
There are holiday shows that entertain, and then there are holiday shows that wrap you up—the kind that feel like stepping inside a snow globe of music, memory, and pure theatrical joy. Studio Tenn’s production of Irving Berlin’s White Christmas, now dazzling audiences at Turner Theater at The Factory at Franklin, is very much the latter. Under the direction of Patrick Cassidy, with a warm nod to the story’s cinematic origin, and powered by a starry, tap-happy cast, this beloved classic arrives with all the shimmer and heart audiences expect, plus a few luminous surprises. With opening night snow, showstopping choreography, and voices that echo the golden age of movie musicals, this White Christmas may well be Studio Tenn’s most enchanting holiday offering yet.
Cassidy’s interpretation of the fan favorite feels like exactly what a holiday musical should be—a big-hearted confection wrapped in nostalgia, polished to a glossy Broadway shine, and delivered by a cast who understand that style, sincerity, and spectacular dance numbers are the holy trinity of this beloved classic.
While White Christmas traditionally seems best suited for a larger venue, Andrew Cohen’s picture postcard scenic design works perfectly with Turner Theatre’s more intimate space. By presenting the inn and other key sets with a more minimalist approach, ie smaller set pieces on casters, while focusing the heft of his set design on the barn, which serves as backdrop to most of the larger all-in cast numbers, Cohen adds to the action, rather than drawing too much attention from it. Devon Renee Spencer’s sumptuous costumes, from those pink and green holiday costumes early in Act 1 and her take on Betty’s solo gown to the iconic finale garb are a wardrobe wonderland themselves. Darren Levin’s painterly lighting brilliantly coveys mood scene by scene. These craftspeople combined with Scott Brons’ lush musical direction, and the production glows from first tableau to that highly-anticipated, but much-loved final snowfall.
But the secret to White Christmas has always been its quartet at the center: two entertainers, two sisters, four hearts that collide, resist, and inevitably soften under falling snowflakes and Irving Berlin’s irresistible melodies. Studio Tenn’s leads deliver beautifully.
Ben Laxton, as the steady, dry-witted Bob Wallace, anchors the show with clean vocals and a grounded charm that never attempts to mimic Bing Crosby, but instead finds a sincerity and warmth all his own. His rendition of Count Your Blessings Instead of Sheep lands with a quiet power—simple, heartfelt, and beautifully sung.
Laxton pairs especially well with Lisa Karlin’s Betty Haynes, whose rich, velvety alto brings a classic, old-Hollywood elegance to every number she touches. Her Love, You Didn’t Do Right By Me—a personal favorite moment of mine—was delivered with haunting restraint, channeling Rosemary Clooney without imitation and earning one of the night’s strongest responses.
On the other side of the romantic coin, Jeremy Benton and Elizabeth McGuire ignite the stage as Phil Davis and Judy Haynes. Benton, not stranger to area theatre audiences, was last seen in Nashville as Bert in Nashville Rep‘s 2022 production of Mary Poppins, is also no stranger to the role, having performed in the National Tour of White Christmas and incredible 7 seasons. Speaking of previous connections to the show, Benton’s on-stage love interest McGuire, who’s making her Studio Tenn debut in the show, has previously appeared in two regional productions of White Christmas. Not only do they match the flirtatious comedic energy required of the roles, they also jointly co-choreographed the production—an ambitious undertaking given the show’s dance vocabulary is steeped in the iconic work of Randy Skinner. The result? Pure joy. Their The Best Things Happen While You’re Dancing is dreamlike and precise, but it’s the Act II taptastic extravaganza I Love a Piano that stops the show cold…or should I say Hot! Benton’s dancerly ease and McGuire’s crisp, buoyant tapping create the kind of musical-theatre electricity audiences hope for in December. They honor Skinner’s lineage while injecting fresh life into every step.
