There is a moment early in Water for Elephants when the ensemble begins swaying in synchronized rhythm, bodies rocking side to side as if connected by an invisible thread, and suddenly the audience is no longer sitting inside Jackson Hall at Tennessee Performing Arts Center — we are barreling across America with the Benzini Brothers Circus. It is one of the production’s most inspired visual motifs, a kind of train-ography, if you will, that becomes the pulse of the entire evening. Through movement alone, the cast conjures locomotives, instability, exhaustion, hope, and the restless momentum of Depression-era survival. Simple? Seemingly so. But in execution, it is theatrical magic.
Now playing Music City through Sunday, May 17, the National Tour of Water for Elephants delivers spectacle without drowning in it. Rather than relying solely on oversized circus gimmickry, the production trusts movement, music, lighting, lush storytelling and deeply committed performances to transport audiences into its world. The result is a stirring, emotionally textured theatrical experience that balances intimacy with astonishing visual ambition.
At the center of the production is Zachary Keller as Jacob Jankowski, the grieving veterinary student who impulsively abandons his former life and jumps aboard the Benzini train. Keller anchors the production with a grounded sincerity and a soaring vocal performance that gives emotional weight to Jacob’s internal struggle between safety and risk, logic and passion. His voice carries a warm ache throughout the evening, particularly in moments when Jacob wrestles with the moral compromises surrounding the circus and his growing connection to Marlena. There are moments within Keller’s performance that the entire audience falls in love with his Jacob. Heck, there are moments his near-perfect pitch vocals fill the venue so melodically that you even wonder if he needs a mic. A true testament to his skills and those of the show’s sound designer Walter Trarbach and the entire technical team.
In the role of Jacob’s older self, Mr. Jankowski is Robert Tully. Fittingly, Tully’s show bio reveals among his many theatre credits, he actually served as Ringmaster for Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey circus, making his narrative duties all the more authentic as he regales Jacob’s time riding the rails as a circus roustabout.
Opposite Keller (and Tully), Helen Krushinski delivers a luminous performance as Marlena, the circus star trapped inside an increasingly dangerous marriage. Krushinski possesses the kind of voice that cuts cleanly through the orchestrations without ever losing emotional nuance. She brings both fragility and fierce determination to Marlena, avoiding cliché and instead presenting a woman desperately searching for dignity and freedom amid chaos. Like so many of her ensemble cast mates, Krushinski also demonstrates a bit of impressive arial skills, adding a literal and figurative extra layer to her performance.
Then there is Connor Sullivan as August, whose volatile presence practically crackles across the stage. Sullivan’s vocals are thunderous and commanding, but it is the unpredictability simmering beneath every line that makes the performance so riveting. He creates a genuinely unsettling antagonist — charming one second, terrifying the next — while still revealing enough humanity to keep the character from becoming cartoonish. Without having checked out the playbill prior to attending Nashville’s Opening Night performance, the second Sullivan entered the stage, I recognized him immediately. No doubt theatre fans across the country have done the same, given Sullivan joined Water for Elephants not long after his previous gig as Billy Flynn in last year’s National Tour of Chicago came to an end.
Together, Keller, Krushinski, and Sullivan form a powerhouse central trio whose vocals elevate the production far beyond spectacle alone. Their emotional authenticity keeps the audience invested even as acrobats fly overhead and circus acts unfold around them.
The same can be said for the modern-day interludes in which Tully’s Mr. Jankowski shares tales of his younger self with Krushinski and Sullivan–in present-days scenes playing circus workers June and Charlie. The respect, admiration and care with which Krushinski’s June and Sullivan’s Charlie attentively listen to Tully’s Mr. Jankowski as he relives the glory days and heartaches of his former life serves as a reminder to us all that our elders have incredible stories to be listened to and learned from. We just have to take the time and make the effort to hear them.
While the score of Water for Elephants falls into the category of musicals that are quite effective in the moment, but for the most part, unless you’re a die-hard devotee of the show, you’re likely not going to add it to your daily playlist, several musical numbers land with exceptional force. “Anywhere” becomes an emotional turning point for Jacob and Marlena, with Keller and Krushinski blending their vocals beautifully while revealing the aching vulnerability beneath their growing connection. Meanwhile, August’s explosive numbers pulse with danger and desperation, allowing Sullivan to unleash the full power of his commanding voice and increasingly fractured psyche. The company-wide numbers prove equally affective, particularly those involving the traveling circus ensemble, where choreography, percussion-like movement, and the now-signature train-ography fuse together into thrilling theatrical momentum. Rather than pausing the story for songs, the score continuously propels the narrative forward like the locomotive at its center. The harmonies of the entire company singing in unison is simply quite spectacular.
