of stand-up and avant-garde clowning. The show thrives on a precarious balance of intentional awkwardness and manic precision. He utilizes heavy repetition not as a simple gimmick, but as a psychological tool; he repeats a phrase or entire bits until they move past being "just a joke," through a valley of discomfort, and finally emerges on the other side as something very funny. It is a bold comedic choice that requires an immense amount of confidence and timing to pull off without losing the room.

The audience interaction is perhaps the most distinctive element of the set. Rather than the typical, often-tired "crowd work" involving light interrogation about hometowns or occupations, Glanc weaves participants directly into the fabric of his sketches. He treats the audience as collaborators in his chaos.

As someone who was made part of the act myself, I found the experience to be delightfully unpredictable. The interactions were built on simple, low-stakes prompts that Glanc skillfully spiraled into moments of high-tension absurdity. Some audience members were utilized for quick sight gags, while others became recurring characters in his fever-dream narrative. This inclusivity makes the show feel less like a performance being watched and more like a shared experience being survived.

Ultimately, Glanc’s set is a testament to the power of the "alt-comedy" scene. It is 55 minutes of fast-paced, unhinged, and deeply smart nonsense. For those who enjoy comedy that breaks the fourth wall and leans into the strange, Glanc remains an essential voice in the contemporary fringe landscape.

Josh is appearing through February 14, so get tickets before he returns Down Under.