Reviews

I saw Passengers at Perelman Performing Arts Center on June 18, at 7pm, performed by The 7 Fingers. I loved it. Like, a lot.

This is part dance, part acrobatics, part clowning, and completely captivating from start to finish. What impressed me most was how seamlessly everything connected. Each moment flowed into the next with intention and clarity, more cohesively than I usually see in shows built around physical performance. Nothing felt random or slapped together.

It was genuinely moving. The stories landed without dialogue doing the heavy lifting. The performers communicated emotion through timing, movement, and trust in each other. The talent level is off the charts. Strength, control, musicality, and presence are all operating at a very high level.

It works as a date night. It works as a family outing. It also works if you just want to sit back and watch people do things with their bodies that should not be possible. This one stuck with me.

Parodying a cultural behemoth like Titanic is no small feat, but Titanique, now playing Off-Broadway at the Daryl Roth Theatre, pulls it off with wild abandon and impressive precision. This musical spoof mixes the plot of the beloved film with the music of Céline Dion, resulting in a show that feels equal parts absurd spectacle and tightly crafted comic gold.

What truly sets Titanique apart is its use of comedic timing and improvisation. The script is solid, but the magic happens in the moments when the actors break out of it. This is not a show afraid to react to its audience or to the world outside its doors. Each night feels different, thanks to a cast that is as quick on their feet as they are strong in their vocals. The humor lands fast and hard, with a rhythm that would make a seasoned stand-up proud. It feels fresh, unpredictable, and alive.

Leading the charge is Amber Ardolino, who plays Céline Dion as a kind of celestial diva dropped into the Titanic story to explain what really happened. Her performance is commanding, hilarious, and vocally stunning. Mindelle’s comedic instincts are impeccable, and her presence gives the show its unhinged but focused core. She does not just spoof Dion—she channels her, then turns her into something mythic.

The rest of the cast is equally strong. Max Jenkins plays Jack with a delightful mix of deadpan sincerity and comic timing. His straight-man energy keeps the chaos grounded. As Rose, Cassadee Pope brings vocal power and a knack for pushing punchlines to the edge without going too far. Both performers manage to maintain genuine chemistry while also leaning fully into the show’s campy energy.

Barnaby Reiter understudied as Ruth and was perfection. Kyle Ramar Freeman gave perfect comedic timing and performances over and over.

Director Tye Blue keeps the production moving at a brisk pace, allowing space for improv while maintaining structure. The show knows when to let a moment breathe and when to punch it up. There is a looseness that feels intentional rather than messy, a testament to how well-rehearsed and in-sync the company is.

In the end, Titanique is not just a parody. It is a loving, ridiculous celebration of two pop culture icons: the film Titanic and the music of Céline Dion. With a wildly talented cast, whip-smart improv, and spot-on comedic timing, it earns every laugh and then some. It is not only seaworthy—it soars.

I bought a magnet.

Lisa Sanaye Dring's Sumo, now making its New York premiere at The Public Theater, plunges audiences into the rarely-seen world of elite sumo wrestling, offering a visceral and thought-provoking exploration of masculinity, ambition, and the arduous process of self-discovery. Entrenched in a rigorous training facility in Tokyo, six men practice, eat, love, play, and ultimately fight, their lives intertwined in a complex tapestry of competition, camaraderie, and cultural expectation. This compelling drama, co-produced by Ma-Yi Theater Company and La Jolla Playhouse and directed by Ralph B. Peña, captivates from its opening moments to its emotionally resonant conclusion.

From the outset, Sumo establishes a unique theatrical language, employing three wry narrators whose presence—part divine observers, part muses, part cultural commentators—adds a layer of humor and insightful perspective. Their dialogue is sharp and witty, offering observations on the rituals and traditions of sumo while also providing context for the uninitiated. They pop up throughout the performance, sometimes explaining cultural nuances, sometimes offering a detached yet knowing commentary on the unfolding drama. While their exact nature remains delightfully ambiguous, their presence enhances the story rather than distracting from it, providing a clever framework for navigating the complex world of sumo and the internal struggles of its practitioners.

The play centers around Akio, an ambitious and initially arrogant 18-year-old who arrives at the training facility with dreams of validation, dominance, and fame. He quickly discovers that the path to success in sumo is paved with grueling discipline, physical sacrifice, and a profound emotional toll. His journey is not just about mastering the techniques of the sport but also about confronting his own limitations, prejudices, and ultimately, his understanding of what it means to be a man. Akio's trajectory is compelling, marked by both setbacks and small victories, and his eventual transformation feels earned and authentic.

