Mrs. Doubtfire, which played last weekend at the Capital One Hall, is the latest in a long line of beloved childhood movies being turned into stage musicals, in this case, the Robin Williams identity-switching comedy from 1993. With music and lyrics by Karey and Wayne  Kirkpatrick and a book by Karey Kirkpatrick and John O’Farrell, the material stands on its own in the new format.

The story portrays Daniel Hillard, an out-of-work voice actor who annoys everyone around him with his inability to be an adult. He loves his kids, who see him as fun but embarrassing, but loses them when his endless shenanigans and irresponsibility drive his wife to ask for a divorce. He is awarded only one day per week visitation, which isn’t enough for him. When he finds out his wife is hiring a nanny, he goes to his brother and his brother’s husband, who are makeup artists, and has them turn him into an old Scottish lady, Mrs. Doubtfire, to get the job. As the saying goes, comic mayhem ensues. 

The score is rich with varied songs, including a disco-inspired makeover number (“Make Me a Woman”), a rap with a complex loop-track accompaniment (“About Time”), an elaborate and enthusiastic (if slightly overlong) tap extravaganza about cooking (“Easy Peasy”), and a sharp and funny full-blown Flamenco song-and-dance about betrayal (“He Lied to Me”), all of which advance and comment on the plot well. There is also a gospel-inflected number, “Playing with Fire,” with the entire chorus dressed as nightmareish Doubtfires, as well as quite a few heartfelt ballads. The lyrics fit the bill, and the five-man band — two keyboards, guitar, bass, and percussion,  conducted by Eli Bigelow — sounds much larger than it is.

Originally directed by Jerry Zaks and helmed on tour by Steve Edlund, the staging is straightforward to make room for all the quick changes the plot requires. Michaeljon Slinger’s adaptation of Lorin Latarro’s Broadway choreography is lively and pleasing, especially in the frenetic cooking/tap number. The set, by David Korins, is not elaborate. All on one level, it consists of San Francisco backdrops with roll-in pieces for the Victorian home the family lives in and the main character’s dumpy apartment, plus some more abstract backdrops for production numbers. 

As is necessary for such a plot premise, the costumes (by Catherine Zuber), hair and wigs (originally by David Brian Brown, handled on tour by Victoria Tinsman), and makeup design (by Craig Forrest-Thomas) are careful and effective — although the false chin on Mrs. Doubtfire here is slightly too pale and therefore noticeable.

The performances are pleasing. Of particular note are the children. As Natalie, the youngest, and Christopher, the middle child, Ava Rose Doty and Theodore Lowenstein (on Friday night) were professional, energetic, and adorable. As the teen daughter Lydia, Alanis Sophia is a powerhouse, singing beautifully and acting her heart out. The family’s mother, Melissa Campbell, is frustrated and touching by turns, especially in her big ballad, “Let Go,” where she pours out to Mrs. Doubtfire how much her husband hurt her. Brian Kalinowski is funny as Daniel’s brother Frank, whose running joke is that he yells whenever he lies, and as his husband Andre, Devon Wycovia Buchanan is fabulous in every sense. As the fierce Flamenco Singer, Kirsten Angelina Henry is a surprise treat in her vocals, dancing, and especially her comedy.

In the title role, Craig Allen Smith seems even more divided than the part would demand. As Daniel, the dad who won’t grow up, he comes across as more unlikeable than childish. His several ballads feel rough. The first, especially, “I Want to Be There,” when he explains to the Judge why he needs more time with his children, evokes less sympathy than a sense of annoyance because he should have realized all this earlier. His duet with the oldest daughter toward the show’s end is more touching, but the sense that he doesn’t care how he comes across persists even into the curtain call, during which he bizarrely chews gum, open-mouthed, the whole time. And yet as Mrs. Doubtfire, he is sweet, charming, and touching, especially in the finale when he sings about how love and families endure, in all different configurations. The Mrs. Doubtfire touring production is a well-done, effective, and fun night out at the theater.

Mrs. Doubtfire played October 17–19, 2025, in the Broadway in Tysons series at Capital One Hall, 7750 Capital One Tower Road, Tysons, VA. The cast and creatives for Mrs. Doubtfire are on the national tour website here. 

For future Broadway in Tysons shows at Capital One Hall, click here.

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Puffs, Or: Seven Increasingly Eventful Years at a Certain School of Magic and Magic is an extremely silly play with a somewhat serious message. It’s so silly, in fact, that the director, Ruth Sturm, asks the audience in her program note to take a minute to get in the right frame of mind. (That was something of a tall order on a dark and deserted Capitol Hill dotted with a few uniformed and armed National Guard troops two nights before the “No Kings” protests. And even Sturm mentioned a certain famous author using fame to advocate against trans rights — and responded by ignoring gender in casting, which was commendable. But I digress. My point is that it might be harder for some people to capture the mood now than it might have been in 2015 when Puffs premiered.)

Both the silliness and the message come from the original idea of the show, by New York playwright Matt Cox: What must it have been like to be at that “certain school” as a “regular” student — especially one from the House that was mostly ignored — merely trying to get a magical education while a certain other student kept attracting disasters and then heroically saving the school from them? Since the play revels in mixing its pop-culture references, it would not be out of line to say that it must be like being a “red shirt” in Star Trek — a minor character introduced only to get killed off. Or, even more to the point, what might it have been like to be a student who has read and watched all those teen fantasy franchises about adolescents finding they’re special! and being whisked off to a magical land where they are destined to be heroes! … only to find you’re not special at all? That is the sobering question underlying the parody party that is Puffs.

This production plays in St. Mark’s Episcopal Church, an impressive Gothic revival edifice, making it a wonderful setting for the world of the show, even without much set. Unfortunately, the extremely echoey acoustics of the church make it difficult to hear many of the lines, even when the actors project, and when they drop their voices for punchlines, as often happens, the words are lost. It is somewhat easier to hear in the front row, as opposed to higher up in the third-row risers.

Because of the impressive venue, there is little set, other than a paper sign on some drapes and pipes saying “School of Magic and Magic” and a couple of beanbags on the floor. The actors run on and off from behind the drapes or down the short aisles between the seating. This makes it difficult to get any sense of place, other than from hearing the actors announce where they are (subject to the acoustic problems mentioned). The lighting is equally minimal. The costumes, by Amelia Schuster, Fiona Meagher, and Rose Lane, are multitudinous and need to be changed quickly, lending to the slapdash humor of the production. The costumers seem to have taken advantage of some robes belonging to the church for the many professors who show up and disappear quickly (usually saying disdainfully, “Oh … Puffs.”). The many props wrangled by Tongjia (Tonya) Fu are effective.

The director and actors bring a great deal of enthusiasm to the performance. They obviously are very familiar with the source material, as they — and the audience — must be to appreciate the parody. However, the challenge with a show that is originally based on improv (especially one with as many “you can do what you want here!” directions in the script as Puffs) is that it requires more than just enthusiasm; it requires extra touches of originality. One good one here is when the Snake from the Second Book shows up as a remote-controlled car bearing an inflatable snake that scoots across the stage. Unfortunately, this production consists mostly of the actors just saying the lines — enthusiastically, yes, or on occasion amusingly bored, as when they find themselves sitting and watching the surface of the lake for an hour during the “Three-wizard Tournament” — but not much more. Even though some characters are American and others are British, there seems to be little consistency in accents, but this may be another problem with acoustics. There are very few attempts to show magic happening, other than light-up wands and a repeated gag about the Narrator throwing books to characters trying to “summon” them. Since the lines go by so fast and are so difficult to hear, it can be somewhat difficult to fully appreciate the humor. Still, the audience there the night I saw it thoroughly enjoyed themselves.

The actors distinguish themselves in various ways. Alicia Yass makes many transitions playing numerous professors, and is particularly effective as the (turns-out-to-be-not-so) evil Xavia Jones, proving that even would-be villains sometimes have to cope with being nothing special. Betsy Scarisbrick makes a good “a certain Potions professor” and numerous others. Hart Wood is charmingly goofy as the amorous adolescent Sally Perks and humorously heartrending as the tragic house-elf, Bippy, who shows up out of the blue only for his death scene. Lilly McGee is delightfully loopy as the perpetually confused Leanne, and touching as the supremely accepting Helga, founder of the House of Puffs. Madeline Marie proves a fine and funny Harry, running on and off saving the day, preening, dancing, stealing everyone’s thunder, and spending a year being a grumpy adolescent jerk, while maintaining a credible British accent throughout. Marcus Martinez has the unfortunate job of portraying several rather unlikable characters, including J. Finch Fletchley (who refers to himself in the third person), Wayne’s redneck Uncle Dave, and Zack Smith, the head of the magical sports team, who is saddled with a lengthy and inexplicable monologue in the second act that was apparently impressively improvised 600 different times by the original actor, but now has no purpose other than to interrupt the action with a string of profanity for no reason.

Although this is the epitome of an ensemble show, there are principal characters, and they are good here. Erica Irving makes a compelling and comprehensible Narrator, especially in her increasingly horrified reactions as the “books” get longer and the time grows shorter. Maya Lameche, as Oliver Rivers, shows the heartfelt horror of a student who has never gotten an answer wrong, finding himself in a school where academics mean nothing, but fortunately realizes that friendship and love make up for it all. Brianna Rodriguez Day beautifully portrays her journey from an angsty goth who revels in being different to realizing that it’s okay to be ordinary if it means having friends. Chris D’Angelo shines as the comically charismatic and handsome Cedric, the only Puff who ever got to be a hero (and look what it got him!), and then amuses as the green-painted villain Mr. Voldy. And Aarij Mohammad touches the heart as the would-be hero Wayne, presenting the sober truth that sometimes one isn’t meant to be a hero or a lauded martyr, but that love, in the end, may be the greatest magic of all.

Puffs, Or: Seven Increasingly Eventful Years at a Certain School of Magic and Magic can be a hoot if you’re in the mood, and conveys the important truth that even if not everyone gets to be a hero, we can still save the world (or our corner of it) just by being true to our friends and our principles. And that’s a good message in any world.

Running Time: Two hours, including one 15-minute intermission.

Puffs, Or: Seven Increasingly Eventful Years at a Certain School of Magic and Magic played October 3 to 18, 2025, presented by St. Mark’s Players, performing at St. Mark’s Church, 301 A Street SE, Washington, DC.

The program is online here.

Puffs, Or: Seven Increasingly Eventful Years at a Certain School of Magic and Magic 
By Matt Cox
Directed by Ruth Sturm

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Jane Austen’s Persuasion, published posthumously in 1817, is sometimes viewed wistfully as an elegiac novel, the plaintive wish-fulfillment of an old maid, as if Austen were aware of her impending death and looking back with regret on lost romances and the second chances she would never have.

