WELCOME to #TheatreClique — my emphatically intermittent newsletter dedicated to encouraging you to click out to some of the most interesting, intriguing & noteworthy writing about drama, theatre & performance (at least, so says me)…
This installment of #TheatreClique clicks out to pieces that consider how performance can rebuild memories, mark full circles, or call up justice — with commentary on my experience of recent productions including The Rocky Horror Show, Beaches, and Schmigadoon! And for this week’s opener, I lift this adorable and eye-popping video from drag artist/cholita Salina EsTitties celebrating her recently confirmed participation in the soon forthcoming RuPaul’s Drag Race All Stars 11.…and if clicking the embedded image below routes to an error message, try clicking here.
EDITOR’S NOTE: whenever possible, whenever linking to paywalled pieces, I try to “gift” the article to #TheatreClique readers. In other words, clicking out to articles in the New York Times, Washington Post, Philadelphia Inquirer, Atlantic, and Wall Street Journal should neither present hassle nor burn through your current allotment of free views. Here’s hoping more outlets — hello LATimes! hi NewYorkMagazine! yo NewYorker!— adopt similar technologies for subscribers soon...
Wherein I highlight a handful of the most click-worthy links I’ve encountered in the last few…
at HyperAllergic, independent journalist/producer Anna Oakes profiles performance artist Rawya El Chab about the ways her work “tends to the wounds of Lebanon’s civil war” and to the “rebuilding of memory in the face of its destruction”;
for BillyPenn/WHYY, veteran Philadelphia arts/culture writer Jane M. Von Bergen highlights how the experiences of Philadelphia’s Southeast Asian community anchor Saymoukda Duangphouxay Vongsay’s Seng’s Hair Salon, InterAct Co.’s latest offering in its “Philly Cycle” series;
at W42St, independent writer/nightlife-legend Michael Musto reviews “a campy Broadway triple bill: Titanique, Rocky Horror and Schmigadoon!” (keep scrolling for my comments on the latter two);
The New York Times’s culture correspondent Jesse Green highlights “13 Actors to See Onstage — No Matter What They’re In”;
and should the good Mr. Green solicit nominations for a 14th such actor, I might suggest Maria-Christina Oliveras — who happens to also be the subject of a profile by Playbill’s Diep Tran on the occasion of the “full circle moment” of her appearance in The Balusters at Manhattan Theatre Club, where Oliveras interned twenty-five years ago.
Wherein I boost notable forthcoming engagement opportunities worth knowing about.
Calling Up Justice - Summer Internship 2026
A paid, disability-centered professional development opportunity for emerging creatives interested in arts, technology, justice, and community leadership for applicants 21-30 years old. Interns receive $200 per week for approximately 10 hours per week over 4 months, gaining hands-on experience, mentorship, and practical skills in accessible creative production. The executive producer of Calling Up Justice is theatremaker/advocate Claudia Alick.
Application Form DUE May 2 2026 12pm PT
Wherein I offer capsule commentaries on what I liked best (or found most compelling) about the shows I’ve recently engaged... A full accounting of my 2026 theatregoing can be found HERE.
Book, Music, & Lyrics by Richard O’Brien • Directed by Sam Pinkleton • Choreography by Ani Taj • NYC : Broadway • Studio54 • April 2026.