Dring’s writing skillfully crafts a rich ensemble of characters, each wrestler with his own distinct personality, motivations, and insecurities. The dynamics between these men are complex, shifting from fierce rivalry to deep bonds of brotherhood. The play effectively portrays the intense pressure they face, not only from their coaches and sponsors but also from the weight of tradition and the expectations of their culture. They are constantly judged, not just on their physical prowess but also on their adherence to a strict code of conduct that dictates everything from their diet to their social interactions.

What truly elevates Sumo is its unflinching exploration of masculinity. The play challenges traditional notions of strength and dominance, revealing the vulnerability and emotional depth that lie beneath the surface of these seemingly larger-than-life figures. The sumo ring becomes a microcosm of societal pressures, where men are expected to be tough, stoic, and unwavering in their pursuit of victory. Yet, Sumo suggests that true strength lies not only in physical power but also in the courage to confront one's own weaknesses and embrace vulnerability.

One of the most compelling aspects of Sumo is its exploration of the complex relationships between the wrestlers. Dring's writing delves beneath the surface of these seemingly stoic athletes, revealing a range of emotions and unexpected connections. The play subtly explores the challenges faced by those who dare to defy societal expectations, highlighting the tension between personal desires and the pressures to conform to traditional norms. This exploration adds a layer of depth and emotional resonance to the narrative, enriching the play's examination of identity and acceptance.

The scenes depicting sumo wrestling tournaments are remarkably believable. While choreographed, the actors' performances are so convincing that they effectively capture the raw power and athleticism of the sport. They embody the physicality of sumo with remarkable skill, creating a sense of genuine tension and excitement that draws the audience into the heart of each match. Even though the outcomes are predetermined, the actors' commitment to their roles makes every clash feel unpredictable and engaging. The energy in these scenes is palpable, and the dedication to realistically portraying this demanding sport is evident.

The production elements of Sumo are equally impressive. The set design, though minimalist, effectively creates the atmosphere of the sumo training facility. Central to the stage is the dohyō (sumo ring), which serves as the primary setting for the majority of the play. This design choice cleverly reinforces the importance of the ring, not just as a physical space for competition, but as a symbolic arena where the characters grapple with their ambitions, fears, and ultimately, their identities. The costumes are authentic and functional, highlighting the physicality of the wrestlers.

Further enhancing the production are the lighting and sound design, which work seamlessly to create a sense of immersion. The unique projections utilized throughout the show add a remarkable layer of depth and richness to the visual storytelling. These projections, ranging from subtle textures to more explicit imagery, effectively enhance the emotional impact of key scenes and provide a visual counterpoint to the physical action on stage. But perhaps the most striking element of the production is the live taiko drumming by Shih-Wei Wu. The powerful rhythms of the taiko drums underscore the intensity of the wrestling matches, adding a visceral and almost primal dimension to the performance. The drumming is not just background music; it becomes an integral part of the storytelling, amplifying the emotional impact of key moments and creating a sense of ritual and tradition.

Ralph B. Peña's direction is masterful, bringing Dring's script to life with a keen eye for detail and a deep understanding of the characters. The pacing of the play is generally excellent, building tension gradually and allowing the emotional weight of the story to resonate fully. However, there were moments where the pacing lagged slightly, a momentary drag that threatened to disrupt the momentum. Some tighter directing or quicker dialogue in certain scenes could potentially alleviate this issue. Yet, these brief lulls were quickly overshadowed by the compelling narrative and strong performances, ultimately proving to be a minor, non-deal-breaking flaw. Peña effectively utilizes the stage space, creating dynamic stage pictures and ensuring that the audience is fully engaged in the unfolding drama.

Sumo is not just a play about sumo wrestling; it is a play about the human condition. It explores universal themes of ambition, identity, belonging, and the search for meaning in a world that often imposes narrow definitions of success. It is a play that challenges us to examine our own preconceptions about masculinity and to consider the pressures faced by those who strive to achieve their dreams, often against considerable odds.

This powerful and moving drama will stay with you long after you leave the theater. It is a must-see for anyone interested in character-driven stories, explorations of masculinity, or simply a compelling and thought-provoking theatrical experience. Sumo is a triumph of playwriting, acting, directing, and design, offering a unique and unforgettable glimpse into a world rarely seen onstage. I highly recommend it.

I saw this show with a free ticket I acquired through the Theatr App.