Chesapeake Shakespeare Company’s current production proves brilliantly that this is rubbish. Without in any way short-changing the delicacy of the original novel, this stage production fills it to the brim with humor, music, song, and dance, giving modern audiences all the liveliness and snappy pace they could wish for alongside the beautiful language, graceful manners, and subtle expressions of strong feeling that Jane Austen fans revere.

Sarah Rose Kearns, the adaptor, does a fine job of compressing the story while keeping the most important characters and plot elements. In 1814, the vain spendthrift Sir Walter Elliot is forced to rent out his estate and move to smaller digs in Bath so he can continue his fine lifestyle for less lucre. It turns out that the Admiral he rents it to is related to the man his middle daughter Anne was persuaded to break off her engagement with eight years before, because her snobbish godmother thought it was imprudent and beneath her — although now he is a wealthy naval captain. The former lovers are thrown back together, and it seems clear he has not forgiven what he sees as her wishy-washy abandonment of him. All the other young ladies in the neighborhood immediately “set their caps” at him, while Anne shrinks back, assuming her chance is long past. Will they or won’t they overcome all obstacles and find a second chance at love? That is the plot of the play.

Meghan Behm, the director, seizes the nautical themes of the novel, setting the tone at the start with three actors rousing the audience with a series of sea chanteys. These are followed by some more plaintive songs sung by some of the women, and then a fully choreographed song and dance prelude that beautifully shows the history of the two lovers. (Music direction is by Grace Srinivasan, choreography by Cjay Philip.) From there on, Behm misses no opportunity to adorn the proceedings with dances and songs (including a lovely interlude of Italian opera). But perhaps the greatest gift Behm gives the audience is hearty dollops of humor, perfectly transferring Austen’s wit to the stage. Touches like two silly sisters engaging in a hilarious duet with one growling through the male part, or hiking up their skirts to climb out an invisible window, mesh well with Austen’s verbal zingers and prevent the presentation from becoming reverential. Another way Behm keeps the energy flowing is by having characters frequently interrupt and talk over each other. She also makes good use of Kathryn Kawecki’s lovely flower-touched multilevel set on the Shakespearean thrust stage, at times focusing on a particular character doing something as simple as donning a coat and thinking, while distracting from the other characters changing the furniture on set.

The other technical aspects are equally well done. The costumes (by Kristina Lambdin), always vital in a period piece, are lovely, with special touches such as a jaunty asymmetrical plum-colored pelisse, some fetching bonnets, and well-appointed naval uniforms. Most of the actors embody several roles, and while most of the transitions are obvious — civilians reappearing as officers, or the Admiral’s wife wearing a navy-blue and white ensemble, for instance — and all of them differentiate their characters well by their bearing and accents, for some of the young women it would be easier for the audience to tell their characters apart if there were more changes in their appearance, especially in how they dress their hair. Katie McCreary’s lighting capably distinguishes between present and flashbacks and helps keep everything clear, while Matthew Datcher’s sound keeps everything in balance and allows everyone to be heard.

As for the actors, their biggest challenge, as mentioned above, is differentiating between their characters. For the most part, they do well. Brendan Murray sets the tone at the start as the amusing preening peacock, Sir Walter. Later, he brings more poignancy (and a soft Irish brogue) to the bereaved Captain Harville. Jonas Connors-Grey begins as the rather colorless Mr. Shepherd, but comes into his own as the gruff and hearty Admiral Croft, and hysterically later as … well, you’ll just have to see the show for that one. Molly Moores is almost unbearably snobbish as the engagement-wrecking Lady Russell, but her bewildered soliloquy at the end about her inability to understand these changing times redeems her somewhat. Moores is more down-to-earth in her brief turn as the (also Irish) Mrs. Harville. Elana Michelle plays an interesting trio of characters; she is almost invisible as Sir Walter’s eldest daughter, Elizabeth, but much more lively as the cheerful Mrs. Croft, clearly in love with her husband, but taking no guff about women’s capabilities. But Michelle’s most interesting role is as the melancholy Captain Benwick, whom she portrays with dignity and depth. Isaiah Mason Harvey is equally effective (although greater costume differentiation would add even more) as the very loud Charles Musgrove, alternately fighting and giving in to his whiny wife, and the slimy player Mr. Elliot, attempting to sweep Anne Elliot off her feet. Harvey has tremendous fun with a bit where Mr. Musgrove is “looking out the window” at (his other role) Mr. Elliot, remarking that he looks familiar, and exclaiming what a handsome, fine figure of a man he is! As Mary Musgrove, Charles’s wife and Anne’s other sister, Mady Sims does not double any other role. Perhaps that is because to be such a whiny, melodramatic, self-centered hypochondriac is a full-time job. She is one of Austen’s great comic characters, and Sims does her justice. Sophia Early nicely embodies the stubborn, silly, but delicate Louisa Musgrove as her only credited role, but also beautifully sings the Italian love arias in the concert scene. And Dawn Thomas Reidy, although she doesn’t really get much chance to reveal the scheming side of the man-hungry Mrs. Clay, is tremendously funny as Henrietta Musgrove. Her every action and expression, from mooning over her fiancé to singing baritone to merely falling asleep on Anne in a carriage, evokes laughs. She is another character, though, who could benefit from a more obvious costume change between her characters, especially while the audience is just catching on to the doubling at the beginning of the show.

Of course, every Austen story depends on its lovers, and Persuasion has a good pair. As Frederick Wentworth, Joe Carlson is pleasing in looks and manner, and conveys a fairly wide range of emotion, from awkward affection at the beginning, through spurned anger, to obligatory flirting with the girls, back to agonized, hopeful potential lover. His best moments may actually be his brotherly interplay with his sister Mrs. Croft; their sibling affection and humor are obvious. He seems, however, to take his affronted anger just a bit further than a gentleman’s restraint would allow — or perhaps it is because he seems to pitch almost all his lines at a greater volume than the other characters’, as if he were yelling into the teeth of a gale.

It is Marissa Chaffee’s Anne Elliot, though, who is the crowning jewel of the show, as is only right. Chaffee spends most of the first act simply reacting to what other characters are doing and saying — one of the hardest tasks an actor can take on — and does it brilliantly. Her delicate, expressive face covers every possible emotion in a moment — chagrin, surprise, embarrassment, humor, amorous interest, longing, regret. And when she does begin standing up for herself, she perfectly captures Anne’s strength of character, capability in the face of idiocy all around her, modesty, and lasting devotion. Anne Elliot, in the wrong hands, could come across as washed-up and passive, but Chaffee infuses her with sparkle and amusement as well as constancy and strength. Her manner and bearing are quintessential Austen. She is a delight.

Chesapeake Shakespeare Company’s Persuasion presents a fitting tribute for Jane Austen’s 250th Birthday Celebration — beautiful, humorous, lively, delicious, and romantic. It is everything Austen could wish. And she would graciously invite you to enjoy it.

Running Time: Two hours and 30 minutes, including one 15-minute intermission.

Persuasion plays through October 26, 2025 (Thursdays at 7:30 pm, Fridays and Saturdays at 8 pm, Saturday and Sunday matinees at 2 pm), at Chesapeake Shakespeare Company, 7 South Calvert Street, Baltimore, MD. Adult tickets start at $69, tickets for youth 25 and under start at $31. Purchase tickets by calling 410-244-8570, emailing boxoffice@chesapeakeshakespeare.com, visiting the Box Office in person, or ordering online. For directions, parking, transportation, and other plan-your-visit information, click here.

The program for Persuasion is online here.

Jane Austen’s Persuasion
A new adaptation by Sarah Rose Kearns
Directed by Megan Behm

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Parade makes no pretense to be a lighthearted, toe-tapping musical. From the outset, it is blunt about its subject matter: the wrongful murder conviction and lynching of Leo Frank, a Jewish factory manager in Atlanta in 1915. With a book by Alfred Uhry (Driving Miss Daisy) and music by Jason Robert Brown (The Last Five Years, The Bridges of Madison County), the show originally played on Broadway in 1998, winning Tonys for Book and Score. This revised touring production is based on the 2023 version, which won Best Revival and Best Direction of a Musical.

It is more relevant than ever.

The first act is a relentless, riveting carnival of injustice. Set after a prologue in which a Southern soldier (Trevor James) says goodbye to his lady-love before going off to fight the Yankees, the context is clear. The title Parade refers to an annual celebration of Confederate Memorial Day, in the 50th year of which a 13-year-old factory worker, Mary Phagan (Olivia Goosman), is raped and murdered in Frank’s factory.

Suspicion first falls on the African American night watchman of the factory, Newt Lee (Robert Knight), interrogated in a nauseating scene where a detective tries to get him to admit he “couldn’t help himself when he smelled that white girl.” But he is released because, as the ambitious prosecutor Hugh Dorsey (Ethan Riordan), who has lost his last two murder cases and needs a win, puts it, “Hanging another Nigra ain’t enough this time. We gotta do better.” He and his cronies set their sights on Leo Frank (Max Chernin), a white, college-educated, well-to-do Jew from the North — the ultimate outsider.

The trial presents a parade of perjury from witnesses they have threatened or bribed, such as the coached factory girls who condemn Frank simply by saying he “looked at them”; the factory janitor, the vicious, suspicious, escaped convict Jim Conley (Ramone Nelson), who claims he helped Frank hide the body; and the tearful mother of the victim, who says coldly to the accused, “I forgive you, Jew,” and means precisely the opposite. The most unsettling parts of the first act are when Chernin gets up and acts out these slanders as the prosecution’s fantasy of Frank, especially in the sleazy number “The Factory Girls/Come Up to My Office.”

Meanwhile, crooked politicians, preachers, and journalists are whipping the populace into a frenzy of hatred. The white-suited, Bible-thumping, antisemitic publisher Tom Watson (Griffin Binnicker) claims to want justice but offers to throw his political weight behind anyone who can get Frank hanged. The slimy reporter Britt Craig (Michael Tacconi) sees the trial as his career-making story, ironically calling Frank his “savior” and vowing to “give him fangs, give him horns, give him scaly, hairy palms!… Yeah, that fella’s here to rape the whole damned South!”

Inevitably, Frank is convicted and condemned to hang. In part of Director Michael Arden’s effectively claustrophobic staging, Frank spends the entire intermission in his cell on a platform center stage, emphasizing his entrapment.