And speaking of ensemble numbers, Snow—another of my personal from the film—receives a full-throated, all-in treatment here. The boxcar becomes a bustling world of anticipation and winter wonder, and the cast–in particular Richard Daniel as The Snoring Man–leans into every comedic beat and harmonic swell. It’s impossible not to smile.
In comedic and heartwarming supporting turns, Megan Murphy Chambers (Martha) once again proves she can steal an act with one number. Her Let Me Sing and I’m Happy blends powerhouse vocals with effortless comedic bite—she lands every quip, every side-eye, and every belted high note with the precision of a seasoned pro. Belting lyrics like “if my song can start you laughin’/can start you cryin'”with humor and heart, rest assured MMC can and does! Chambers is a jewel in the crown of area theatre folk. She’s an entertainer’s entertainer. Equally at ease whether tasked with comedy or sincerity. Her scenes with Curtis Denham‘s General Waverly check all the marks perfectly hitting the highs of broad comedy and the more subtle genuine moments between two longtime friends. Speaking of, Curtis Denham brings a grounded gravitas to General Waverly, avoiding caricature and instead offering a touching
portrait of a leader rediscovering purpose. Rounding out the primary cast is young Frankie Lou Lauderdale, who simply charms instantly as Susan (Preslee Siebert also plays Susan at some performances). Lauderdale delivers the pint-sized earnestness gives the storyline its heart. I’ve always found it interesting that in the original film, Susan is General Waverly’s adult granddaughter, but for the stage adaptation, Susan is presented as a young girl. I does indeed add a more family-oriented dynamic and Lauderdale’s Susan provides the right amount of youthful sweetness combined with moxie, as proven in her cheer-inducing ambitious rendition of Let Me Sing and I’m Happy.
As for the rest of the cast, the bench is equally deep: the aforementioned Richard Daniel’s more prominent role, Ezekiel will surely cause audience members to mimic his “AyYup” response throughout the holiday season. Douglas Waterbury-Tieman doubling as Mike McNulty and Ralph Sheldrake showcase his ease with frenzy and calm, respectively. Rita and Rhoda, the zesty pair of chorus girls continually vying for attention from Benton’s Phil, are played to the coquettish hilt courtesy of Anna Claire Perry and Maria Logan–charmed, I’m sure, INDEED!

The ensemble—Kelsey Brodeur, Allison Little, Christine Toole, Alex Dee, Jordan Long, Isaiah Mayhew, and David Benjamin Perry—executes Benton’s and McGuire’s choreography with dazzling precision, tapping, swirling, and harmonizing through the show’s most technicolor moments.
Of the 2018 national tour, which featured Benton, in my review I once wrote of the show’s “glistening, gleaming, smiling, singing, happy, tapping, merry-making” energy, Studio Tenn’s White Christmas delivers all of that and more—scaled for intimacy but performed with unabashed Broadway ambition. Director Cassidy tips his hat to the timeless film, but never becomes trapped by reverence; this is a production that understands nostalgia is most magical when it feels freshly lived, not simply recreated.
By the final chorus of White Christmas, as snow drifts across Turner Theater and voices swell in perfect harmony, Studio Tenn captures the exact blend of warmth and spectacle that has made this musical a December tradition for generations.
A radiant, tap-happy holiday spectacular anchored by four outstanding leads, scene-stealing supporting turns, and choreography that honors the classic while blazing its own bright trail. As the final notes fade and the snow gently settles across the stage, Studio Tenn’s White Christmas leaves its audience warmed, smiling, and perhaps even humming an Irving Berlin tune on the walk back to the parking lot. It’s the rare production that satisfies longtime devotees of the film while welcoming newcomers into its cozy embrace—proof that nostalgia, when handled with artistry and heart, can still feel brand new. With exceptional performances, lovingly rendered design, and choreography that taps straight into holiday magic, this production is more than a seasonal outing—it’s a gift. And like all the best gifts, it lingers long after the curtain falls. As Laxton and Karlin‘s Bob and Betty suggest by song in Act 1, Count Your Blessings, and this year those blessings certainly include Studio Tenn‘s White Christmas.