Special recognition also belongs to John Neurohr, who stepped into the role of Walter, the knife-throwing clown, for Nashville’s Opening Night performance. Neurohr brought an endearing warmth and understated melancholy to the role, grounding Walter’s eccentricity with genuine heart. His stage presence blended seamlessly into the production’s emotional fabric, while his physicality and comic timing added welcome texture to several ensemble-driven moments throughout the evening.
And yes — the aerial and acrobatic work is extraordinary. This production understands that circus artistry should not simply interrupt the narrative; it should become the narrative. Silks, balancing acts, lifts, and gravity-defying choreography emerge organically from the emotional life of the story. The transitions feel seamless rather than showy for the sake of applause. From the jump, as the circus ‘crew’ is setting up shop at their latest stop, even the pounding of the tent-stakes into the ground and the raising of the tent becomes a cadenced ballet of movement, acrobatics and mind-boggling balance and strength. This elegance of motion and bodily discipline becomes another character throughout.
Particular praise belongs to Yves Artières, whose physical performance as Silver Star, Marlena’s beloved show horse, becomes one of the evening’s unexpected emotional centerpieces. Through movement alone, Artières creates personality, loyalty, exhaustion, and tenderness in a way that feels almost impossibly expressive. In a key scene when Silver Star reaches his untimely end, the visual of his spirit leaving his body, by way of Artières ascending silks hanging from the rafters above the stage, then dramatically unfurling the silks as he descends to return to the earth–simply breathtakingly beautiful. The puppetry/animal work throughout the production is remarkably inventive, but Silver Star’s presence lingers long after curtain call.
As Silver Star evokes emotion, Gabriela Diaz as Agnes, the orangutan elicits laughter while Kayden Woodridge‘s puppetry as Rex, the lion evokes fear.
That artistry that extends beautifully into the production’s remarkable puppetry design is most notably witnessed in Rosie, the titular pachyderm herself. Even before Rosie makes her official entrance, her presence looms larger than life throughout the narrative — a symbol of hope, survival, and emotional connection for nearly every character onstage. When she finally appears, the effect is genuinely awe-inspiring. Brought to life by on Opening Night in Nashville by Ella Huestis, Chris Marth, Bradley Parrish, Andrew Meier, and Carl Robinett, Rosie is far more than a puppet; she becomes a fully realized emotional force within the story. The coordination and grace required by the performers is staggering, yet the mechanics disappear almost instantly, allowing audiences to emotionally invest in the elephant herself. It is a masterclass in collaborative physical storytelling. Not since Dumbo or Mr. Snuffleupagus has a pachy won over an entire audience by simply walking across the stage.
Ruby Gibbs‘ Barbara, while employed as the circus’ somewhat bawdy leading lady, reveals a softer side where Jacob is concerned. Javier Garcia‘s Camel, a drink-swilling roustabout veteran, who takes Jacob under his wing, becomes a bit of a father-figure to newbie. Both of these actors endear themselves to the audience with their abilities.
The entire company, whether lead actors, featured supporting cast or the incredibly gifted high-flyers, tumblers, acrobats, jugglers–just like a real circus troupe–it’s the entire company, and the individual skills they bring, that make up the full multitude of experiences for a night of incredible joy and entertainment overload. Seriously, this ensemble is nothing short of phenomenal. Whether transforming into roustabouts, circus performers, fellow travelers, or performing animals, the company operates with astonishing precision and energy. Their physical storytelling becomes a vital connective tissue of the production, especially during those unforgettable rail-travel sequences where synchronized motion and rhythmic choreography create the sensation of perpetual movement.
Equally effective is the production’s restraint in its technical design. Rather than constructing an oversized literal circus environment, the creative team leans into minimalism with confidence. Scenic elements remain spare and fluid, allowing the actors and movement to define the environment. That simplicity makes the production’s biggest visual moments land even harder.
Most impressive is the staging of the circus tent itself. Instead of unveiling some predictable red-and-white striped spectacle, the production opts for a hauntingly beautiful sheer grey canopy that rises overhead and transforms through lighting into the shadowed suggestion of a massive big top. It is elegant, dreamlike, and emotionally evocative — less interested in realism than memory. The choice perfectly reflects the production’s overall artistic philosophy: suggest rather than overwhelm.