The second act, thank goodness, brings some nuance, humanity, and character development to the show. Frank is forced to shed his cold and proper shell and realize he can depend on his wife, Lucille (Talia Suskauer) — in fact, he must, because he can’t save himself. Under the most awful circumstances, they move from arranged marriage partners to true lovers. Their deepening devotion is the emotional heart of the show. Lucille convinces basically decent Governor Slayton (Brian Vaughn) to look into the case, and as a result, he commutes Frank’s sentence from hanging to life in prison. But given the fury of the good people of Georgia, the deed costs him his job, and prosecutor Hugh Dorsey becomes Governor, while slimy publisher Watson becomes a Senator.

And, since the show has left no suspense as to how all this will end, a mob abducts Frank from jail, drives him to Mary Phagen’s hometown, and lynches him.

All of this is rescued from being unbearable by the staging, beautiful music, and performances.

Dane Laffrey’s set is fascinating, with a central wooden platform surrounded by ranks of miscellaneous wooden chairs and benches, where most of the cast sit during the action. There are no curtains in the wings, and one can see back to the walls and equipment. This gives the impression that the main characters are always being watched, not just by the audience, but by the public, the people of Georgia, the mob. There is the inescapable glare of publicity that nonetheless does not illuminate the truth.

The back wall is filled with projections by Sven Ortel, which move, subtly. While the audience is waiting for the show to begin, a street scene shows faint shadows of passing cars, and then begins to loom forward slowly but menacingly, zooming in on the historical plaque marking where Frank was lynched, and eventually on the single line: “Without addressing guilt or innocence, and in recognition of the state’s failure to either protect Frank or bring his killers to justice, he was granted a posthumous pardon in 1986.” In other words, even 73 years later, the State of Georgia cannot bring itself to proclaim Frank innocent. Other projections are similarly disturbing, such as the photographic evidence of Frank’s hanging, with several prominent citizens clearly in view — but somehow, the state could not bring Frank’s killers to justice.

The acting and voices are all excellent, in all registers, from Binnicker (Tom Watson)’s oily baritone, to Tacconi (Brit Craig)’s frenzied tenor, to Knight (Newt Lee)’s rich, despairing bass, to Suskauer (Lucille Frank)’s lovely but strong mezzo. Ramone Nelson stands out as the amused, powerful, and evil Jim Conley.

And Max Chernin excels in the demanding lead role, playing not only his own character, but its perverted reflection in his enemies’ eyes. Frank’s development, from a stiff, stand-offish number-cruncher, privileged and prejudiced in his own way, to a vibrant, loving, noble hero, even in the face of cruelty and death, redeems the show. His performance takes it from a grim catalogue of horrific injustice to a story with humanity at its heart.

But the injustice is still there. Frank’s story is true. Many of the people involved went on to long political careers. It formed the basis for both the founding of the Anti-Defamation League and the resurrection of the Ku Klux Klan. At the end of the show, a projection points out that Leo Frank’s murder case was reopened in 2019 — and that it is still ongoing. Leo Frank has yet to be exonerated.

Whether you see this show is up to you. You may not want to spend your money at the Kennedy Center right now. But these fine, talented, dedicated performers should not be punished for the prejudice of others. They are giving their all, bearing witness to injustice and the ongoing need for truth. You may want to do the same by seeing Parade.

Running Time: Two hours and 30 minutes, including one 20-minute intermission

Parade plays through September 7, 2025 (Tuesday through Sunday at 8 pm;
Thursday, Saturday and Sunday at 2 pm), in the Eisenhower Theater at The Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, 2700 F St NW, Washington, DC. Purchase tickets ($49–$159) online, through TodayTix, or by calling (202) 467-4600 or toll-free at (800) 444-1324. Box office hours are Monday-Saturday, 10 am-9 pm, and Sunday 12 pm-9 pm. A limited number of $39 Rush tickets will be available for every performance at the Kennedy Center Box Office the day of the performance. Rush tickets become available 2 hours prior to each performance.

The program for Parade is online here.

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J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter novels have had a massive influence on our culture. Whole families have enjoyed her mix of fantasy, mundanity, humor, and grief. Her work revived the young adult fantasy novel, turned a generation back to reading, and has spawned an entertainment juggernaut.

I know one young person whose first memory is of their mother reading Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone to them. They became a massive fan, re-reading the books multiple times, attending midnight book launches in Hogwarts robes, at one point visiting the set of the second movie. But now, they no longer want even to think of the series they once loved.

Because they are trans.

J.K. Rowling, the world’s highest-paid author over multiple years, could have been the first billionaire from writing had she not given some $200 million to charities, mostly supporting medical causes and at-risk women and children. She has all the hallmarks of a liberal-minded person. She has made it canon that Dumbledore is gay, and there are broad hints that two of the major characters in the new Harry Potter play (Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy) are embarking on a gay relationship (although some have seen that as “queerbaiting” — pandering to the gay community without making it explicit).

But over the past six years, Rowling has become a “gender-critical feminist” (also known as a trans-exclusive radical feminist, or TERF) proclaiming widely that women’s safety requires that trans women (who she insists are men who merely believe they are women) are inherently dangerous and must never be allowed in women’s spaces such as bathrooms. (Ironic that some of the pivotal scenes in Harry Potter, including in the present play,  involve boys visiting a girls’ bathroom.) Her outsize influence has done real damage to the legal position and safety of trans people in the UK. She has been criticized for these views — which are contrary to medical and legal evidence — by some of the very people who were once most likely to enjoy her work. She has essentially declared that an entire segment of her audience does not exist, or at least does not deserve legal standing equal to the others of their gender, and that those who think they do are wrong.

The woman who wrote stories about a young man who felt fundamentally different and misunderstood by his surrogate parents, and then, through great struggle, found a place where he belonged, has now alienated an entire generation of fans who know exactly what that feels like.

And that is tragic.

Which is what makes it difficult to review the latest addition to the Wizarding World leviathan, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, now playing at the National Theatre. There is great support for trans folks among many theater lovers, and it is difficult to separate the damaging views of the author from her creation.

But it is worthwhile to point out that many talented theater professionals have given their utmost to this show. So it is only right to examine what they have created on its own terms.

Harry Potter and the Cursed Child is a spectacle designed to satisfy the fans. (People who have not at least seen a Harry Potter movie may enjoy the show, but will miss many of the references.) Written by Jack Thorne from a story by Rowling, Thorne, and John Tiffany, it both shows the original characters grown up and introduces a new generation of characters. Thorne also builds a plot that uses “time-turners” to revisit scenes and characters from the past. For those familiar with the books and movies, it is akin to visiting old friends. It also allows the story to play out several alternate scenarios, including the big one: “What if Voldemort had won?”

The show displays the care and attention to detail that mark the entire franchise: from books to movies, theme parks, and now theater. It is visually stunning, full of swirling robes, floating suitcases, eerie fog, and, of course, magic. The magic tricks by Jamie Harrison are the true star: top tricks include Harry being sucked into a pay telephone, characters popping out of fireplaces, transforming into other characters using “Polyjuice potion” (a source of some of the best humorous bits of the show as adolescent characters try to pretend to be their elders), and impressive wand battles. Excellent wirework abounds. Dementors that fly in and overwhelm characters and carry them off prove as eerie as in the movies. A segment set “underwater” works extremely well. Most impressive of all is probably the extended duel between (now adult) Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, which involves magically tipping and throwing not only chairs but each other. Neil Austin’s lighting perfects the illusion — I was sitting in the front row, and I couldn’t see the wires. I could also feel the heat from fiery wand blasts, a testament to the bravery of the actors and the precision of the pyrotechnics. It is a wonder that a touring production can adapt the stage in each location to enable so many tricks.

The show covers many locations, and so can’t rely on large, impressive sets and locations (let alone CGI) as do the movies. Christine Jones’ set, consisting mainly of brick arches and rolling staircases, bookcases, and doors on a revolving platform, stands in for everything from King’s Cross station to Hogwarts to the Forbidden Forest. Beyond that, director John Tiffany chose to use choreography to enliven the transitions between scenes. Steven Hogget’s movement direction is effective, although the tropes of flying suitcases and swirling wizard robes, while intriguing at first, start to feel overused. The best movement examples involve two large sets of rolling stairs mimicking the moving staircases at Hogwarts, and effectively presenting the dilemma of two characters who are being kept apart from each other. The best movement comes at the opening of the second act, when evil Hogwarts students in the alternative timeline stalk around the stage in armored robes (costumes by Katrina Lindsay) like large black predatory beasts and then charge at the audience in a truly unnerving phalanx.

With all this going on, it would be unfair to say that the actors seem almost incidental. There is an emotional story at the heart of all this, involving the difficulties sons face in living up to their fathers’ expectations and legacies, adolescent battles with parents, and the quest for odd, awkward young people to find friendship. The actors look convincing and carry the story capably, for the most part. Alexis Gordon (Hermione Granger) and Matt Harrington (Ron Weasley) are funniest when they play the younger characters pretending to be them. As Harry Potter, John Skelley hits the right tone, and is most effective in his scene at the end with his son, when he is confessing his true fears. Unfortunately, he has a distracting way of working his mouth when portraying emotion, and he talks so fast that it is sometimes difficult to understand what he says. In fact, there are some problems with the accents in general. Trish Lindstrom (Ginny Potter) seems to slip into Irish at times. As Professor Minerva McGonagall, Katherine Leask, clearly cast for her resemblance to Maggie Smith, plays her Scottish accent and strictness broadly for laughs, and doesn’t have a chance to show her wisdom or charm. Leask is better as the evil Professor Umbridge. As Draco Malfoy, Benjamin Thys is suitably icy, but also gets some touches of humor and pathos. Larry Yando plays all three of the old men in the story, Amos Diggory, Albus Dumbledore, and Severus Snape, with exactly the same face and voice, although he has an awkward way of pulling in his chin to portray Snape. He does have some moving moments as Dumbledore apologizing to Harry.

As the two new lead characters in the story, Emmet Smith (Albus Potter) and Aidan Close (Scorpius Malfoy) shoulder the show. Smith, portraying an alienated, moody teenager, gets the job done. Close, as the even more awkward, un-Malfoyesque, out-of-place Scorpius, shows terrific physicality, and is at times very funny, especially in his overwrought bouts of enthusiasm and screaming. But there are times when his portrayal slips out of endearingly awkward and into uncomfortable, as in one scene where he rhapsodizes at length on how a girl smells.

An absolute standout performance comes from Mackenzie Lesser-Roy as Moaning Myrtle, who channels the original in voice and manner but puts her own spin on it — literally — performing her entire scene on a rotating hoop atop the fountain sink in the “girls’ bathroom.” She is a delight.