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RAPID FIRE WITH BRIAN CHARLES ROONEY, GEORGE BAILEY IN NASHVILLE REP’s IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE
RAPID FIRE WITH TAMIKO ROBINSON STEELE, MARY HATCH BAILEY IN IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE
RAPID FIRE WITH JENNIFER WHITCOMB-OLIVA, CLARENCE & OTHERS IN IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE
RAPID FIRE WITH EVE PETTY, VIOLET IN IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE
RAPID FIRE WITH IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE DIRECTOR, ALICIA LARK FUSS

RAPID FIRE WITH JIANA KEVILUS, AMALIA IN SHE LOVES ME
RAPID FIRE WITH TOMMY ANGLIM, KODALY IN SHE LOVES ME
RAPID FIRE WITH KIMBERLY WOLFF, ILONA IN SHE LOVES ME
RAPID FIRE WITH SHE LOVES ME DIRECTOR, MORGAN ROBERTSON
FIRE WITH CINDERELLA STAR, VERONICA HODGSON
RAPID FIRE WITH DEBORAH SEIDEL, BARONESS VINDETTA IN CINDERELLA
RAPID FIRE WITH WANDERSON REZENDE, ANITA BATH IN CINDERELLA
RAPID FIRE 20Q WITH DIRECTOR AND CAST OF PLAYHOUSE 615’s CINDERELLA: THE FAIRYGODMOTHER OF ALL PANTOS
RAPID FIRE WITH BETH HENDERSON, JOAN WATSON IN
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RAPID FIRE WITH JEN HOUGHTON, IRENE ADLER, MRS HUDSON & OTHERS IN
RAPID FIRE WITH ELYSE DAWSON, SHERLOCK HOLMES IN 







RAPID FIRE WITH QUEENS OF HEART’s DORIS, KATHLEEN JENSEN
RAPID FIRE WITH QUEENS OF HEART’s ALICE, KATIE CAMPBELL
RAPID FIRE WITH QUEENS OF HEART’s EMILY, COURTNEY LINAM
RAPID FIRE WITH QUEENS OF HEART’s ROSE, JOY TILLEY PERRYMAN
Rapid Fire with Lucy Turner, Eleanor Vance in The Haunting of Hill House
Rapid Fire with Andrea Coleman, Mrs. Montague in The Haunting of Hill House
Rapid Fire with James David West, Dr. Montague in The Haunting of Hill House

While none of the cast truly look like their real-life counterparts, it’s not an impersonator show in Las Vegas, after all, Grace Gaddy’s Lucille Ball is, when all is said and done, a loving tribute to the iconic comedian. From her expressive eyes and impeccable comic timing to the way she embodies Lucy’s signature blend of glamour and goofiness, Gaddy gives a performance that’s joyously alive. Her physicality and facial expressions elicit hearty laughter while paying true homage to one of television’s greatest icons. My only hesitation in a giving Gaddy’s Lucilly Ball a full five star review rests on the fact that Gaddy’s choice of voice isn’t quite there. Yes, Lucille Ball’s real-life voice was quite different from her quicker, higher-pitched Lucy Ricardo voice, but Gaddy, try as she may, never quite hits the mark vocally. Of course the average Keeton audience member will easily overlook this because of Gaddy’s otherwise full-force embodiment of the iconic comedic actress. It should be noted that Gaddy’s Lucy is at her best not only when recreating a few classic I Love Lucy moments–her lip-smacking, face-pulling expressions during a quick look at Vitameatavegamin is indeed near-perfection–but also during scenes that show the rarer more vulnerable moment of the woman behind the legendary laughs.