Vinny DePonto wants to know your deep, dark secrets. He says so himself. As a mentalist, exploring minds is his specialty, and any audience member attending Mindplay at Greenwich House Theater runs the risk of DePonto seeing straight into their soul. But this isn't some ominous, shadowy ritual. It is a mesmerizing, often humorous, deeply engaging theatrical experience that blends magic, psychology, and storytelling into a uniquely immersive evening.

Co-created by DePonto and Josh Koenigsberg and directed by Andrew Neisler, Mindplay is not merely a demonstration of mentalism but an exploration of the human mind itself: its memories, anxieties, and uncanny ability to be both deceived and delighted. Over the course of 85 minutes, DePonto invites us into his own "memory palace," a conceptual space where he stores and organizes recollections, guiding us through his personal history and, in doing so, unlocking pieces of our own.

As a seasoned magician and mentalist, DePonto's skills are indisputable, but Mindplay is not just about tricks. It is a theatrical meditation on memory, nostalgia, and the fragility of human recollection. Through storytelling, audience participation, and striking visual elements including shadowplay and projected images, DePonto crafts an experience that feels simultaneously intimate and grand.

An Invitation to Vulnerability

From the moment the audience enters the theater, they are part of the show. Each attendee is asked to write down something that has been weighing on their mind: a fear, a memory, a dream. These anonymous confessions form the backbone of the evening's illusions, as DePonto seamlessly weaves them into his narrative. At various points, he retrieves slips from the bowl and astonishes the crowd by revealing intimate details about their contents, connecting them to the broader themes of the show.

Despite his ability to seemingly read minds, DePonto never feels invasive. His stage presence is warm, disarming, and intimately human. He balances acts of revelation with moments of self-reflection, sharing memories of his childhood, his fascination with mentalism, and the emotional weight of recalling moments long past. His humor, self-deprecation, and gentle manner make even the most apprehensive participants feel at ease, encouraging them to embrace the experience rather than fear it.

The Art of Deception and Memory

One of the show's central themes is the fallibility of memory. DePonto explores how our recollections are often unreliable, shaped by emotions, biases, and time. He demonstrates this through a series of illusions that challenge the audience's perception, making them question what they just saw or heard. A whispered word passed through a chain of people morphs into something unrecognizable by the time it reaches its final recipient. A shared memory turns out to be a fabrication. A simple deck of cards becomes a tool for uncovering long-buried emotions.

Throughout the performance, DePonto references real-world examples of memory manipulation, including the work of Solomon Shereshevsky, a mnemonist with an extraordinary ability to recall details and an equal inability to forget them. He draws parallels between Shereshevsky's mind and our own, prompting the audience to consider how much of what we remember is true and how much is reconstructed from the fragments of lived experience.

The Role of Audience Participation

Mindplay is not a passive experience. DePonto directly involves the audience, selecting individuals to join him on stage for various demonstrations. In my performance, participants moved through a spectrum of emotions: nervous laughter giving way to astonishment, then reverence, then genuine introspection. Whether revealing a hidden thought, predicting a participant's actions, or uncovering connections between complete strangers, DePonto crafts something that feels both personal and communal.

The show never feels exploitative. Unlike mentalism acts that rely on shock value or manipulation, Mindplay is built on trust and mutual curiosity. Even when DePonto seems to pluck a thought directly from someone's mind, his reactions carry no smugness. They are gentle, understanding, and laced with wonder.

A Theatrical Experience, Not Just a Magic Show

While Mindplay is, at its core, a mentalism performance, it also functions as fully realized theater. The production design, led by scenic designer Sibyl Wickersheimer, transforms Greenwich House Theater into a dreamlike space that shifts in mood and texture. Lighting and projections play a significant role in enhancing the show's themes, creating a visual poetry that underscores DePonto's narrative. Darkness and shadow render the mind as an enigmatic, ever-shifting landscape, while brighter sequences offer warmth and familiarity.

This is where Mindplay diverges from a traditional magic show. It is not a series of tricks but a structured theatrical experience with a clear emotional arc. It invites audiences to reflect on their own memories, fears, and desires, elevating the work beyond spectacle into something more enduring.

A Personal Perspective

I came into Mindplay with a degree of skepticism, carrying a foundational understanding of mentalism from my college years. I expected to be entertained. I also assumed I might see through some of the techniques. I was fooled more than once. DePonto's skill is undeniable, but what surprised me most was how emotionally invested I became.

There were moments where the show felt less like a performance and more like a conversation: not just between DePonto and the audience, but among everyone in the room. We became part of something ephemeral, a collective exploration of thought and memory. When the show ended, I left not only impressed but contemplative, my mind buzzing with questions about what I had witnessed and what it revealed about the nature of perception itself.