Perhaps not totally surprising for a series of which the final book had to be split into two movies, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child was first performed as two plays that could be seen on the same day, or on subsequent nights. Later, it was cut down to one three-and-a-half- hour show, and then before the North American tour, it was further cut to its present running time of just under three hours. So it is perhaps understandable that the storytelling and emotional portions should feel squeezed by the spectacle. But perhaps, if elements such as the swirling capes and dancing staircases were trimmed a bit, there would be more room for the story to breathe and catch the audience’s hearts.

I can’t tell you whether you should go see Harry Potter and the Cursed Child. That is for you to decide based on your feelings on how an author’s attitudes reflect on their work. But I can say that the show is a visual and magical treat, with some affecting moments and some good-to-excellent performances. Many talents have put their all into the play, and it shows.

Running Time: Two hours and 55 minutes, including a 20-minute intermission.

The national tour of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child plays through September 7, 2025 (Tuesday through Sunday at 7 pm; Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday at 1 pm), at the National Theatre, 1321 Pennsylvania Ave NW, Washington. Tickets ($59–$189) are available online or at the box office.

The cast and creative credits for the touring production are here.

Enter the Digital Lottery for a chance to purchase $40 tickets to Broadway at The National shows. Learn more here.

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The Foreigner is utterly charming.

Larry Shue’s delightful 1985 comedy introduces Charlie, a hopelessly shy and tongue-tied British science-fiction proofreader convinced he is terminally boring. Brought to a rustic fishing lodge in rural Georgia by his hearty soldier friend Froggy for a break from his (supposedly) dying wife’s bedside, he has a panic attack that he might actually have to converse with anyone. Froggy says he’ll fix it, and proceeds to tell the proprietress Betty and the other residents of the lodge that Charlie is “a foreigner” who doesn’t speak a word of English, so there’s no use talking to him. Rather than not talking to him, everyone in the house proceeds to spill all their secrets either in front of him or to him, assuming he can’t understand. Charlie begins to realize some people at the lodge have nefarious plans that threaten the others. Also, relieved of the pressure of engaging in conversation, and taking the lead from the assumptions others make of him, he begins to “acquire a personality” — losing his inhibitions and setting his silly and dramatic side free, earning the admiration and affection of some of the residents.

Although being mounted in the JCC in Rockville while its home theater, the F. Scott Fitzgerald, is undergoing renovations, Rockville Little Theatre’s show has top-notch production values.

Director Kathryn Stirling keeps the whole show running like a well-oiled machine while also keeping the sweetness and humor flowing. Her double-level set design (constructed by William Kolodrubetz, assisted by David Hegewood) is solid and appropriate, with a large entrance door, practical lighting, staircase, cellar trap door, excellent “working” fireplace, and appropriate-looking pine-clad walls (painted by Katherine Rogers). Filip Bastos’ lighting design makes good use of the cyclorama that rises behind the set to show different weather and times of day (although in a portion of the show where the electricity is supposed to be out, the set still appears fully lit). Aaron Skolnick’s sound design is well done, with the actors easily heard and clear — in fact, at times, actors who are offstage, supposedly calling from other rooms, are just as loud as the ones in view, and a few times, actors’ voices are magnified by other actors’ mics. Also, although the sound of rain and thunder is very effective opening the show, it feels a bit awkward to simply have the rain shut off when the action begins. If the rain was timed to start and then drop down or out when the doors open and close, that would be one thing, but the sound seems to stop arbitrarily.) Tongjia (Tonya) Fu’s props were suitable, including a 1980s-appropriate phone and some sticks of dynamite and a detonator that looked so gleefully cartoonish they should have “ACME” written on them. Laura Andruski’s costumes fit the bill, particularly Betty the innkeeper’s denim jumpers and including the unfortunate collection of KKK robes. There might have been more clues in her clothes that Catharine is a spoiled debutante. She seems a bit too down-to-earth here to be a Dallas-era heiress, even if she is in the boondocks. Natalie McManus’ dialect coaching is terrific, ranging from various social levels of British English to Southern American dialects to — well, you’ll just have to see the play to find out what else.

The actors that benefit from all this technical expertise are equally fine. Nathan Chadwick is perfectly awful as the villain Owen Musser, keeping his vile nature in check with great difficulty and indulging his sadistic streak whenever he gets the chance. His forced reveal of the cowardly side of the bully is very satisfying. Nicholas (Nick) Martinez plays well David Lee, the saccharine preacher with a secret side, making his final transformation showing his true colors very effective. Whitney Johnson, as his conflicted fiancée Catharine Simms, spends most of the first act expressing frustration, but when she finds in Charlie someone to talk to (or at), her softer, more thoughtful side begins to shine through. Sam Kuhr’s Ellard Simms, her brother who may or may not be quite as dumb as he seems, is comic gold in both rapid-fire dialogue and physical hijinks. Joan Crooks, as the sweet, tired lodge owner Betty Meeks, who has never been out of her mountain town, bounces between folk wisdom and gullible naiveté at breakneck speed, but always with good-natured, wide-eyed enjoyment. Brad Van Grack’s “Froggy” LeSueur, the hearty Limey demolition sergeant, chugs along in the best humor — until he starts to get jealous of all the attention that his friend is getting from his plan. Astonishment, sympathy, and annoyance are equally at home on his gruff but always friendly face.

And above all shines the performance that the rest of the play revolves around, Tristan Poje’s “foreigner,” Charlie Baker. Poje’s soft, posh accent and shy, hangdog character are so well done that it is almost a shame that he doesn’t get to indulge in them more. But almost immediately, he begins to ring the emotional changes from mortally embarrassed, through blandly oblivious (with flashes of anger and disgust when he learns some people’s secrets), through “quick learner of English” when he realizes he has to begin communicating, to exciting raconteur, to full-fledged, scene-stealing hero. Charlie’s blank smile when he “realizes” he is being spoken to, and his foreign-sounding “thank you!” to anything said to him, are a delight. His “foreign tongue” is hysterical. His “telling a story in his native language” is a comic tour de force of physical comedy, timing, mime, and expression of emotion and narrative without intelligible words. There is more than a hint of Monty Python physicality in his performance. (Apparently, the “language” he speaks is a crazy amalgam of Russian, German, and several other languages, written out in the script but only partly “translated.” So the actor playing Charlie has to learn the lines phonetically, but also to come up himself with the story he is telling — a tall order that Poje fills beautifully.) And the best thing about Poje’s portrayal is the genuine sweetness in his nature as he finds his true personality and voice — through a made-up character and language. Charlie is simply, genuinely adorable.

It is almost a shame that the schemes of the villains in the piece should have to interrupt the sublime, sweetly silly story of Charlie emerging from his shell. But presumably, to progress, the plot needed villains, and perhaps in 1985 the Ku Klux Klan were seen as a distant enough threat to be used as antagonists in a comedy. It is quite satisfying here to see them get their comeuppance, especially in a way that allows Charlie to be the hero he never dreamed he could be, and the play to convey a message of tolerance, understanding, and communication from the heart.

The Foreigner is a charming comic delight.

Don’t miss it.

Running Time: Approximately two hours including intermission.

The Foreigner plays through May 4, 2025 (Friday and Saturday evenings at 8 pm, Sundays at 2 pm), presented by Rockville Little Theatre performing the Bender Jewish Community Center, 6125 Montrose Road, Rockville MD. Tickets ($22; $20 for students and seniors) may be purchased online, by emailing tickets@rlt-online.org, or by calling the box office at 240-314-8690 from 2-6 Tuesday through Friday and from 10-2 on Saturday.

The cast and creative credits are online here.

The Foreigner contains prominent displays of racism and depicts racist language and actions that, while integral to the story, are disturbing.

The Foreigner
By Larry Shue
Directed by Kathryn Stirling

COVID Safety: Masks optional.

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Has anyone not seen The Music Man?

Ever since its 1957 Broadway debut ran for 1,375 performances, followed by major revivals in 1965, 1980, 1988, 2000, and 2022, two movie versions, and countless tour, community, and school productions, it is hard to imagine there are those who still haven’t encountered Meredith Willson’s story of a crafty traveling salesman who hoodwinks gullible parents into paying for expensive musical instruments and uniforms for a “kids’ band” and then skips town with the proceeds — until he meets his match in a small-town music teacher.

There are solid reasons why this is one of the most beloved and frequently performed musicals of Broadway’s Golden Age. It is sweet, nostalgic, and cheerful — but not too sweet, with its sassy tale of a complex con man who never gets his comeuppance and intends to seduce and abandon a “sadder but wiser girl” — i.e., a woman with a shady past. And the heroine is an older woman (well, as classic musicals go — she’s all of 26) who is smart, accomplished, knows her own mind, and is not simply waiting for her prince to come. It deals with age-old themes of bullying, self-confidence, the need to belong, insularity, mistrust and prejudice against outsiders, gossip, and gullibility. It also has some of the loveliest and catchiest tunes in the Great American Songbook — one of which, “Till There Was You,” was even covered by the Beatles!

But even the most melodious trumpet can get tarnished with age and overuse. How do you make fresh a show that has been done more times than “The Stars and Stripes Forever” has been played on the Fourth of July?

Toby’s Dinner Theatre pulls it off — by putting on a show that is more energetic, better sung, better danced, and simply shinier than any in recent memory.

The Music Man is usually thought to need elaborate sets, to evoke the small town of River City, Iowa, and community productions unfortunately often try but fall short in that regard. But Toby’s professional production manages with a bare minimum, making a virtue of necessity since, as always, the show is presented in the round. Shane Lowry’s sets consist simply of Main Street townscapes on the walls behind the audience, backlit with lovely sunset colors and blues in evening scenes, old-fashioned business signs, and the actors’ entrances marked by a quaint front porch, a bunting-bedecked Town Hall, and a Library with bookshelves that almost magically open out. All the rest of the locations are evoked by set pieces (including a piano, library desk, table and chairs, and the impressive Wells Fargo Wagon) moved in and out by the crack stage crew, while Director-Choreographer Mark Minnick deftly keeps the audience’s eyes occupied elsewhere.

Sarah King and Janine Sunday’s costumes are as elaborate as the sets are minimal. They conjure the era beautifully through the garish plaid suits of the salesmen, the sweet swirly dresses of the dancers, the lace-and-brocade-draped matrons (later replaced by amusing 1912 “workout clothes”) and their feather-festooned hats, which mimicked bobbing chickens in “Pick-a-Little, Talk-a-Little.” And, of course, there must be band uniforms, and these are gorgeous. Music Man is one of only a few shows (A Chorus Line, which Toby’s did last year, is the only other that comes to mind) that re-costumes the entire cast for the Curtain Call/Finale, and it is especially impressive for providing multiple costume changes for the rest of the show as well.