Even though he plays the man upon whose book this play is based, Michael Welch has the benefit of playing someone most people have never seen and whose physical appearance isn’t as easily recognized as the four stars of the groundbreaking sitcom. That anonymity works to Welch’s advantage as he simply shines as Jess Oppenheimer, serving as the grounding force amid the behind-the-scenes chaos. His balance of humor and sincerity keeps the story engaging and human. His scenes between Gaddy’s Lucy and Rainwater’s Desi truly exemplify Oppenheimer’s role as both close friend and trusted collaborator in the creating of one of the world’s most beloved sitcoms.
Musically, this expanded version of the show delights with nostalgic selections that evoke memories of classic I Love Lucy episodes, including I’ll See You in C-U-B-A, Friendship, California Here I Come, and the beloved I Love Lucy theme song, complete with a bit of a did you know who wrote it spoiler and Rainwater and Gaddy singing the rarely heard lyrics. Enhancing the musical score throughout, frequent Keeton musical director Roger Hutson’s piano recordings add a lighthearted, era-appropriate touch, while Steve Love’s sound design, Brooke Sanders’ lighting, wig design by Alison Gaddy (loosen up those wigs so they look more natural and like the real-life ladies they’re styled after) and Denese René Evans’ costumes work in harmony to transport the audience straight to midcentury Hollywood. Evans’ costumes throughout are quite fun and seemingly period authentic, I do wish that Lucille’s Emmy dress was accurate, through…again, I’m just being an overzealous Lucy fan.
In spite of my above-reference initial hesitations and a strangely tepid Opening Night audience (Note: it’s ok to laugh out loud and to applaud after a particularly entertaining scene) and what could probably be chalked up to first night jitters from the cast resulting in the majority of Act 1’s delivery being a tad flat with several lines coming across as monotone with not real inflection and somewhat memorized, rather than convincingly felt and delivered with punch, those initial hesitations faded once the cast found their groove. 
Jay Sullivan is chilling as Count Dracula. He doesn’t simply linger
Opposite him, Sullivan’s performances is beautifully balanced by Brian Webb Russell who gives a gravely controlled performance as Abram Van Helsing, anchoring the heroic opposition with clarity of intent and moral weight. Russell’s Van Helsing offers the perfect amount of sharp intellect and righteous urgency. His verbal sparring with Sullivan’s Dracula are electric—two forces circling each other in a battle of will and belief.
The trio of Lane Adam Williamson’s Renfield, DéYonté Jenkins’ Norbert Briggs and Catherine Gray’s Margaret Sullivan are tasked with carrying a bit of dark humor that helps temper the heavy suspense.
Then there’s Logan’s costumes. Every costume a work of art. The female cast members regal and radiant in finery fitting the period of the action. Van Helsing’s leather wardrobe, perfectly fitting for battle. Renfield’s asylum attire tattered and torn, but with a hit of glamour by way of some blinged-out blood spots. But it’s Dracula’s wardrobe that is truly glamorous and entrancing. From his first appearance bare-chested, but corseted in black to a black jacket accented with blood-red beaded erratic epaulets when he returns from a mysterious night right. (Gotta love that this particular look gets no mention within the context of the play, but is a jarring visual clue to the most astute audience member). The beauty of that costume not without merit, my personal favorite is yet another black jacket and pants combination. The jacket, from one side appears nothing special as the hem hits just below the actor’s waist, but from front view, its asymmetrical as the other side is more the length of a morning coat. Perhaps another visual clue of the duality of the wearer? Just when you think Logan’s used up his bag of costume tricks, in the final scene Dracula appears the most sparkly transfixing figure yet, but I’ll let you experience that on your own.
What impresses most about this DRACULA is how it leans into its horror while refusing sentimentality. McNulty’s choice to portray Dracula as predator (not tortured romantic) is honored here. That clarity gives other elements room to breathe: the trauma of Lucy’s affliction, Mina’s struggle with memory and agency, Van Helsing’s moral burden, Seward’s scientific disbelief challenged by the impossible.