The lighting design deserves enormous credit for shaping the show’s emotional landscape. Warm ambers, smoky blues, and stark silhouettes constantly shift the atmosphere from romance to danger to wonder. Combined with a richly textured sound design that captures both the intimacy of whispered confessions and the thunder of circus chaos, the technical package immerses the audience completely without ever feeling excessive.
What makes Water for Elephants resonate so deeply is that beneath all its acrobatics and visual invention lies a profoundly human story about survival, reinvention, and finding family in unexpected places. This touring production never loses sight of that heart. By the time the company takes its final bow, audiences are likely to feel exactly like Jacob himself: changed by the journey…and excitedly anticipating what life has in store next.
Water for Elephants at TPAC is not merely a musical. It is a moving act of theatrical imagination — one that races forward with the force of a locomotive while never forgetting the fragile souls riding inside it and their ultimate purpose of bringing a little joy wherever the rails, the circus and their lives take them.
Water for Elephants continues it’s tour-stop in Nashville at TPAC’s Jackson Hall with performances thru Sunday, May 17. CLICK HERE for tickets or more information. After its Nashville dates, Water for Elephants continues its National Tour with stops in Hartford, CT June 2-7, Columbus, OH June 9-14, Madison, WI June 16-21, Chicago, IL June 23-July 5 and many more cities across North America through May of next year! CLICK HERE for the full schedule of remaining tour dates. Check out Water for Elephants online HERE and on Insta, Facebook, X, TikTok and YouTube for more.
Following Water for Elephants, the current Broadway at TPAC season continues with the return of two favorites. First Book of Mormon returns to Music City with performances June 2-7 followed by Hamilton June 17-28. You can also follow TPAC on socials: TPAC on Instagram, X, YouTube and Facebook.
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Opposite him, Grammy nominee Mykal Kilgore delivers a mesmerizing Judas. From the opening notes of “Heaven on Their Minds,” Kilgore refuses to portray Judas as a simple villain. Instead, his Judas feels conflicted, frightened, frustrated, and heartbreakingly human as he watches events spiral beyond anyone’s control. His powerhouse vocals soar effortlessly through the score, but it is the emotional vulnerability beneath the performance that lingers longest.
As Mary Magdalene, powerhouse vocalist Olivia Valli comes by her talents naturally. Granddaughter of The Four Season‘s founding member Fankie Valli, she’s a legacy entertainer. As Mary Magdalene, Valli brings warmth and aching sincerity to the role. Early on During “Everything’s Alright,” Valli’s calming presence provides a needed emotional balance amid the increasingly chaotic atmosphere surrounding Jesus. Soon after, her rendition of “I Don’t Know How to Love Him” avoids unnecessary theatrics in favor of emotional honesty, allowing the heartbreak within the song to quietly unfold. Under Cassidy’s direction, Valli explores the often-avoided attraction between Mary the woman and Jesus the man, once again offering yet another layer to the humanity of the piece.
As Pontius Pilate, Geoffrey Davin offers one of the evening’s smartest tonal shifts . Presented as a gaudy, self-important joke of a man sporting an intentionally terrible hairpiece (kudos to the show’s wig designer Meredith Schieltz for just simply going for it), Davin leans fully into the absurdity of performative power. The portrayal initially earns plenty of laughs, but underneath the comedy lies another sharp reflection of the production’s larger themes—people desperate to appear more important than they truly are. His “Pilate’s Dream” balances nervous humor with growing dread, while sinisterly daunting presence during “Trial Before Pilate/39 Lashes” becomes genuinely unsettling.
W. Scott Stewart’s thunderous bass vocals as Caiaphas roll in like a deep fog, brilliantly setting the stage for the dread and darkness to come. Robert Parker Jenkins‘ Annas perfectly snarky glances peering over those disturbingly small, dark glasses, brings an unspoken self-righteousness to his role as a high priest. As other members of Caiaphas’ doom squad, Garris Wimmer‘s sinister voice and Jennifer Whitcomb-Oliva‘s snide presence all come together perfectly to present a united and terrifying quartet who initiate the plot to end Jesus.