Of course, The Music Man without music would just be The Man — and Music Director Ross Scott Rawlings works even more than his usual magic, making the six-piece band sound like much more. For a Golden Age musical, there is more variation in song types than one might expect, including the rhythmic patter songs: “Rock Island,” performed impressively by the male chorus to mimic the sound of a chugging train, and the iconic and endlessly parodied “You Got Trouble.” It’s not too much of a stretch to say these driving, spoken numbers could be the first rap songs. But of all the fine musical numbers in the show, perhaps the most delightful of all are the Barbershop numbers (“Ice Cream/Sincere,” “Goodnight Ladies,” and “Lida Rose”). It is extremely difficult to find four male singers and turn them into a crack quartet — in the original production, the quartet was the original Barbershop champions, The Buffalo Bills — but here Rawlings does exactly that with Carter Crosby, Vince Gover, Alec Brashear, and David Bosley-Reynolds. Not only are they sublime singing just with each other; they are even more scrumptious in counterpoint to other numbers. I wished “Lida Rose/Will I Ever Tell You” could have gone on forever.

Mark Minnick’s choreography is equally excellent. In the Library, a dance first with only feet in an appropriate soft-“shhhhhh”shoe morphs into dancing on tables and then into a rousing Ragtime one-step and turkey trot. Later, “Shipoopi,” a relentless nonsense number that opens the second act and usually seems to go on forever, here simply shines with lively choreography delightfully performed, especially by the leading dance couple, Julia Williams and Dereck Atwater as Zaneeta Shinn and Tommy Djilas.

All the actors are well cast and generally fine. Alan Hoffman’s Mayor Shinn is suitably blustery, although as his wife, Lynn Sharp-Spears could have been a touch more commanding. Jane C. Boyle’s Mrs. Paroo was charming and forceful when needed, speaking some of her high notes rather than singing them, which worked very well. And on the night I saw the show, Julia Ballenger as Amaryllis and Elijah Doxtater as Winthrop were top-notch. Ballenger’s far-flying finger on her “cross-hand piano piece” is a hoot, and her lovely voice blending with Marion’s on Goodnight My Someone is charming. Doxstater has tremendous energy and presence in “Gary Indiana,” and when his delivery of every precisely choreographed move becomes a bit more natural, he will be a force to be reckoned with.

Of course, the show hinges on the performances of Marion Paroo and Harold Hill, and here they match the caliber of the rest of the production. Toby’s makes a practice of casting feisty leading ladies, and this is no exception. While Marion is never a shy violet, Janine Sunday here is even more impressive. Vocally, her lower register is so powerful one might question if she can make the high notes, and thus it is an even greater pleasure when she hits them effortlessly. She is certainly “no bright-eyed blushing, breathless baby-doll baby,” as Harold describes the sweet kind of ingenue he avoids like the plague. Her sensual demeanor when she reveals to Hill that she has known his secret since he first arrived, and then her using her “feminine wiles” to try to stop David James’s creepy Anvil Salesman from ratting Hill out (in the only scene in the show that feels somewhat uncomfortable in a modern context), she shows she is definitely in charge.

And as Harold Hill, Jeffrey Shankle shines. A longstanding leading man for Toby’s, he is definitely in his element here. He combines the charm, fast-talking slyness, and moral ambiguity that make him a convincing con man and maintains doubt as to whether he has actually reformed until the very end. He uses his voice well, whether he is talking, pattering, or singing, and is able to do justice to the melodies in his songs in a way the original Hill, Robert Preston, never could. The show rests on his shoulders, and he wears it as easily as a bandleader’s jacket.

Even if you’ve seen The Music Man a dozen times, see this one. And if, somehow, you’ve never had the pleasure, get tickets now. Toby’s Dinner Theatre has managed to polish up this well-worn vintage cornet and make it shine and sound sweeter than ever.

Running Time: Approximately two and a half hours with one intermission.

Meredith Willson’s The Music Man plays through May 18, 2025, at Toby’s Dinner Theatre, 5900 Symphony Woods Road, Columbia, MD. Tickets, including dinner and show (adult, $74–$92; child, $64–$67), can be purchased by calling 410-730-8311 or online.

The menu is here. The playbill is downloadable here.

Meredith Willson’s The Music Man
Book, Music, and Lyrics by Meredith Willson
Story by Meredith Willson & Franklin Lacey
Direction & Choreography by Mark Minnick
Music Direction by Ross Scott Rawlings

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It is astonishing to think that Jonathan Larson, the visionary composer, the voice of a new generation, the tunesmith who brought rock to musical theater in his iconic show RENT, would be 65 this year.

To judge by his Tick, Tick… BOOM! now playing at the Greenbelt Arts Center, he wouldn’t have liked the idea much. The semi-autobiographical show portrays his anxiety about turning 30 without having yet achieved his dream of having a show produced on Broadway. On the other hand, in reality, Larson achieved success and fame beyond his wildest imaginings, with RENT winning the Pulitzer Prize for Drama, Tonys for Best Musical, Best Score, and Best Book, running for 12 years straight on Broadway, and being produced, toured, and revived continuously ever since. Yet he never got to see his triumphant achievement because he died, suddenly and tragically, the night before the show opened.

It may seem as if Larson appeared like a flaming meteor in the sky and then burned out just as fast, but like all great artists, this overnight success was years in the making. Tick, Tick… BOOM! is the story of his struggle. The show is a fully-staged three-actor version from 2001 of a one-man “rock monologue” Larson performed from 1990 to 1993 while working on what he hoped would be his breakthrough musical. The songs are a fascinating mix of the flawed work of a young composer with flashes of the genius that animated his later work.

The show follows his own life fairly closely and contains characters based on his friends and lovers. The main character, “Jon” (Michael McCarthy), living in a squalid fourth-floor loft in SoHo on the eve of his 30th birthday and a workshop of his new show, SUPERBIA, wonders what to do if it does not get picked up for production. Should he move away from the city and start a family with his girlfriend, Susan (Elizabeth Suzanne)? Should he give up and go corporate, selling out for a BMW and an apartment with a doorman and a stainless-steel kitchen? Today, his problems seem almost luxurious — he actually has the choice of whether to live in poverty to pursue his art, sell out for a cushy job, or settle for love and a home and a family. Many people in their 20s or 30s today aren’t lucky enough to have that trilemma — they barely survive paycheck to paycheck because they don’t have any other choice.

The opening number, “30/90,” risks being juvenile in its self-absorption. The assumption seems to be that that turning 30 puts one foot in the grave:

Why can’t you stay 29
Hell, you still feel like you’re 22
Turn thirty 1990
Bang! You’re dead,
What can you do?

And yet perhaps anyone over that age, looking back, can recall similar feelings.

The next number, “Green Green Dress” seems similarly adolescent — a song about Jon’s girlfriend’s dress that turns him on, and that he wants to take off. The only hint of character revelation is that she would like to talk, go for a walk, hear him laugh, but he can only think of one thing.

“Johnny Can’t Decide” paints his problem in similarly simplistic terms:

Can he settle down – and still not drown?…
How can you soar
If you’re nailed to the floor?

But then Larson’s genius starts to assert itself. He talks about his idol, a certain legendary composer whose name he is not worthy to say aloud (but cups his hands around his mouth and stage-whispers “STEPHEN SONDHEIM!!!!”). To heighten dramatic tension, Larson mentions that Sondheim might be coming to his workshop performance. (In reality, Sondheim had been Larson’s mentor since he was in college.) Then he has to go to work at the restaurant where he is a waiter. And suddenly, a scene in the diner full of annoying patrons for breakfast explodes into a full-blown homage to “Sunday” from Sondheim’s Sunday in the Park with George, complete with references to “In the blue, silver chromium diner / On the green, purple, yellow, red stools,” the soaring melody, the gorgeous harmonies, all brought crunching down with the single word, “Brunch.”

From there the score moves on to more delights, including “Therapy,” a hysterically precise Sondheimian dissection of one of those “we have to talk” talks between couples (“I’m not mad that you got mad that I got mad / When you said I should go drop dead.”) and “No More,” about the joys of moving out of the squalor of SoHo to an East Side apartment with “shiny new parquet wood floors / As waxed as a wealthy girl’s legs.”

And as the show progresses, we see more of Larson’s themes and concerns that would come to full fruition in RENT. Whereas the show focuses at first on what actor McCarthy calls Larson’s “pre-midlife crisis,” when Jon learns that his best friend, the one he thought was a sellout, is dying of AIDS, suddenly we see the source of Larson’s preoccupation with being the one left to bear witness to his friends who were being struck down by this new plague — ironically, as it turned out, because Larson was the one who was struck down first (though not of AIDS). And from that point, the concerns of one almost-30-year-old NYC pseudo-bohemian Sondheim wannabe become more moving, universal, and relatable.

The new version, revised from Larson’s original one-man show, is very rewarding because it showcases not only the composer’s signature melodies and lyrics but also his trademark harmonies. In this production, Music Director Anton Van De Motter brings out the best in the actors’ voices, especially in complex trio numbers.

Director Margo Myst McCready, keeps the pacing lively and arranges the actors well in the GAC space, with most of the focus on the main audience center but enough attention to the seating on the sides of the thrust stage. McCready and Stage Manager Grass Harness also choreograph a crew larger than the cast, who manage set changes with refreshing speed. One stagehand who dashed back in to deliver a telephone actually garnered some applause opening night.

Ezra Varyan Ormsby’s set is nevertheless almost nonexistent, as is par for the course at GAC. Granted, it must encompass many venues, but there is very little to indicate the “bohemian” atmosphere where Jon and his friends live.

Connor Lugo-Harris’s sound is very effective. There is no mention in the program of musicians, so we can presume they were using backing tracks. But the acoustic guitar and piano sound meshes well with the intimate, improvisational feel of the show and never overwhelms the performers.

And those performers serve the material well.

Dylan Nicholson, as Michael, is moving as the friend who wants for Jon what he himself will never live to have, but Nicholson also shows a terrific comic side in “No More,” dancing ecstatically around his new apartment and making out with his butcherblock table. Although Nicholson tends to go flat on some of his held notes, he holds his own in the complex harmonic trios.

Elizabeth Suzanne, as Susan, shows a lithe, quirky sprightliness very suitable for Jon’s dancer girlfriend and changes convincingly into the flirtatious actress from Jon’s workshop, who shines in the showstopping 11-o’clock number from SUPERBIA, “Come to Your Senses.” In fact, Suzanne is terrific in a number of alternate characters, from the venomous Brunch patron who sneers, “I ordered an omelet with no yolks. That’s why you’re just a waiter!” to her pitch-perfect portrayal of Jon’s classic chain-smoking NYC agent.