Final Thoughts

Mindplay is a masterful blend of magic, psychology, and storytelling that transcends the boundaries of traditional mentalism. Vinny DePonto is not just a magician. He is a storyteller, a philosopher, and a guide into the hidden recesses of the human mind. The show is both dazzling and deeply introspective, leaving audiences not just entertained but enriched.

For those seeking jaw-dropping illusions, Mindplay delivers. For those open to something more, a journey into memory, identity, and the fragile beauty of human perception, it offers an experience that lingers long after the final curtain.

Highly recommended.

To say I enjoyed Dead as a Dodo is somewhat of an understatement. My jaw was open throughout most of it. The artistry was mesmerizing. The vocals? Sublime. The puppets and scenery? Pure magic.

From the moment the show began, I knew I was witnessing something special. Dead as a Dodo is unlike anything I’ve seen before—a mix of breathtaking puppetry, stunning visuals, hauntingly beautiful music, and a story that is at once heartbreaking and hopeful. Wakka Wakka Productions has created something truly remarkable, and I only wish the run had been longer so I could have gone back to see it again (and maybe again after that).

The show’s premise alone is intriguing—a skeletal Dodo and a boy navigating the underworld, surviving by collecting bones until something impossible happens: the Dodo starts to regrow its feathers. What unfolds is a tale of transformation and survival, but also one of deep friendship. There’s a sense of wonder woven into every moment, and despite its themes of death and decay, the production pulses with life.

Visually, Dead as a Dodo is mesmerizing. The puppetry is some of the best I’ve ever seen, seamlessly blending intricate craftsmanship with fluid, expressive movement. The characters feel alive—more than alive, really. They radiate emotion, even though they’re built from wood, fabric, and bones. The skeletal aesthetic of the underworld is both eerie and beautiful, and the production's ability to create such a rich, immersive world with puppets and scenery alone is nothing short of extraordinary.

And then there’s the music. The vocals soar, weaving through the narrative like a spell, drawing you in deeper. The melodies linger long after the show ends, haunting and exquisite. There are moments of such raw vocal beauty that I found myself holding my breath, not wanting to break the spell. The combination of sound and visuals creates a fully immersive experience, transporting the audience completely into this strange, wonderful underworld.

But it’s not just the spectacle that makes Dead as a Dodo unforgettable—it’s the heart. This is a story that stays with you. It explores themes of mortality, change, and what it means to hold on to hope in the face of the impossible. The friendship between the Dodo and the boy is deeply moving, a reminder that even in the darkest places, connection and love can still thrive. I found myself emotionally invested in their journey in a way I wasn’t expecting, and by the end, I was both devastated and uplifted.

Leaving the theater, I kept thinking about how rare it is to see something so completely original, so full of artistry and meaning. I wanted to turn around and walk right back in, to experience it all over again. I’ve seen plenty of theater that’s moved me, but Dead as a Dodo hit differently—it felt like stepping into a dream that I never wanted to wake up from.

For those who missed its NYC run, there are still chances to see it. The next performances will be at the Gangneung Arts Center in Gangneung, South Korea on May 17, 2025, then at the Chuncheon Culture & Arts Center in Chuncheon, South Korea (May 23-24, 2025), and finally in Charleville-Mézières, France from September 19-25, 2025 as part of the Festival Mondial des Théâtres de Marionnettes. If you have the opportunity to go, don’t hesitate—this is the kind of show that doesn’t come around often, and it deserves to be seen and celebrated.

I don’t say this lightly: Dead as a Dodo is one of the most stunning theatrical experiences I’ve ever had. It’s bold, beautiful, and utterly unforgettable. I can only hope that one day it returns so I can sit in that audience once more, jaw dropped, completely in awe.

I attended Saw: The Musical, The Unauthorized Parody of Saw at the New Box Theater on Saturday, December 28, 2024, having previously seen it at the AMT Theater in September 2023. While I went in with some optimism based on improvements I’d heard about, this performance left me feeling disappointed overall.

The New Box Theater is much smaller than the AMT, which initially gave me hope that the show would feel more intimate and engaging. However, after climbing four flights of narrow, steep stairs (not ideal for someone with arthritis), I found myself struggling to enjoy the experience. Despite being just 10-15 feet away from the performers, I often couldn’t understand what they were singing due to the overpowering volume of the musical tracks and the performers not being mic’d. This was a shared frustration with my partner, who echoed my sentiments about the overwhelming music drowning out the vocals.