Then there’s the most intriguing of Whitcomb-Oliva’s multiple roles, her dazzlingly, gloriously commanding presence as King Herod. Landing somewhere firmly between Tina Turner’s Auntie Entity from Mad Max: Beyond the Thunderdome and Elton John’s Pinball Wizard from yet another rock opera, Tommy, Whitcomb-Oliva’s Herod is the true definition of the villainous character we know we’re not supposed to love, but we just can’t help ourselves. Combine the stage presence and spectacular wardrobe with Whitcomb-Oliva’s undeniable talents and you’ve got yourself a show-stopping performance and another of Studio Tenn‘s Jesus Christ Superstar‘s truly magical cast members. There is no role this mega-watt talented performer can’t handle and she proves it show after show after show.
Other ensemble members like Bakari King, Garris Wimmer, Maya Antoinette Riley, Matthew Hayes Hunter, Savannah Stein, Lane Adam Williamson, Victoria Griffin, Emma Rose Williamson, Connor Adair, Nikki Berra, Christina Ledbetter and Patrick Jones each contribute to the overall energy, emotion and beauty of the piece. From the full ensemble Act 1 favorite, “What’s the Buzz’ to a shining, glittering all-in late-hour moment, the entire cast brings everything they’ve got, resulting in a feast for the eyes, the mind, the heart and soul. 
Likewise, Joi Ware’s choreography injects continuous movement and urgency into the production. There are moments where subtle Bob Fosse-inspired isolations seem to collide with flashes of Michael Jackson-inspired movement during larger ensemble sequences, creating choreography that feels simultaneously nostalgic and contemporary. Even those ensemble moments reinforce the power-in-numbers juxtaposed to the isolation of one theme found throughout the piece. Coupled with Cassidy’s direction, Ware’s choreography fills the stage with passionate movement, whether the entire company is on stage for a group number, or the action slows for a solitary moment from Pascal, Kilgore or Valli.
Leading this beautifully doomed endeavor is Joshua Mertz as Chris, the director/star/producer/everything-else of the show-within-the-show. Mertz plays Chris with just the right mix of puffed-up authority and slow-burn panic. As The Inspector within the mystery, watching him try to maintain control as things unravel faster than a cheap sweater is half the fun—and when he finally snaps, it’s worth the wait. Mertz, in his sixth show at The Keeton is proving himself to be a valuable asset the the company.
Aaron Gray’s Robert is the kind of community theatre actor who clearly believes he’s performing in Masterpiece Theatre, even as the world collapses around him. The fact that Gray is in or involved with nearly every Keeton production somehow added a if you know you know aspect to his role as Robert. As Thomas Collymoore, his dead-serious commitment in the face of utter nonsense makes every moment land harder, especially as the physical comedy ramps up and refuses to let him off easy. Kudos to his library scene. While the Keeton stage area does limit the intensity of the prospect of the second floor of the set completely collapsing, Gray’s physicality while keeping himself and all the props around his from falling away as the floor beneath him gives way, is gasping, belly-laughing joy to behold.
Keeton newcomer, Connor Boggs is tasked with the key role of Max. Initially cast in another role, Boggs stepped into the role of Max after the original actor had to drop out of the show. As Max and his mystery counterpart, Cecil, he figures out very early on that subtlety is overrated. Within the supposed seriousness of the murder mystery, for Cecil, once he gets a taste of audience laughter, it’s game over. He milks every moment for all it’s worth, turning even the smallest slip into a full-blown bit. That said, dressed in wardrobe that can only be described as a technicolor travesty—yes, the character is typically a bit of a dandy, but not quite so…flamboyant. Usually played as an overly confident community theatre actor with at least an initial modicum of subtlety, Bogg’s Cecil starts at 100mph and never slows down doing everything short of cartwheels from his stage entrance right on through to the final curtain. Under the direction of Bailey, Bogg’s Cecil is amped up and definitely played for laughs so much so that it runs the risk on a SNL skit that just doesn’t know when to
demanding physical comedy without ever dropping character. In one scene in particular, she’s pulled and flopped around by her cast mates as if her joins are made of bendy straws. Her physicality is slapstick at its best.
Wanderson Rezende’s Trevor Watson, stationed at the tech booth, proves that sometimes less is more. His distracted, couldn’t-care-less approach to running the show results in some of the night’s most perfectly timed “mistakes,” and when he’s finally dragged into the action, it’s awkward brilliance. And yes, Denese Rene’ Evans (the show’s costumer) I did indeed appreciate that Trevor is sporting a Duran Duran t-shirt! 
name, by the way), tasked with playing a corpse who…isn’t exactly great at the whole “lying still” thing. Fonville’s physical comedy—mistimed reactions, missed cues, and all—adds an extra layer of delightful absurdity to a role that could just be…well, dead.