And as the show’s heart and Larson’s avatar, Jon, the excellent Michael McCarthy channels a young Jack Black. On opening night, he seemed a bit nervous and tentative to start but soon found his stride, and he anchors the production with ease and panache. His voice is lovely, both solo and in the duets and trios, and he nails the range of emotion, from frustration to humor to pathos.

Overall, GAC’s production of tick, tick… BOOM charms and fascinates — as a portrait of the artist as a (relatively) young man, a foretaste of what he was to become, and a reminder of what we tragically lost too soon.  

Running Time: Approximately 90 minutes with no intermission.

Tick, Tick… BOOM! plays weekends through April 12, 2025 (Fridays and Saturdays at 8:00 PM; Sundays at 2:00 PM), at the Greenbelt Arts Center in the historic Roosevelt Community Center, located at 123 Centerway, Greenbelt, MD. Tickets (Adults $27, Seniors/Military $24, Children/Students $14) may be purchased online. For more information, phone the box office at 301-441-8770 or email boxgac@greenbeltartscenter.org.

The cast and creative credits for Tick, Tick… BOOM! — together with a downloadable program — are available here.

Content Warnings: recreational drug use, discussion of mortality and death, terminal illness, sexual content, mature language

COVID Safety: Masks are optional except at the performances March 30 and April 11, which are mask-required.

Tick, Tick… BOOM!
Book, Music, and Lyrics by Jonathan Larson
David Auburn, Script Consultant
Vocal Arrangements and Orchestrations by Stephen Oremus
Directed by Margo Myst McCready
Music Director: Anton Van De Motter
Assistant Director and Intimacy Choreographer: Fiona H.R. Murphey

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The British Players’ One Man, Two Guvnors is a cracking slapstick farce with just enough intellectual pedigree to satisfy the brain as well as the funny bone.

The play by Richard Bean is an English adaptation of The Servant of Two Masters (Il servitore di due padroni), a 1743 comedy by the Italian playwright Carlo Goldoni. It opened at the National Theatre of Great Britain in 2011 and transferred to the West End and then Broadway (earning a Tony award and international recognition for its lead, James Corden).

Set in Brighton, England, in 1963, it has all the classic hallmarks of farce — slamming doors, pratfalls, trousers around ankles, jokes about buxom young ladies, confusion about twins, fabricated friends used as excuses, and a very dumb blonde. But it also relies on its historical origins, with a mix of improvisation and scripted text, and stock characters from commedia such as the Wily Servant, the Sassy Maid, the Pompous Master, the Know-It-All, and the Lovers. Frequently, the characters break the fourth wall, turning to the audience to ad-lib, make jokes, ask questions, and explain the commedia dell’arte style, its structure, and their particular parts in it. There is also a great deal of tongue-twisting wordplay and a speech that debunks 500 years of theatrical fancy about fraternal vs. identical twins.

For the British Players, which is known for producing a “panto” (traditional British Christmas pantomime) every year, this is all stock-in-trade, and they handle it expertly — and it is clearly a complex endeavor, from the size of the creative staff required to bring it to life. Director Chrish Kresge keeps the pace cracking and all the theatrical spinning plates and juggling balls in the air. Intimacy Choreographer Helen Aberger has her hands full handling several comically dramatic clinches. Fight Choreographer Casey Kaleba manages the lighthearted violence — including a famous bit where the lead character has a knockdown-dragout fight with … himself.

The costumes by Patricia Kratzer expertly evoke early-Beatles-era Brighton, with pencil skirts and sweater twinsets accenting actresses’ assets and mile-high beehive hair (wigs by McKenna Kelley). Setting the scene, locales are presented through projections (designed by Matt Mills) on a fabric screen at the back of the stage — at one point, when the fabric happened to wave behind a projection of a seashore, it almost looked animated. Although probably accidental, it was very effective. Dave Means’ set, with technical design by Mike Lewis, is extremely elaborate, switching from the inside of a flat to different outdoor locales, including a quite beautiful bridge. Unfortunately, this leads to extremely long set changes, despite being set to spritely sixties music from the original production (sound design by Sarah Katz) — to the point where on opening night the audience began laughing at the struggles of the valiant stage crew. At least the punters applauded them at the end, but here’s hoping the pace picks up during the run.

Accent Coaches Pauline Griller-Mitchell and Chrish Kresge deftly fine-tune a number of varied British accents — although in the first scene of the play, the mixed accents, introductions of all the characters, scene-setting, and exposition all become slightly overwhelming for the audience. When the characters start to get stage time on their own, though, the play takes off into clear, clever comic mayhem.

And what characters they are. Simply because the play depends so heavily on the leading man and principals, several experienced actors are lamentably underused but still make the most of their parts. Bob Singer perseveres as pub-owner Lloyd, with an indeterminate accent. John Allnutt carries on yeomanlike as Gareth, the straight man in a duo of disastrous waiters. John Geoffrion expertly spouts off the Latinate gibberish required of the lawyer Harry Dangle, the classic Il Dottore (know-it-all) part.

The featured actors are even stronger. Chloe McGinness and Richard Jacobson are delightful as the comic lovers: Pauline, the intellectually underendowed blonde, and Alan, the overwhelmingly hammy actor. Pauline’s repeated “I don’t understand” and Alan’s bizarre, over-the-top metaphors are highlights. Roger Stone, as Charlie Clench, the mobster trying to marry off his daughter, manages to be menacing, obsequious, and funny all at once and tickles some mean keyboard at the end.

Jenn Robinson sizzles as the sexy, smart bookkeeper Dolly, based on the commedia role of the saucy maid. Her looks, accent, mannerisms, and delivery all captivate, whether she is enticing the leading man or delivering her spicy opinions to the women in the audience. Robinson’s craft is such that her character is clear even during scene changes, when she is silhouetted against the backdrop, merely putting an iron down with a flick of her wrist, or draped gracefully up against a door waiting for the lights to come up.

Steven Malone’s performance as Alfie, the doddering 87-year-old waiter, is worth the ticket price in itself. His mastery of the slapstick required of the role is marvelous. Laughing at someone having trouble with his pacemaker and falling down stairs might be uncomfortable if mishandled, but Malone manages to mix such dignity in with the decrepitude that it becomes clear we’re laughing not at him, but with him. His every appearance is a delight.

Sean Byrne shines as Stanley Stubbers, the certified upper-class twit. His portrayal is smarmy and slightly twisted, yet charming and attractive enough to be convincing as one of the main pair of lovers. As his love, Rachel Crabbe, Aparna Sri is a revelation. Known for playing more feminine parts, she spends much of the show swaggering around in a gangster’s suit and fedora, commanding the stage and everyone on it through sheer bravado. She sinks her teeth into the gender-bending range of emotion of the character and makes it delightfully funny.

And as Francis Henshall (the part that made James Corden a star), Alan Gonzalez Bisnes carries the weight of the entire show on his shoulders and makes it look easy. His command of some of the toughest slapstick in modern theater is remarkable, and his handling of improv, asides to the audience, manic exhaustion, and disquisitions on the nature of commedia are equally deft. His constant refrain of “I’m going to have to be very careful what I say here…” gets funnier each time he says it. As good as everyone else is, his performance is the capstone that holds the whole structure up. He puts in a tour de force performance, seemingly almost without breaking a sweat.

There are a few caveats the audience should know. One is that this show is very rooted in the attitudes and humor of the sixties, especially toward women. But since it actually dates from the 21st century, all of it is presented with a heaping helping of irony. There is also audience participation, in the grand tradition of panto. It is very funny to watch, but if you don’t want to be caught up in it, make sure your seats are not in the first few rows.

The British Players’ One Man, Two Guvnors serves up a feast of rib-tickling farce, slapstick, wordplay, and improv, with just enough sauce of wit, literature, and history to stimulate the nerd in all of us.

So come see One Man, Two Guvnors, laugh a lot, think a little, and go home happy.

Running Time: Approximately two hours and 30 minutes, including intermission.

One Man, Two Guvnors plays through March 29, 2025 (Fridays at 8:00 pm, Saturdays at 7:30 pm, and Saturdays and Sundays at 2:00 pm), presented by the British Players performing at Kensington Town Hall, 3710 Mitchell St, Kensington, MD. Purchase tickets ($28, group discounts available) at the door, online, or by email to boxoffice@britishplayers.org.

Not suitable for children under 12.

COVID Safety: Masks are optional.

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Among the scores of musicals I have seen, Working is unique. It is the only one that deals seriously with what real people spend most of their waking lives doing.

Based on the popular 1974 nonfiction book of the same name by oral historian Studs Terkel’s interviews with working people about how they felt about their jobs, Working is an intensely collaborative piece, with a book by Stephen Schwartz and Nina Faso, and music and lyrics by Schwartz, Craig Carnelia, Micki Grant, Mary Rodgers, James Taylor, and Susan Birkenhead. It premiered at the Goodman Theatre in Chicago in 1977 — interestingly, two years after what may be its closest cousin, A Chorus Line, which, while in some ways a classic showbiz musical, also springs from interviews and deals with the motivations and feelings of unknown people about their work. Working opened on Broadway in 1978 and has since undergone numerous revisions, including in 2009, with three new songs by Lin-Manuel Miranda.

The current production by Colonial Players in Annapolis is the fruit of all these collaborations and changes. It is a living thing. A company of 10 actors portrays 27 very different people, expressing their feelings about their work in song, monologues, and dialogues. The dates of the vignettes are projected on screens around the theater, presenting the nature of work from the ’70s until today, including technology from CB radios to cell phones.

Director Tom Wyatt has stitched together this complicated work almost seamlessly, from his fine casting, to bringing all the disparate elements together. He has made good use of the oval, in-the-round setup of the CP stage, taking care to preserve sight lines for everyone in the audience and make sure they can always see at least some actors’ faces (although the characters on the center line could have been staggered just a bit in group numbers). The problem of how to juggle the actors’ positions convincingly is trickier; sometimes it is naturalistic — at one point an actor makes as if to leave, then turns around in the exit as if he forgot to say something, giving the audience on the other side of the stage a full view of him. Other times, it is almost turned into a joke, with an actor running as if to catch up with her light. The ones where the actors seem to have motivation for their moves are the most effective. But with the audience only three rows deep, there really are no bad seats in the house. The director also makes sure the actors take great care in realistically miming the work they are doing, from office workers typing on computer keyboards or monotonously moving a mouse, to a stone mason expertly laying mortar and rock, to the backbreaking, boring and yet almost balletic work of steaming a suitcase into shape every 40 seconds.