The venue itself was fine, with narrow but fairly standard NYC seating. The issue wasn’t the space but the lack of microphones. To make matters worse, several scenes featured characters wearing large, full-head rubber pig masks, which made any dialogue or singing from inside them completely unintelligible. Mic’ing the performers and balancing the sound levels would have made a world of difference.

The actress in the cast stood out the most for me, but unfortunately, I couldn’t identify her because there were no programs—digital or otherwise—to let me know who was playing which role. While what I could hear of the music sounded fine, the piano accompaniment felt monotonous at times, banging away at full volume without much nuance. The lyrics, true to parody form, were humorous, though much of their impact was lost due to poor audibility.

The writing was a mixed bag. Some jokes landed well, particularly with an audience that was clearly far more enthusiastic about the show than I was. Many attendees brought squeaky pig souvenirs—or purchased them for $2 on-site—and delighted in squeaking them during the performance, cackling at nearly every joke. That shared enthusiasm added to the energy of the room, even if the material didn’t resonate with me personally. However, much of the humor felt inconsistent. While some lines were genuinely funny, others were nonsensical, fell flat, or relied too heavily on cheap gags that failed to elevate the parody.

The show leaned heavily into the queer undertones of the Saw franchise, an interpretation that has long been discussed among fans and one I don’t oppose. In fact, exploring this subtext could have been a compelling and clever subplot, adding depth and nuance to the parody. Unfortunately, the execution felt repetitive and shallow. Instead of thoughtfully engaging with the idea, the show reduced it to a series of overplayed “will they/won’t they” moments and predictable gay innuendos. Jokes about dildos, eroticism, and pants-stuffing quickly became tiresome, detracting from the potential for something sharper and more meaningful. Rather than adding dimension to the characters or humor, these moments came across as uninspired and at times undercut the parody’s ability to fully capitalize on the clever premise of merging horror with camp comedy.

On a positive note, the production value suited the show’s parody nature. The low-budget set and creative lighting were effective, and the team has tightened the show since last year. Scene changes, which were previously excruciatingly slow (some taking up to 2-3 minutes), were much quicker this time. However, the decision to forego microphones in this smaller venue was a huge misstep, and it significantly impacted my ability to enjoy the performance.

The “splash zone,” though hyped up by the show, was underwhelming. My TDF tickets, priced at $37 compared to $58 non-discounted, were not supposed to be in the splash zone, yet we were handed trash bags to protect ourselves. The splashes only happened twice, and they felt more like an afterthought than an immersive feature.

Ultimately, I can’t recommend Saw: The Musical unless someone knows exactly what they’re walking into and doesn’t mind the lack of polish. For a parody, the show has moments of humor and creativity, but the sound issues, inconsistent writing, and lack of performer amplification were too much to overlook. Mic your performers and balance the sound, and this could be a far more enjoyable experience. As it stands, it’s a slog—even for a Saw fan like me.

I recently attended Dungeons & Dragons: The Twenty-Sided Tavern at Stage 42 in New York City, and it was an unforgettable experience. This interactive live adventure brings together you and 500 fellow audience members (though I estimate there were about 250 the night I was there) for a journey through a constantly changing campaign set in the heart of the Forgotten Realms.

Despite some technical difficulties with the audience interaction technology during the first act, the performance remained vibrant, fun, and uniquely engaging. The cast’s improvisational skills and the show’s dynamic nature ensured that the audience was thoroughly entertained throughout.

The interactive elements, facilitated through Gamiotics—a browser-based software that allows the audience to influence the story—added a layer of immersion that is rare in traditional theater. Even when the technology faltered (it was down entirely for the first act), the performers adeptly adapted, maintaining the show’s momentum and keeping the audience engaged.

The show’s blend of humor, adventure, and audience participation creates a communal experience that is both refreshing and exhilarating. Whether you’re a seasoned D&D player or new to the world of tabletop role-playing games, The Twenty-Sided Tavern offers an accessible and thoroughly enjoyable experience.

I highly recommend Dungeons & Dragons: The Twenty-Sided Tavern to anyone seeking a unique and interactive theater experience. It’s a testament to the creativity and adaptability of live performance, and everyone should experience it at some point.