Bottom line, if you like your theatre polished, pristine, and predictable…this ain’t it. But if you’re in the mood to laugh until your face hurts while watching a cast absolutely commit to the bit—even as the set tries to take them out—The Play That Goes Wrong at The Keeton is exactly the kind of beautifully disastrous night out you’re looking for. Just don’t expect anything to go right, because…Where’s the fun in that?
One notable change is the role of Sweet Sue, bandleader of the all-girl band that serves as the perfect hiding in plain site destination for our two unintentional leading men, or should I say leading ladies? Little more than a brief appearance in the source material, Ruffin and Lopez wisely fleshed out Sweet Sue and as played by DeQuina Moore, we’re glad they did. Moore’s Sweet Sue doesn’t just open the show—she detonates it. Her “What Are You Thirsty For?” lands with the kind of electrifying force she herself described in our recent 
Leandra Ellis-Gaston’s Sugar Kane arguably comes with the steepest climb. Not because of the technical demands—though those are certainly present—but because Marilyn Monroe’s original Sugar remains so indelibly iconic. Wisely, the creators of the stage adaptation “understood the assignment,” sidestepping imitation entirely. By reimagining Sugar as a strong-willed, career-driven woman of color, the role becomes instantly unshackled from direct comparison—and Ellis-Gaston runs with it. With a speaking voice that lands somewhere between The Color Purple’s Squeak and legendary chanteuse Lena Horne, her Sugar is equal parts vulnerability and resolve. Sweet? Absolutely. But never simple.
As G-man Mulligan, Matt Allen plays the essential “straight man” with surgical precision, anchoring the show’s more outlandish antics while quietly setting up some of its biggest payoffs. As he said in our recent Rapid Fire 20Q, that role is not only necessary but foundational in launching the show’s farcical momentum. And when he finally gets to dip into the madness—particularly in that delightfully ridiculous undercover sequence—it’s a payoff worth the wait.
Minnie, Sweet Sue’s right-hand woman is revealed throughout as a bit of a sticky-fingered gal. One of the show’s running gags is her revelations of accidentally entering the wrong apartments thinking they were Sue’s and taking things that weren’t hers. To that end it makes perfect sense that Devon Hadsell’s Minnie is a scene-stealing delight, leaning fully into the character’s charming chaos and absconding with laughs each time she’s on the stage. There’s a lived-in sense of loyalty and mischief here, making Minnie far more than just comic relief. She’s an essential part of the heartbeat of the band. And that ever-present cigarette dangling from her ruby red lips, the kind of subtle sight gag that again perfectly pays homage to that 1930 prohibition-era Hollywood spirit. Side Note: When that Gregg Oppenheimer I Love Lucy play makes its way to Broadway, Hadsell has my vote for the Vivian Vance/Ethel Mertz role!
And then there’s Edward Juvier’s Osgood, who may just be the show’s most quietly radical reinvention. As he shared in our recent Rapid Fire 20Q, what drew him to the role was Osgood’s ability to lead with curiosity rather than judgment—and that ethos radiates throughout his performance. Where the film played him as the punchline, this version is in on the joke and, more importantly, in on the love. That shift—from caricature to fully realized romantic—becomes one of the production’s most meaningful evolutions.
Then there’s Doc. David Josefsberg’s take on the eccentric inventor is where the show truly locks into place. Wonderfully unhinged in the best way, his Doc balances manic comedy with genuine heart. His early numbers are the turning point where the audience collectively leans in and says, “Okay, I’m in.” Josefsberg doesn’t imitate—he reinvents, while still honoring what makes Doc such an iconic character.
And then there’s Cartreze Tucker as Goldie Wilson (and Marvin Berry), who nearly steals the entire show. From the moment he steps onstage, Tucker commands attention. His big number earns one of the largest audience responses of the night, and for good reason—his vocals are powerhouse-level, and his charisma is off the charts. It’s a star-making turn that injects an extra jolt of electricity into an already high-energy production.
Visually, the production is stunning. The use of projections, layered with practical effects and good old-fashioned stage magic and some mind-blowing state-of-the-art new theatrical tricks, the effects become a character in its own right. Whether it’s the clock tower sequence or the time-travel effects, the technical execution is nothing short of jaw-dropping. It’s the kind of design work that reminds you how thrilling live theatre can be when all the elements are firing.