The technical aspects also serve the story well. Edd Miller’s set consists of stylized gears painted into the center of the stage, and video screens positioned around the walls where all audience members can see them. There is also a pair of windows on one wall, and an alcove representing a corner office. Everything else (besides occasional rolling chairs and computer stands) is left to the miming of the actors and the imagination of the audience.

Diane Trickey-Rokenbrod’s lighting is quite effective, for the most part. While occasionally area lights seem to come up too early, causing actors to rush to get into them, or too late, leaving them in dimness for a few seconds, there are several projections of firelight — first in the center of the stage indicating a campfire, and then in the windows on the wall evoking a house fire — that are quite impressive.

Beth Terranova’s costumes are ordinary yet meaningful. Firefighters, tree climbers, office workers, mill workers, sex workers, truckers, socialites, caretakers, retirees are all delineated clearly yet unobtrusively. There is a fast food worker with an amusingly universal uniform, a chorus of cleaning ladies in charming pink scrub tops, and an absolutely gorgeous pink waitress outfit fit for a star — which is fitting, because this waitress actually sees herself as one, in the delightful number “It’s an Art.”

Many of the character changes are accomplished through Maria Neves’s wigs, with varying success. Given how fast some of the costume changes need to happen, in most cases, a good wig is one that doesn’t draw attention to itself.

There is no musical director listed, but there is a four-piece band (Reid Bowman, Bass; Marie Hansen, Piano; Jefferson Hirschman, Guitar; Jeremy Ulrich, Percussion) that provides unobtrusive support for the voices and excellent harmonies of the cast.

And quite a cast it is. All are top-notch; some stand out.

Lance Teller has a soaring voice and is charmingly funny as a fast-food worker feeling free when out for “Delivery,” and touchingly real as the son of the stonemason in “The Mason.” Ben Carr presents a dedicated fireman, but still perfectly portrays the slimy Gordon-Gecko-like CEO who knows that people like him have the perfect right to run the world. His self-satisfied musing that when he retires he might actually want to teach and “pass on his wisdom” contrasts painfully with Cheryl J. Campo’s actual schoolteacher, trying to make it to her own retirement while dealing with a bewildering new generation of students in “Nobody Tells Me How.” Kristen Cooley is wrenching as an exhausted mill worker who does it because it’s all she can do (“The men all quit,” she says. “It’s too boring for them. They can only think about one thing at a time”) in “Millwork.” Then she delights taking the lead in “Cleanin’ Women,” singing about how, if it’s up to them, their daughters will never have to clean for other people as their mothers did, and they do.

Kyle Eshom and Cheryl J. Campo are equally heartrending in “A Very Good Day” as an elder-care worker and a nanny who show their commitment to their charges while stating bluntly, “I do the work that no one else will do.” Christian Gonzalez sparks laughter in a monologue about the joys of wearing a tool belt as an ironworker and a tree-climber, and his voice is achingly beautiful singing the Spanish lyrics in “Un Mejor Dia Vendra” (alongside Lance Teller’s English monologue) about living as a migrant worker — a piece everyone needs to hear right now.

Sarah Kent is equally funny as a deli owner who improbably wants to be a fashion designer, and a socialite/fundraiser who is more similar than she knows to Tia Silver’s enterprising escort/prostitute. Silver also hits all the right notes as a harassed project manager, and a college student who knows she is destined for great things but might just have to “settle for” being an entrepreneur. She most captivates the audience in her plaintive anthem to that most underappreciated job, “Just a Housewife.”

Samantha McEwen Deininger delivers a marvelous monologue as a flight attendant, and an even more spectacular star turn as a waitress who takes pride in her work (perhaps more than she deserves to) in “It’s an Art.” Both her voice and her acting are superb.

And Peter N. Crews proves a chameleon who grabs the audience’s heart in every character he portrays, from the lead in the song “Brother Trucker,” where he talks on the CB radio, fantasizes about women on long trips, and always finds a reason not to go home to his wife; to the stonemason who takes pride in every stone he lays, knowing they will last; to a very funny, very nervous PR manager; to an utterly mesmerizing turn as “Joe,” a retired man who visibly ages decades in the few minutes he is on the stage. The show is worth seeing for his performance alone.

But there is so much more.

Perhaps the best thing about Working is the one that makes it most unusual. As conceived by Daniel C. Levine, the monologues and songs are interspersed with video interviews with real, local people about their jobs, which are relevant to the subjects being touched on in the show. They include a hairdresser, a social worker, a community leader, an archivist, a bartender, a retired pilot, and a shipbuilder. The most moving interview presents a man named Floyd Tasker, the custodian for the Colonial Players. “I love to work,” he says. “I’ve never had a job I didn’t like. Sometimes I’ve had five or six jobs at the same time, and I’ve loved every single one of them.” Of all the workers in the show, he may be the most admirable.

Working overflows with things we all do and think about every day. At one point an office drone says, “This is the first time in generations our lives will be worse than our parents’.” The cast sing sadly about lost dreams in “If I Could Have Been.” But they express pride in their work, whatever it is, insisting that every building should have the names of everyone who worked on it or in it etched in stone around the base, because everyone should have “Something to Point To.” In one of the last numbers in the show, “Fathers and Sons,” the singers reveal that ultimately the most important reason many people work is for their kids. In the performance I saw, a cast member could be seen wiping tears from his eyes — and it seemed to be a private, emotional moment, not an act. The show was that real for him, and that made it even more real for the audience.

No one here is magically beautiful, or having their big break into fame, or leading a revolution, or destined to fall in love by the finale. These people do, think, and feel the same things we all do, every day. The mundanity and futility, as well as the necessity, nobility and humanity, of sheer hard work shine through every word and every note. Working is a musical about ordinary people and their ordinary lives, and that makes it extraordinary.

I cannot emphasize this enough. This show is unique. You will never have a chance to see this particular production ever again.

Do not miss it.

Running Time: Approximately two hours and 30 minutes, including one intermission.

Working plays through March 29, 2025 (Thursdays–Saturdays at 8 pm; Sunday matinees March 16 and 23 at 2 pm), at Colonial Players of Annapolis – 108 East Street, Annapolis, MD. For tickets ($21–$26), call the box office at 410-268-7373, opt 2, or purchase online. A virtual playbill is available here.

Contains strong language and mature themes.

Working
From the book by Studs Terkel
Adapted by Nina Faso & Stephen Schwartz
Localized format conceived by Daniel C. Levine for ACT of CT
Directed by Tom Wyatt

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For a decade, Theatre@CBT at Congregation B’nai Tzedek in Potomac has produced musicals for the enjoyment and edification of families, friends, and the wider DC area. The final show of their tenth season is Lionel Bart’s Oliver! — a solid choice as a family show with a Jewish connection.

Oliver! is the product of two worlds, both of them somewhat removed from our own. The first is the original 1837-8 Dickens novel, and the second is 1960s Broadway. Oliver Twist, or the Parish Boy’s Progress was the first of Dickens’ great social consciousness novels, drawing on his own experiences to criticize the misery of children in poverty during the Industrial Revolution and satirize those who created it. It presents a young boy, Oliver Twist, who begins life in a workhouse before being sold to an undertaker, escaping and joining a gang of young pickpockets run by an evil fence, and then serendipitously finding his long-lost family and retiring to a comfortable country life in an improbably happy ending.

The first problem presented by the book is that the head of the criminal gang, Fagin, is referred to as “the Jew” throughout the first 38 chapters, and painted in the most satanic terms. This has led to charges of antisemitism against the usually progressive Dickens. It turns out, however, that Dickens did not mean to smear all Jewish people with his portrayal but based the character on a real criminal from the time, “Ikey Solomon.” Nevertheless, while the novel was still being published in monthly installments, a lady friend wrote to the author to decry his “vile prejudice” and the harm to the Jewish people done by the portrayal of Fagin. Dickens took her message to heart and, for the remaining 15 chapters, barely referenced Fagin’s religion at all. Still, the character has come down to us as one of the most heinous portraits of a Jew in English literature.

Oliver! creator Lionel Bart, Jewish himself, tackled the problem by making Fagin a sympathetic, almost fatherly scoundrel and giving him funny songs that make a feature of his heritage, like “Reviewing the Situation,” with lines and melodies that would fit right in Fiddler on the Roof four years later.

Bart is somewhat less successful dealing with the story’s second problem, the portrayal of women. First, we meet Widow Corney (gamely played here by Lauren-Nicole Gabel) fake-protesting “I Shall Scream” when the Beadle Mr. Bumble (Michael Abendshein) puts the moves on her. This kind of “no-means-yes-but-only-if-you-marry-me” coyness causes us to cringe in the modern era. Similarly, in the novel, Dickens was criticized for making Nancy, a woman of the streets and member of Fagin’s gang, too sympathetic and noble when he was trying to show the dire straits that poverty could lead women into. The musical, too, seems to try to sweeten up her story too much. Her famous number “As Long as He Needs Me” — in its swelling romantic music and lines like “I’ll love him right or wrong…. I won’t betray his trust…Though people say I must” — glorifies her love for the vile Bill Sikes (who eventually bludgeons her to death). With our modern outrage toward domestic violence, the song now reads as a textbook case of Stockholm Syndrome experienced by women in abusive relationships, not tragic devotion to be celebrated.

Oliver! is a classic, however, and Theatre@CBT’s production dives into it with enthusiasm. As always, their stage is the Bima of the Sanctuary in the synagogue, which limits entrances, exits, scenery, and lighting. But the CBT creative team, led by co-directors Michael Abenshein and Arielle Katz, does well making do with what they have. Melissa Yunes’ costumes and the one backdrop have a dark Steampunk flair, which lends them cohesiveness beyond the usual pseudo-Victorian style of such productions, as well as touching on the gear-grinding effect of the Industrial Revolution that gave rise to such misery. The set pieces and properties (by Larry Issadore and Nancy Carlin) are very basic — benches, a chair, and some painted-stone boxes — except for the startling addition of a genuine satin-lined coffin in the undertaker scene.

Music director Aaron Simmons and assistant Paul Rossen do justice to the score, bringing lively accompaniment from the eight-piece orchestra, which balances the chorus and supports the individual singers well (although Matthew Datcher’s usually capable sound cut out a few times on individual mics). One highlight is the lovely “Who Will Buy,” where Oliver’s solo is enhanced by the lilting counterpoint of a quartet of street sellers (Margo Weill, Sari Gabel, Lauren-Nicole Gabel, Michael Abendshein).