Last night, I had the unforgettable experience of watching Teeth at New World Stages, with book and lyrics by Michael R. Jackson (Tony-award winning writer of A Strange Loop) and music by Anna K. Jacobs. Now in previews, the show officially opens October 31, 2024. The show takes a campy, horror-comedy approach to themes that hit incredibly close to home for me, as someone who grew up in a church environment almost identical to the one portrayed on stage. With promise rings, purity pledges, and "dates" with fathers to ensure daughters stayed "pure," this world feels all too familiar. Jackson and Jacobs capture this atmosphere with razor-sharp accuracy, weaving in biting humor, horror, and moments of unsettling authenticity.

Alyse Alan Louis’s portrayal of Dawn O'Keefe was spot-on; she is the evangelical Christian teen girl I remember from my youth. From the modest costume design to her expressions, she captures that earnest, awkward sincerity that feels so real to those of us who grew up in this environment. Vocally, she’s incredible—I could listen to her sing all day.

Andy Karl’s performance as Pastor Bill O'Keefe nailed the exaggerated (although not much so, if I'm being honest), fire-and-brimstone persona of an evangelical pastor, yet his delivery felt eerily true to life. Having grown up hearing phrases like his every Wednesday night at youth group, I can say that Karl’s portrayal perfectly captures that strange bubble of evangelical rhetoric I grew up in. Michael R. Jackson doesn’t shy away from confronting toxic religiosity, and his understanding of the nuances of evangelical culture—down to the very terminology—creates a character who is both exaggerated and uncomfortably authentic.

The musical score by Anna K. Jacobs is fitting and fun, and really, really good. It’s catchy, humorous, and Jackson's layered it with lyrics that let each character shine in their own way. Jacobs described the score as "an ancient feminine Tori Amos meets Stravinsky pagan ritual music," which is spot on. There’s a rocky, visceral feel to it that works beautifully with the story. Songs like "Modest is Hottest" capture the absurdity of evangelical "purity" culture in hilarious fashion, as a duet between Dawn and Tobey wherein they discuss all they want to "do" to each other, if you follow my meaning. Jason Gotay brings a disturbing edge to Tobey, who becomes Dentata's first victim after he basically forces himself on Dawn. His aggressive entitlement, masked under a guise of religious purity, contrasts starkly with Dawn’s growing fear and uncertainty, serving as a pointed critique of the ways purity culture is weaponized.

Will Connolly delivers a memorable performance as Brad, Dawn's step-brother, whose storyline reveals a darker layer within the show. Brad becomes involved with an online group called the Truthseekers—a gathering of young men who share resentment and hostility toward women. These groups, often referred to as “incels” (involuntarily celibate men), are known for their misogynistic beliefs and self-identification as victims, blaming women for their lack of romantic or sexual success. Connolly plays Brad with a mix of anger and vulnerability, showing how his character is drawn into this toxic mindset. The subplot adds a chilling counterpoint to Dawn’s story, highlighting how different characters in the same restrictive environment find equally damaging ways to cope. "Always the Woman" further emphasizes this theme, capturing the hypocrisy and blame placed on women, even when it's men who are responsible for harmful actions. The song’s sharp lyrics reveal the deeply ingrained misogyny in these characters' worldviews, hitting hard with its brutal honesty.

The staging was creatively done, with fluid movements and characters taking advantage of the two levels of the set. The Promise Keeper Girls acted as a versatile ensemble, constantly shifting between background characters and ambient singers, anchoring the scenes and setting the tone throughout. The set itself felt like a perfect recreation of a cheaply built church basement from the era, complete with wood paneling and even water damage dripping down the walls. Seeing that detail—the water damage—blew my mind; it was a level of realism I didn’t expect but appreciated deeply.

The show balances its horror, comedy, and camp so perfectly that it really resonated with me. The electric cross that hangs over the stage, ever-present, was a hauntingly brilliant choice, reflecting that constant reminder of authority and judgment. And as someone who sat in the “splash zone” (second row, center orchestra), I can say that being part of the show in this way created a shared experience with everyone around me. The splash zone in Teeth doesn’t quite match the intensity of Evil Dead the Musical—where gallons of blood drench the audience—but it still made for a fun touch, with each of us helping each other into our ponchos before the performance started. There were plenty of gasps, laughs, and moments of shocked silence in the audience, especially as the show confronts harsh, controversial language. Jackson uses some outdated, derogatory terms that confront the audience head-on, drawing us into the reality and challenges faced by LGBTQ+ individuals in these spaces. He uses this language to push boundaries and to immerse us in the characters' emotional landscapes, reminding us of the darker side of this story’s world.