Rocky Horror is one of those cultural texts that has carried so many different meanings for me through my many encounters with it — first, vicariously, through the 1980 film Fame; next, through my many midnight screenings at Albuquerque’s Don Pancho’s Art Theatre in subsequent years; then, through the strangeness of its home-video release and seemingly constant rotation on VH1 in the 1990s; and so on and so on. But among evolving repertoire of adjectives I might have used to describe the Rocky Horror phenomenon over the years — underground! sexy! cult classic! outsider! dark! rebellious! edgy! queer! camp! rowdy! irreverent! messy! mainstream! — I don’t know that I have ever before considered using the word JOY to describe my Rocky Horror experience. But, thanks to the wonders of Sam Pinkleton’s open-armed production at Studio54, I find that I now also adore Rocky Horror as an unexpectedly eternal font of exuberant, irreverent, and inclusive queer joy. (Indeed, as the houselights came up at intermission, I realized I had been grinning through the entirety of the first act.) ‘Twas an early moment in the opening song — when a chorus of mannequins joined Juliette Lewis’s Usherette as backup for “Science Fiction Double Feature” — that fully strapped me in for the gift of this Rocky Horror ride. Pinkleton’s production balances a Muppet-like “let’s put on a show” giddiness and a Charles Ludlam-esque ir/reverence for cultural antecedents, all within the trashstastic late-night dance party ambience evoked by its staging at Studio54. Some of my favorite flourishes? Rachel Dratch’s droll presentness as the narrator. Stephanie Hsu’s fiercely funny characterization of Janet — charting her journey from sexual repression to expression and continuing all the way through to righteous empowerment. The many visual jokes punctuated by Jane Cox’s lushly lurid lighting. The strikingly analog work of dots to integrate the environs of Studio54. The giant eyeball showgirls. And — yes — the dazzling singing/dancing/acting talents of Luke Evans as Frank, Andrew Durand as Brad, and Josh Rivera as Rocky — it’s as if Sam Pinkleton crafted a customized sampler of Broadway eye-candy just for me. (Thank you, Sam.) While the production’s adamantly mixed reviews (and some blowback from the fandom) suggest that this production might not have met everyone’s Rocky Horror needs — and, hey, since when has any iteration of Rocky Horror been to everyone’s taste — I can only attest to the fact that this Rocky sure as f*** scratched a 2026 itch I didn’t even know I had. Now if only I could time warp my way into the exuberant, irreverent, defiantly analog, inclusively queer joy of Sam Pinkleton’s Rocky Horror on the daily — or even once weekly at midnight — that would be perfect.
See also:
at Cote Notices, veteran theatre writer/critic David Cote delves into Rocky Horror’s layered history in a full-throated celebration of how this “Rocky Horror stands out as a trash masterpiece that knows what you want and intends to give it to you, hard”;.
The New York Times’s Rachel Sherman details how this Rocky Horror has sought a “delicate balance” when calibrating the “audience participation that longtime fans are used to.”
Book by Iris Rainer Dart & Thom Thomas • Music by Mike Stoller • Lyrics by Iris Rainer Dart • Based on the novel by Iris Rainer Dart • Directed by Lonny Price & Matt Cowart • NYC : Broadway • Majestic Theatre • April 2026.
I know I saw the 1988 movie version of Beaches at the cinema during its original release. I might have clicked into a scene or two on some cable channel in the decades that followed. But even so, my memory of the film are mere wisps. Bette Midler’s a lot! Baby Mayim Bialek is even more! An uptight Barbara Hershey gets sick! Bring your kleenex! But is that a wind beneath my wings?!? But encountering the Broadway musical retelling seemed to confirm that my vague recollections kinda capture the dramatic architecture of Beaches: an unlikely friendship forged in the quick crucible of childhood becomes a guiding light for two very different women over the next three decades. We’ve got the self-absorbed potty-mouthed showbizzer CeeCee Bloom — who is as insufferable as she is talented — and the quietly brilliant but properly prim Bertie White. At its goopy heart, Beaches is a love story — between CeeCee and Bertie — propelled by the galvanizing power of mutual witness. Bertie sees through CeeCee’s bluster to the potential force of her real talent, while CeeCee — taken, perhaps, by Bertie’s power of discernment — becomes Bertie’s most forthright champion as she bridles beneath the feminine mystique of uppercrust constraint. And to its credit, the musicalization of Beaches goes all in on the romance of this — platonic and emphatically heterosexual — love story between two women. (The many crowdpleasing “I love the gays” jokes swapped by CeeCee and Bertie also help to fortify the straightness of these girls.) But long-distance romance — via snail mail, no less — is tricky to dramatize on stage. (On this score, the long-running and surprisingly-effective little weepie Pen Pals outpaces Beaches.) But following what TimeOut’s Adam Feldman aptly describes as “Broadway’s recently ubiquitous Rule of Three,” this Beaches does benefit from captivating performances by all six of its CeeCees and Berties, with the youngest (Samantha Schwartz and Zeya Grace) bringing jolts of spunky charm and the eldest (Jessica Vosk and Kelli Barrett) serving gravitas, glamor and high belts. And Jessica Vosk’s CeeCee is the axis upon which this Beaches spins, proving the veteran trouper Vosk’s capacity to not only create a role but also carry a show. Yet even with the gale force of Vosk’s voice and charisma — so beautifully balanced by the warmth of Barrett’s voice and presence — this Beaches somehow ends up being simply serviceable. Pleasant enough, yes. But not particularly interesting or exciting. (Lonny Price and Matt Cowart’s entirely functional production seems to have been built so it could load right into touring truck and I wish CeeCee’s many sparkly costumes didn’t remind me so of RPDR design challenges at their crunchiest.) Still, I suspect that Beaches could/would/should delight on tour and, with that wind beneath its wings, become a community theatre favorite.