May Kesler’s choreography is complicated enough to be a challenge for the company and interesting to the audience. It is carried off enthusiastically by the Adult Ensemble (Len Breslow, Charlie [Sadie] Cohen, Sari Gabel, Allison Ganzhorn, Bruce Rosenberg, MollyBeth Rushfield, Tom Schiller, Margo Weill, and Colleen Williams) and especially by Fagin’s Gang (Jessa Gabel, Andrea Sanger, Elena Sanger, Emma Lipworth, Jordanna Maarec, Mai Miller, Lila Mosier, Jackie Williams, Dani Yunes, Laila Yunes, and Sydney Yunes) and the Kid’s Ensemble (Talia Bender, Orly Echerman, Ethan Ganzhorn, Alex Lipworth, Aya Miller, Gabe Winoker, and Reese Katz). Some of the elements of the dances are a little perplexing, such as two women waving a piece of blue fabric, which they then proceed to fold (is it meant to be water? laundry?), or characters dancing with red fans or parasols (where did a street gang get those?). These seemingly random elements arise, in a sense, from the nature of the show, for a large chunk in the middle of the libretto consists of a bunch of numbers very loosely related either to the plot or to each other. While “Pick a Pocket or Two” and “It’s a Fine Life” deal with the gang’s shady profession and Nancy’s sarcastic enthusiasm for crime and poverty, respectively, “I’d Do Anything,” “Be Back Soon,” “Oom-Pah-Pah,” and the way too long “Consider Yourself” — although they are nicely done and some of the most beloved songs in the show — seem to interrupt the story with forced cheer. But one inspired choreographic choice is to replace a dance break in “Consider Yourself” with a kind of impromptu circus, with spinning hoops, ribbons, and the irrepressible Artful Dodger (Jessa Gabel on Saturday night) artfully spinning poi (weights on flexible cables). This is impressive enough to feel like an enhancement rather than just an extension of the number.

While the chorus is clearly enjoying itself, the principals rise to a higher level. Colleen Williams and Margo Weill have nasty fun as Mr. and Mrs. Sowerberry, the undertakers, singing “That’s Your Funeral.”

Rob Milanic, a CBT stalwart, shows a very different side as a truly terrifying Bill Sikes. Unfortunately, the low voice part doesn’t do justice to his usually soaring tenor, and the character is written as such an unmitigated monster that it is impossible to comprehend how Nancy could ever fall in love with him.

As Nancy, Clare Anderson creates a well-rounded character, showing mixed emotions even in the relentlessly cheerful double-entendre song “Oom-Pah-Pah.” Her awareness of how she is trapped by her love for Bill and later her dawning realization of her love for Oliver in “As Long as He Needs Me” are truly moving.

Fagin, as he is meant to be, is the most interesting and funniest character in the show, and Jeffery Hall plays him to the hilt. His fine voice, amusing asides, little bits of business as he gets “fooled” by the gang in “Pick a Pocket or Two,” and his confused musings in “Reviewing the Situation” are delightful. In addition, his fatherly feeling for Oliver comes naturally offstage as well as on!

As the title character, Evie Hall brings a clear, bright voice, touching acting, and sincerity that are perfect for the role.

There are some awkwardnesses in the production — the ending scenes, especially, seem filled with strange pauses, as if the actors are waiting for a cue in the music to make their next move during what should be a sustained rush to the climax. And then, although it is nice to see Oliver get his family and Fagin go off with the Artful Dodger to their next adventure, the fitful timing makes it feel somehow anticlimactic. But overall, whatever the Theatre@CBT production of Oliver! lacks in polish, it makes up in heart.

Here’s to the next ten years.

Running Time: Approximately two and a half hours with one intermission.

Oliver! played on Saturday, February 8, and Sunday, February 9, 2025, presented by Theatre@CBT performing at Congregation B’nai Tzedek, 10621 South Glen Road, Potomac, MD. Information on future productions is available on the web or on Facebook.

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Those of us of a certain age will recall — perhaps with a feeling currently called “cringe” — a pseudo-feminist TV commercial slogan from the ’70s: “You’ve come a long way, baby!” In fact, there are heaps of things from that era that we now cringe to think about — the decor, the clothes, the dancing, and especially the attitudes toward women.

And that is the tricky part about mounting a musical based on the film 9 to 5, about three secretaries taking revenge, both imagined and real, on their “sexist, egotistical, lying, hypocritical bigot” boss. A lot has changed since the 1980 film, and even since the Broadway musical premiered in 2009. On one hand, women’s rights in the workplace have made some progress, but on the other, the #MeToo movement, which raised awareness but changed little, and the failure to shatter the ultimate glass ceiling show how far women still have to go.

When it comes to long-simmering frustrations, one feels like one must either scream or laugh. Jane Fonda, who produced and starred in the original film, chose to laugh, consciously steering away from anything that could be seen as preachy or lecturing. The movie stuck firmly to satirical fantasy, and so does the musical, approaching annoying issues through charm rather than chiding.

That approach is abundantly clear in the thoroughly entertaining production of 9 to 5 The Musical at Toby’s Dinner Theatre through March 16. Director Mark Minnick has pulled all the elements for a sparkling show from the drab 1970s. David A. Hopkins and Shale Lowry’s scenic design is a prime example — dreary colors coupled with fake wood paneling and oversized abstract shapes on the walls perfectly evoke the decade that taste forgot. But Lynn Joslin’s lighting design makes even these awkward patterns light up in rainbow colors when things get lively. In addition, blank clocks on the walls display video clips of the actual Dolly Parton, who starred in the film and wrote the music and lyrics for the musical, providing narration and a link to the source material.

Heather C. Jackson’s costumes do even more scene-setting and storytelling. The women’s business skirts, pussybow blouses, and jackets and the men’s three-piece suits place the show firmly in the pre-power-dressing era. Other costumes set characters apart. In her big number, when she fantasizes being the CEO, head secretary Violet makes a quick costume change into a gray pinstripe suit (but with sequined lapels and a bright red blouse) and dances with a chorus of also-pinstriped men. But it is a sign of earlier times that the only way she can see herself as in charge is if she looks and acts, as the big production number says, just like “One of the Boys.” Doralee (the main sex object of the story, who sings a song about being stereotyped as a “Backwoods Barbie”), while she is dressed in tighter skirts, lower necklines, and brighter colors than the other women, is still given dignity, not taken to clownish levels of sexiness. The emphasis is not on her appearance as much as on the creepiness of the men who sing about getting their hands on “those double Ds,” and the cattiness of the women who assume just from her looks that she must be sleeping with the boss.

The music lends even more to the air of fizzy cheerfulness. Dolly Parton’s country-flavored score won’t send you home humming any memorable numbers other than the opening “9 to 5” hit that you already knew. But Music Director Ross Rawlings and his six-piece orchestra bring it to knee-slapping life and make the most of its bright melodies and clacking-typewriter rhythms. He also charms terrific harmonies from the excellent chorus.

Christen Svingos’s not-at-all-disco choreography is a celebration in itself. Whether making office busywork seem lively or portraying lecherous company men or loopy Disneyesque woodland creatures, the chorus members fill the circular stage with kaleidoscopic action to bring their excitement and enthusiasm to every member of the audience. Director Minnick also works his usual magic in choreographing the dialogue, making sure that even though the action is in the round, every audience member can see at least one actor’s face and filling scene changes with nicely distracting pieces of business.

To top everything off, the voices and acting are terrific. Diane Alonzo has the rather thankless job of portraying Roz, the spying suck-up personal assistant who inexplicably actually adores her cheating, sexist boss. The role goes to show that not every woman in the ’70s was a feminist and that some in the war of the sexes were collaborating with the enemy. Her big love song to the big jerk, “Heart to Hart,” could descend into the deeply cringey if not for Alonzo’s head-over-heels delivery and the ludicrous presence of the chorus carrying posters portraying the boss as a host of Roz’s fantasies.

As that boss, Franklin B. Hart, Jordan B. Stocksdale has the even tougher job of making a despicable character not so extremely repellent that he’s no longer funny. Stockdale manages this by giving Hart just a hint of an inner life and genuine feelings. In his big number about his lust for Doralee, “Here for You,” there’s just a scintilla of sincerity, the ghost of an idea that he might at least think he actually loves her, which blunts the coarseness of his saying, “Will I get those legs uncrossed? ’Course I will, yeah, ’cause I’m the boss.” And in the three women’s revenge-fantasy sequences, he plays the victim with enough wide-eyed ingenuousness to keep the tone light, if homicidal. In the end, he gets what he deserves in a way that is satisfying but not sadistic.

Above all, it is the lead trio of women who make the show soar. Their scenes together are funny and charming, and their voices blend beautifully. As Violet, the no-nonsense head secretary who has spent years training men who are then promoted above her, Janine Sunday brings good-natured grit to her scene-setting number “Around Here,” a demented charm to her Disney-princess murder fantasy, “Potion Notion,” and satisfying sass to her big production number, “One of the Boys.” In between, she is very funny when her professionalism collapses into panic when she thinks she actually has bumped off her boss, and her comic delivery is excellent. MaryKate Brouillet, as the initially mousy divorcée, Judy, shows the most character development, delving into the role of femme fatale in her own homicidal vision, “The Dance of Death,” and then showing the true independent woman she has become when rejecting her cheating ex in the showstopper belting number, “Get Out and Stay Out.” And in the role of Doralee, Rachel Cahoon highlights her range, playing a markedly different character from her innocent Fraulein Maria in Toby’s previous show, The Sound of Music. Here, she channels her inner Dolly Parton to a T, complete with her sweet, high, quick-vibrato, country voice. Even so, Doralee also grows in character and confidence, coming to realize that she is far more than what people see when they look at her.

All in all, Toby’s Dinner Theatre’s 9 to 5 The Musical takes what could be a discomforting reminder of how dreary and frustrating the workplace was for women in the 1970s and makes it into a fizzy, funny, satirical fantasy by giving it heart. It even updates a few ideas, introducing the idea of a mature woman genuinely loving a younger man, and hinting at two women in a relationship. Perhaps we have “come a long way,” at least because we less frequently address grown women as “baby.” But how much hasn’t changed, even under the cheery musical coating, is a reminder that we still have a way to go.

Running Time: Approximately two and a half hours with one intermission.

9 to 5 The Musical plays through March 16, 2025, at Toby’s Dinner Theatre, 5900 Symphony Woods Road, Columbia, MD. Tickets, including dinner and show (adult, $84–$92; child, $64–$67), can be purchased by calling 410-730-8311 or online. (Rates per person include dinner, show, coffee and tea, and tax.)

The menu is here. The playbill is here.

9 to 5 The Musical
Music and Lyrics by Dolly Parton
Book by Patricia Resnick
Based on the Twentieth Century Fox film

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