Act Two does bring one of the more head-scratching moments in the show—a neon-soaked, new wave-inspired “21st Century” opening number featuring Doc and a troupe of backup dancers. It’s flashy and fun, but also feels a bit unnecessary and tonally out of sync with the rest of the piece. And on opening night in Nashville, it was followed by a rare hiccup: the hoverboard didn’t quite cooperate. Still, the moment was handled with total professionalism, and honestly, it was quickly forgiven given the sheer volume of technical wizardry the show gets right. Because when it works—and it mostly does—it really works.
From the opening strains of the period-perfect ragtime-syncopated “Let Mother Vote,” maternally led by Mary Grandy‘s Carrie Chapman Catt and backed by a vocally powerful ensemble, Suffs makes it clear: this isn’t a museum piece. It’s a movement. The storytelling feels urgent, strong, and emotionally immediate—never preachy, always human.
As Ida B. Wells, Danyel Fulton commands attention with moral clarity, emotional precision and powerhouse vocals to rival a certain recent Broadway Gypsy. “Wait My Turn” simmers with justified frustration, and when she returns in “I Was Here,” alongside Mary Church Terrell (Trisha Jeffrey) and Phyllis Terrell (Victoria Pekel), the moment lands as a declaration of presence that resonates well beyond the period setting. Speaking of Fulton’s co-stars, Jeffrey brings elegance and resolve to Mary Church Terrell, particularly in “Hold It Together,” serving as an emotional anchor amid political fractures. Meanwhile, Pekel’s Phyllis as well as a later turn as Robin, reinforce the vitality of youthful exuberance necessary for any movement to continue into the next generation. Whenever any of these three talented performers are on stage, the audience is mesmerized and treated to stunning vocals.
Monica Tulia Ramirez’s Inez Milholland radiates charisma in “The March (We Demand Equality),” which she leads alongside Fulton’s Ida and the ensemble in one of the production’s most visually arresting sequences. Act I’s “Show Them Who You Are” showcases Ramirez’s sass while Act II’s reprise flips the script to haunting results. Milholland’s personal life and sacrifices poignantly reveal the true dedication these powerful, but often unsung heroes of the moment possessed.
Laura Stracko‘s Alva Belmont is boisterously brilliant. Gotta love a socialist socialite. Act I’s “Alva Belmont” introduces the character in a big way. With another period-nod, “Alva Belmont” is presented as a toe-tappin’ Tin Pan Alley-style ditty complete with playful, yet pointed lyrics: “I divorced my husband for philandering. Now I’ve got his millions for philanthropy.” Flawlessly introducing the character. Interestingly, while not really relevant to the plot, I discovered while researching to interview some of the cast that the real Alva Belmont, a native of Alabama, has ties-by-association to Tennessee. Her maternal grandfather, Robert Desha was a U.S. House of Representatives for the state of Tennessee. In the years before her political activism, she was first married to William Kissam Vanderbilt, the grandson of Commodore Cornelius Vanderbilt (for whom Nashville’s Vanderbilt University was named).
As President Woodrow Wilson, Jenny Ashman offers a sharply drawn portrayal. “Ladies” drips with calculated condescension (and sadly echoes a little too closely our current administration’s views on the arguably stronger sex, but I digress). Later in the show, Ashman’s Wilson attemps to placate with “Let Mother Vote (reprise)”, which lands with pointed irony. On Opening Night in Nashville, Ariana Burks stepped into the role of President Wilson’s Third Assistant Secretary of State Dudley Malone, a role usually played by Brandi Portert. Covering the role, Burks shines in “Respectfully Yours, Dudley Malone,” blending romantic sincerity with political awakening. Her chemistry with Marcus’ Doris in “If We Were Married” and its reprise adds warmth and texture to the broader narrative. Just one of a handful of relationships, while not at the center of the narrative, a wonderful aside. Other notable personal relationships alluded to within Suffs include sorority sisters Ida B. Wells and Mary Church Terrell, friends Alice Paul and Lucy Burns and longtime partners Carrie Chapman Catt and Mollie Hay.