This tension plays out compellingly through the character of Ryan, a closeted young man navigating his identity in a restrictive, judgmental environment. Jared Loftin’s portrayal of Ryan feels deeply layered; he balances the character’s moments of humor with an underlying vulnerability. Songs like “Born Again” reveal his inner turmoil in ways that resonate, as Ryan orchestrates an uncomfortable confession among the Promise Keeper Girls while navigating his own repressed feelings. Later, his duet with Dawn, “I’m Your Guy,” is filled with both humor and heartbreak as he tries to “prove” his heterosexuality by exploiting Dawn's own shame. Loftin delivers a complex performance that emphasizes Ryan’s desperate attempts to fit in, even at the cost of those around him.

Visually, the costumes were perfect for the setting, especially with Dawn and the Promise Keeper Girls clad in clothes that epitomize the modesty expected in this community. Each detail, from the basement set to the electric cross to the costumes, helped transport me back to that world in a way that was both hilarious and unsettling.

From the initial drop of the scrim to the surprising ending, I loved every moment of Teeth. It’s a wild ride of a show—campy, gut-wrenching, and thought-provoking. For anyone who grew up in evangelical spaces or who wants a taste of its surreal, at times oppressive, atmosphere, this musical is an absolute must-see.

Playing at BAM Strong Harvey Theater, Sep 18—Oct 20, 2024, Safety Not Guaranteed is a gem that's captured my heart so completely, I've already seen it twice and am eagerly planning my third visit before the curtain falls for good.

Based on the film of the same name, this indie-rock musical follows the movie's plot with impressive fidelity. At its core is Taylor Trensch's expertly portrayed Kenneth, an oddball who places a classified ad seeking a time-travel companion. His performance is a delicate balance of eccentricity and vulnerability that draws you in from the moment he steps on stage.

Nkeki Obi-Melekwe shines as Darius, a fledgling writer at Seattle Magazine who sees Kenneth's bizarre ad as her ticket to journalistic stardom. Obi-Melekwe brings a perfect blend of skepticism and curiosity to the role, making Darius' gradual shift from cynical reporter to potential believer entirely believable.

The supporting cast is equally strong. Pomme Koch's Jeff, Darius' boss, adds layers of complexity to what could have been a one-note character. His ulterior motives for the trip to Ocean View add an intriguing subplot. Rohan Kymal's Arnau, the office tech wizard, provides both comic relief and surprising depth as the story unfolds, though his character's arc seems a little forced, just as it does in the movie.

What sets Safety Not Guaranteed apart is its ability to blend the fantastical premise with grounded, relatable emotions. The original songs by Guster's Ryan Miller and Nick Blaemire's book work in harmony to explore themes of regret, second chances, and the human desire to rewrite our past. The music gets under your skin, with melodies that linger long after you've left the theater.

Two standout numbers, "What's Your M-M-M-Mission" and "One Man Wrecking Machine," showcase the show's musical range and emotional depth. The former captures the quirky energy of Kenneth's character, while the latter provides a poignant reflection on the consequences of living in the past.

One of the most impressive aspects of the musical is its use of complex harmonies and innovative choreography. When the entire cast comes together, the result is a stunning tapestry of sound reminiscent of Stephen Sondheim's work. The 4 and 6-part harmonies that weave through these ensemble pieces add layers of emotional resonance to key moments in the story. Complementing these intricate vocal arrangements is the show's choreography, which can only be described as controlled chaos. The movement on stage, much like the harmonies, is a delicate balance of seemingly disparate elements coming together in perfect synchronization. This choreographed mayhem mirrors the characters' internal struggles and the story's themes of unpredictability and faith in the unknown. The combination of these layered harmonies and the dynamic, barely-contained energy of the choreography elevates the material beyond mere adaptation to true musical theater artistry, bringing the songs to new, unexpected levels of expression and impact.

Director Lee Sunday Evans has crafted a production that feels intimate despite its high-concept premise. The set design by Krit Robinson is minimal yet remarkably effective, using clever touches to shift seamlessly between Seattle's urban landscape and the coastal charm of Ocean View. Sarita Fellows' costumes are a standout, adding significantly to the show's ambiance. Each character's attire not only reflects their personality but also subtly evolves with their journey, enhancing the storytelling without overpowering it.

As the story unfolds, you'll find yourself questioning along with Darius: Is Kenneth truly a time traveler, or just a man lost in his own delusions? The beauty of Safety Not Guaranteed is that it keeps you guessing until the very end, all while making you deeply invested in these characters' lives.

This musical asks us to consider what we'd change if we could go back in time, but more importantly, it challenges us to look at how we're living in the present. It's a reminder that sometimes the bravest thing we can do is to take a leap of faith, even when safety isn't guaranteed.