See also:
People’s Desiree Anello talks to Jessica Vosk about hearing the audience’s sobs from the stage during the last twenty minutes of Broadway’s Beaches;
TheatreMania’s David Gordon talks to Jessica Vosk and Kelly Barrett about “friendship, Bette Midler, and creating a new version of a movie they’ve seen a million times.”
Book, Music & Lyrics by Cinco Paul • Directed by Christopher Gattelli • NYC : Broadway • Nederlander Theatre • April 2026.
I delighted in Schmigadoon! as a limited series. In writer/creator Cinco Paul’s stage adaptation, however, Schmigadoon!’s structural complexity — a contemporary romantic dramedy dropped into a high-style alternative universe of a golden age musical mashup — deepens with unexpected charm. Alex Brightman’s Josh and Sara Chase’s Melissa are two NYC doctors whose “meet cute” has not yet led to marriage or contentment but to their breakup after a disastrous marriage counseling “retreat” in the woods. Somehow the still-bickering couple stumbles, fatefully, across a stone bridge into Schmigadoon, a bucolic throwback of a town where things are simpler, happier, and filled with spontaneous songs (and elaborate choreography). When the pair discover — thanks to the explanation provided by a snarky leprechaun — that they cannot leave Schmigadoon without their true love, Melissa and Josh separate to commence their (separate) hero’s journeys toward discovering who (and what) they want in (and from) love. In their parallel picaresque quests for love, Melissa and Josh encounter the denizens of Schmigadoon — the farmer’s beauty of a daughter and the brooding carnival barker, the much-gossipped-about schoolmarm and the handsome widowed doctor, the mayor and the minister and their wives — who help the outsiders find their way back to their love together. Paul’s joke-laden dialogue animates the nimble yet sturdy musical theatrical apparatus of his book. Each character gets their own big number —each equal part homage and sly send-up of canonical “Golden Age” musical tropes — that, in the aggregate, make Schmigadoon! one of the most exciting ensemble musicals I’ve experience in some while. Buoyed by director/choreographer Christopher Gatelli’s energetic staging, the sheer abundance of onstage talent is exhilarating. As carnival barker Danny Bailey, the athleticism of Max Clayton’s dancing is matched by the sly vocal wit of his characterization. Likewise, McKenzie Kurtz’s full-blast (and slightly unhinged) charm as the winsome Betsy is a hoot. Isabelle McCalla’s schoolteacher Emma launches the second act by leading an exhilarating tap number that somehow feels like a warm hug. And as the town’s requisite harridan Mildred Leighton, Ana Gasteyer somehow raises the roof while also bringing the house down at the crest of act two. And the blazingly talented Townspeople of Schmigadoon — aka the gaggle of veteran troupers comprising this production’s truly exceptional ensemble — make every step, turn, and scene-change a delight to watch. Through it all, Chase’s Melissa and Brightman’s Josh both anchor and elevate the proceedings — Chase’s Melissa sings with incrementally greater confidence, while Brighman’s Josh turns his incisive with with gradually growing tenderness — until they find their way back to happiness with each other. (Josh’s climactic decision to sing carries weightier poignancy onstage.) Melissa and Josh’s reunion is celebrated, of course, with a rousing group finale with the denizens of Schmigadoon. A strikingly effective and accomplished adaptation of the already delightful source material, Schmigadoon! will likely be coming soon to a touring house and/or a high school stage near you…
See also:
American Theatre’s Rob Weinert-Kendt talks to writer/composer Cinco Paul about how his Schmigadoon! “score pays cock-eyed tribute to the mid-century American musical”;
The Wall Street Journal’s Charles Isherwood details how “Schmigadoon! celebrates the musicals it evokes with as much spirited conviction as it lampoons them. Parody, in this case, is the sincerest form of flattery”;
TheatreMania’s David Gordon talks to the Schmigadoon! creative team about how “something that already breathed like a stage show still had to be torn apart and rebuilt before it could truly exist as one.”
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.