As Juicy, this retelling’s Hamlet, Julian “Joolz” Stroop delivers a performance that is instantly mesmerizing. Dressed in black, but with flare that lets us know they’re their own person deep down, Stroop’s Juicy is a stark contrast to the bright, bustling energy around them, Stroop embodies what it means to feel different within your own family. Their Juicy is wickedly sarcastic, deeply unsure of themself, yet painfully self-aware. Where Shakespeare’s Hamlet spirals toward destruction, Juicy wrestles with whether violence is the only inheritance available. Stroop captures the tension between rage and restraint with remarkable control. You can see the weight of expectation pressing in—the desire to prove themself to a father who was cruel in life and demanding in death. Stroop’s performance reflects the universal burden of feeling unseen, and when ultimately questioning the necessity of revenge, it lands with emotional clarity. Whether performing a telling karaoke number at the BBQ, sharing a laugh with friends, a more intimate moment with a lifelong crush or tense scenes with parental figures, Stroop steps up and shows out in a memorable Nashville Rep debut performance.
Tamiko Robinson Steele’s Tedra, the Queen Gertrude counterpart, is a sheer joy to behold from her first entrance on. She exudes sensual confidence and the unapologetic energy of a woman determined to find happiness on her own terms. One of my longtime favorite regional actresses, Robinson Steele masterfully reveals the emotional compromises beneath that surface. Like Gertrude, Tedra aligns herself with the new man quickly—but here, the choice feels rooted in survival and stability rather than simple obliviousness. Robinson Steele balances humor and depth beautifully, embodying a mother navigating grief, desire, and the societal pressures that center men in her world. And did I spot a bit of gold in that megawatt smile? A fun nod to Queen Gertrude and Tedra’s own status at the Queen of her castle. Nice touch.
As Larry, the Laertes counterpart, Michael A. McAllister-Spurgeon initially leans into bravado and expected masculinity. But as the story unfolds, he allows vulnerability to seep through the cracks. Like Laertes, Larry is poised to embrace retaliation—but McAllister-Spurgeon reveals the insecurity driving that impulse. His performance underscores how young men inherit scripts of aggression without ever being asked whether they want them. The nuance he brings elevates Larry from stereotype to fully realized human being. And that finale reveal….YAAAAAAS!
Persephone Felder-Fentress steps into a gender-switched Polonius role as Rabby, Larry and Opal’s mother, with sharp comedic precision. While Shakespeare’s Polonius is verbose and meddlesome, Rabby feels more direct and grounded. Felder-Fentress handles the humor effortlessly, but she also brings a relatable maternal complexity to the role. You know that female relative who always pinched your cheeks as a kid and inevitable asks “when are you getting yourself a girlfriend?” That’s Felder-Fentress’ Rabby. The dynamic between Rabby, Larry, and Opal textbook good christian family facade masking those things we don’t talk about beneath the surface. Y’all, during Rev’s pre-feast prayer, when I noticed Felder-Fentress’s Rabby clicking her bejeweled heels together in prayerful agreement to each thing Rev mentioned, I knew I longed for an invitation to the cookout!
Rounding out the players is Gerold Oliver’s Tio, the Horatio character. Though his stage-time is limited, he is a delight as usual. His comedic timing, pulled facial expressions and overall demeanor a joy to watch. Yet Oliver ensures Tio is more than comic relief. In a climactic, albeit alter-state-induced monologue that begins like a muchie-fueled rambling, but soon climaxes into something unexpectedly profound. Oliver lands the humor and the wisdom with equal finesse as Tio reminds the audience of the play’s core truth: “Far as we know, we are in the only place in the cosmos that welcomes our particular brand of life. Why waste it trying to be miserable cause it’s gonna make somebody else happy?”
Amber Whatley’s lighting brilliantly shifts from warm afternoon glow to something cooler and more spectral when Pap’s ghost appears, then changing throughout from the familiarity of a family gather to the intensity of truths revealed. Nivedhan Singh’s sound design underscores both the humor and the haunting without overwhelming the text and lifting the mood when called for.
s Edward Bloom, Micheal Walley bursts onto the stage with charisma and conviction. From his first entrance, his speech pattern and delivery lands near Mark Twain’s distinctive Southern storytelling drawl — deliberate, charming, measured — and for some reason put me in mind of French Stewart’s Harry Solomon from “Third Rock from the Sun”, quick with an unexpected sarcastic bite. The blend gives Edward both homespun authenticity and razor-edged comedic timing, a balance that keeps the character from drifting into caricature. The subtle but effective vocal change between younger Edward to his more frail self in later years is quite interesting to take in.