Since the musical follows the movie's story essentially beat-for-beat it basically adds nothing nor takes anything away from the source material it's based upon. There is a part of me that would like to see a second act and some of the storylines expanded a little, however, there's always the danger that doing so would dilute the charm and likeability of the existing story.

The musical's score introduces an interesting juxtaposition between contemporary sounds and retro influences. This musical blend serves as an auditory representation of the show's central theme: the intersection of past and present. The complex harmonies and counterpoints in the ensemble numbers add depth to the emotional landscape of the story, creating moments of breathtaking beauty that linger in the memory.

Another strength of the adaptation is its handling of the science fiction elements. Rather than leaning heavily into the mechanics of time travel, the show uses the concept as a metaphor for personal growth and acceptance. This approach allows the production to maintain a sense of magical realism without alienating audience members who might be skeptical of hard sci-fi.

The chemistry between Trensch and Obi-Melekwe is palpable, creating a central relationship that feels both unlikely and inevitable. Their duets are highlights of the show, blending humor and heart in a way that elevates the material beyond mere adaptation.

The single-act structure, while contributing to the show's momentum, sometimes leaves certain subplots feeling underdeveloped. Jeff's journey, in particular, could benefit from more exploration, as his character's growth provides a compelling counterpoint to Kenneth and Darius's story.

Despite these minor quibbles, "Safety Not Guaranteed" manages to capture the essence of what made the film so beloved while adding its own theatrical flair. The show's ability to balance whimsy with genuine emotional depth is a testament to the strength of the creative team and cast.

With its limited run, Safety Not Guaranteed is a must-see for anyone who loves thought-provoking, emotionally resonant theater with a dash of whimsy. Don't miss your chance to experience this unique and captivating show. After all, unlike Kenneth, we can't turn back time – so seize the moment and get your tickets now.

Safety Not Guaranteed has a running time of 1 hour and 45 minutes with no intermission.

In conclusion, this musical adaptation proves that sometimes, the most rewarding journeys are the ones we never expected to take.

As a Broadway enthusiast, I was thrilled to finally catch my first-ever Forbidden Broadway show, and let me tell you, Merrily We Stole a Song did not disappoint! This satirical revue had me digging deep into my old Broadway trivia trove, as it pulled some hilariously dated yet spot-on references that had me in stitches.

From the moment the curtain rose, I was overwhelmed by the sheer talent on stage. The cast of five was nothing short of exceptional, with four of them showcasing an uncanny ability to impersonate multiple Broadway stars. Their transformations into various theater luminaries were truly impressive, capturing the essence of each performer with remarkable accuracy.

The show's ability to stay current was impressive. They managed to parody Cynthia Erivo's Elphaba and Audra McDonald's Gypsy before their official debuts, which was a real treat for us theater nerds. Speaking of which, the Audra McDonald bit was hands-down my favorite part of the evening – it had me in tears!

Gerard Alessandrini's sharp wit was on full display as the revue took aim at recent Broadway hits and misses. From Hell's Kitchen to Stereophonic, The Outsiders to The Great Gatsby, no show was safe from their clever jabs. Even Back to the Future and The Wiz got their fair share of ribbing. The sendups of Broadway darlings like Roger Bart, Daniel Radcliffe, Ariana DeBose, and Jeremy Jordan were spot-on and had the audience in stitches.

One of the highlights was their take on the 2024 Tony Awards®, which perfectly captured the essence of the ceremony while playfully poking fun at its quirks. The inclusion of selections from "Forbidden Sondheim" was a delightful nod to the legendary composer and lyricist.

The pacing of the show was relentless, with pointed parodies flying at a dizzying speed. It's a testament to the cast's talent that they could switch characters and musical styles so seamlessly. Their ability to mimic the mannerisms and vocal quirks of Broadway's biggest stars was truly impressive.

While I thoroughly enjoyed the show, I must admit I was a bit disappointed that there were no playbills available yet, as this was an early preview. As a memorabilia collector, I always look forward to adding a new playbill to my collection, so this was a minor letdown in an otherwise fantastic evening.

Nevertheless, Forbidden Broadway: Merrily We Stole a Song is a must-see for both seasoned theatergoers and Broadway newbies alike. It offers a fresh, hilarious take on the shows and stars we love, leaving you with a newfound appreciation for the Great White Way – and a serious case of the giggles. This Tony Award®-winning revue proves that, even after 40 years, there's still plenty of material to mine from the world of musical theater.