Choreographer Andrea Campbell, working in clear collaboration with director Aaron Gray, makes masterful use of The Keeton’s intimate stage. With a cast of twenty, filling the space without overwhelming it is no small feat, yet the production never once feels crowded. Instead, it feels alive. From kick lines to tap and everything in between, the variety of choreography reflects the musical’s tonal shifts while showcasing the ensemble’s versatility. One can only imagine the rigor of rehearsals required to master such range within spatial constraints, and the ensemble rises to the challenge with precision and enthusiasm. Director Gray deserves equal praise for staging that maximizes every inch of the performance area, creating dynamic stage pictures that feel expansive, an appropriate nod to the story’s 2003 cinematic retelling courtesy Tim Burton‘s film adaptation, despite the venue’s modest footprint.
Jacob Hinnen as Edward’s adult son, delivers a fully believable, emotionally grounded portrayal of Will Bloom. Hinnen never pushes for sympathy; instead, he allows Will’s frustration and skepticism to emerge organically. The result is authenticity. As Will prepares to become a father himself, the shift in perspective is subtle yet powerful. You believe him — every step of the way.
Emma Elizabeth Smith (Catherine of Aragon) steps forward first with “No Way”, clad in commanding yellow and gold with accents of black—a direct references to her Spanish roots, the wealth of the Spanish crown, and the opulence of the Catholic Church. The regal palette reinforces Catherine’s authority as the original Queen, while the structured corset and bold detailing give visual weight to her refusal to be dismissed. As Smith belts “I’m not sorry for my honesty,” the look radiates righteousness and resolve.
There’s an interesting shift in tone with Alizé Cruz (Katherine Howard) and “All You Wanna Do”. Her pink-and-black costume reflects youthful vitality layered with looming danger—the sweetness of pink undercut (no pun intended) by the severity of black. What begins flirtatious quickly curdles as the repetition of “All you wanna do, baby” exposes the song’s darker truth. As the lighting cools and the meaning sharpens, the visual contrast underscores just how trapped Howard truly is. It’s Britney‘s “Womanizer”, sing-songy and fun, but if the aggressor had access to the guillotine.
At the center is Brian Charles Rooney, who’s made quite a name for himself, not only on the local level, but for his work in New York on Broadway, is well-known for his vocal prowess as a musical theatre powerhouse. Rooney captures the full breadth of George’s life journey—from mischievous boy to wide-eyed dreamer to the exhausted, cornered adult wondering where everything went wrong. Remarkably, he accomplishes this not through drastic physical transformation but through subtle, sharply observed choices: a shift in vocal pitch, a slight change in posture, the weight of responsibility settling into the shoulders. These gradations make his downward spiral heartbreaking and his redemption cathartic. As George Bailey, it’s his sincere believability as the multi-faceted depth he brings to the stage that holds the audience’s attention from that first appearance of a man defeated to the much-loved ringing of that angelic bell signifying all is well with the world. His performance as George Bailey is nothing short of revelatory. And YES…though this production is not a musical, the audiences is indeed treated to just a bit of Rooney’s pitch-perfect multi-octave voice for a quick little verse of Buffalo Gals, the beloved tune featured in the 1946 film classic.
As Mary Hatch Bailey, Tamiko Robinson Steele radiates warmth, quiet confidence, and fierce devotion. Her Mary is not simply the supportive spouse—she’s the emotional compass of the story, grounding George even when he’s flailing hardest. Steele’s effortless sincerity elevates every scene she touches. From their scenes depicting George and Mary’s childhood friendship to their teenage flirtation, Steele’s sweet embodiment of Mary is palpable. The scene at the drugstore soda fountain when Mary leans over to George and whispers in his bad ear her devotion, I couldn’t help but have a little eye sweat. With Steele in the role, it’s no wonder George offers Mary the moon.
Among the remaining ensemble are Eric D. Pasto Crosby, who is first seen in a brief appearance as Mr. Bailey and a little more stage time as Nick the barkeep (question…did they really have Sports Bars called as such in the 1940s? It’s rhetorical. Sports Bars weren’t a thing until the 1960s, thus my only complaint about the set, for when Clarences shows George what life would have been like had he not been born, they visit the bar formerly owned by Martini, now emblazoned with a mirror-etched sign reading Nick’s Sports Bar). Aleia Eagleton and Darci Nalepa Elam appear throughout portraying various townspeople. Among their standout turns, Elam’s Ma Bailey is motherly perfection while her Tilley is flirty and fun. Then there’s the small in stature, but big in energetic presence of Eagleton as she is fabulously convincing and utterly enjoyable in the tiny, but pivotal role of Zuzu.