When Ain’t Misbehavin’ first arrived on Broadway in 1978 starring Nell Carter, Ken Page, Amelia McQueen, Charlaine Woodard and André DeShields, it introduced a new generation to the music, humor and enduring brilliance of jazz icon Thomas Wright “Fats” Waller. Nearly five decades later, Playhouse 615’s production proves these songs haven’t lost a step. Under the direction of Mitchell Vantrease and featuring Yolanda Treece, Elliott Robinson, Lisa Graham, Raven Buntyn and Isiah Rankin, this vibrant revival is equal parts concert, cabaret, history lesson and celebration, delivered by a cast that understands the assignment and then some.
Unlike a traditional book musical, Ain’t Misbehavin’ doesn’t tell Waller’s life story. Instead, it uses his catalog as a lens through which to explore romance, heartbreak, joy, humor, resilience and Black artistry. The result is a revue that feels both nostalgic and surprisingly contemporary.
One of the production’s most charming touches is its homage to the aforementioned legendary original Broadway cast. Rather than adopting character names, or using their own as is often done in regional productions, the performers are billed as playing Nell, Ken, Andre, Armelia and Charlaine, honoring the now-iconic artists who first introduced these songs to Broadway audiences.
From the moment the company launches into the title number, followed by the energetic “Lookin’ Good But Feelin’ Bad,” audiences are welcomed into Vantrease’s intimate jazz club atmosphere.
Isiah Rankin, pulling double duty behind the scenes as the show’s music director helps shape a score that feels authentic, alive and wonderfully spontaneous. Performing as Andre, Rankin brings an easygoing best-friend, wing-man energy to nearly every scene he inhabits. Whether leading the slyly playful “T Ain’t Nobody’s Biz-ness If I Do,” joining the delightfully flirtatious “How Ya Baby,” or bringing swagger to “The Viper’s Drag,” he consistently demonstrates both vocal confidence and magnetic stage presence.
Yolanda Treece, performing as Nell, emerges as one of the production’s most engaging personalities. Possessing a remarkable ability to connect with the audience through nothing more than a wink, an eye-roll or a flirtatious grin, Treece makes every moment feel personal. Her spirited rendition of “Cash for Your Trash” earns plenty of laughs, while “Mean to Me” reveals a deeper emotional vulnerability. By evening’s end, it becomes clear she knows exactly how to work a room…and we’re all better for it.
Lisa Graham’s Armelia is powered by boundless energy and a voice capable of effortlessly navigating Waller’s jazz-infused melodies. Her playful “Squeeze Me” is an Act 1 standou, while later numbers such as “Find Out What They Like”, alongside Treece showcase both her comic timing and vocal precision. Graham consistently finds fresh colors within each song, making every appearance memorable.
Raven Buntyn proves herself the show’s most versatile performer. One moment she’s the provocative, self-assured Charlaine commanding attention during “Yacht Club Swing.” The next she’s leaning into a more innocent, delightfully ditzy persona. Buntyn handles every shift seamlessly, while her heartfelt “Keepin’ Out of Mischief Now” offers one of the evening’s loveliest vocal moments.
As Ken, Elliott Robinson demonstrates remarkable ease navigating both sides of Waller’s catalog. He is equally comfortable delivering laugh-out-loud comedic lyrics as he is tackling material with deeper emotional resonance. His charming performance of “Honeysuckle Rose” helps establish the production’s playful tone early on, while “I’m Gonna Sit Right Down and Write Myself a Letter” becomes one of Act Two’s most satisfying highlights.
The ensemble numbers are where the production truly catches fire. “The Joint is Jumpin’” practically explodes off the stage, delivering exactly the kind of high-octane energy audiences hope for when attending a show built around Waller’s music. As the Act 1 closer, it leaves the audience anticipating Act 2. Likewise, “Spreadin’ Rhythm Around” and the finale “Honeysuckle Band” showcase the cast’s impressive vocal blend and infectious enthusiasm.
Comedy plays a significant role throughout the evening, and two numbers in particular generate some of the production’s biggest laughs. Robinson’s “Your Feet’s Too Big” is a crowd-pleasing delight, while “Fat and Greasy,” featuring Robinson and Rankin, gleefully breaks down the wall between performers and audience. The interactive nature of both songs perfectly complements the nightclub setting and creates some of the evening’s most memorable moments.
Yet beneath the humor and exuberance lies something far more profound. Late in the second act comes “Black and Blue,” arguably the emotional centerpiece of the entire production. Presented simply and sincerely, the number lands with considerable power. Suddenly, the playful flirtations and comic observations that precede it take on added depth and context. It serves as both reflection and reminder, honoring the experiences woven throughout Black history while underscoring the cultural significance of Waller’s artistry. The cast delivers the number with remarkable restraint and honesty, creating one of the production’s most affecting moments.
The decision to position the musicians directly onstage pays immediate dividends.
Anchoring the evening are three exceptional musicians: John Todd on piano, Rick Malkin on drums and Owen Ananich on bass. Their presence onstage transforms the production from a traditional musical into something closer to a genuine Harlem nightclub experience. The trio doesn’t merely accompany the performers—they become an integral part of the storytelling.
Vantrease’s direction remains focused throughout. Even without a traditional narrative, he ensures every song functions as a miniature story. His choreography complements rather than overwhelms the material, allowing the performers and music to remain front and center. Especially entertaining a near-exactly move-for-move homage to the original Broadway company’s piano-ography during “Handful of Keys”.
Technically, the production embraces simplicity to excellent effect. Conceived by Ann Street-Kavanagh, Craig Hartline and Vantrease, the set utilizes silver ladder-style lighting battens wrapped in string lights and draped with shimmering fabric that forms an elegant arch around the onstage band. Stage right features what appears to be a fully stocked bar accompanied by a pair of stools beneath a sign reading “Fats Club.” Though one might playfully argue the sign could use an apostrophe after the “s”—or perhaps should have been named “Club Fats”—the overall effect contributes nicely to the immersive nightclub atmosphere.
Complementing the set beautifully is Carter Stumbo’s mood-enhancing lighting design, which effortlessly shifts from playful and vibrant to intimate and reflective depending on the emotional demands of each number. Strumbo doesn’t seem to leave out a single color in the rainbow in his lighting design. Each one perfectly enhancing the mood and emotion of the song being performed.
Playhouse 615‘s Ain’t Misbehavin’ is being presented during National Black Music Month and with closing weekend coinciding with Juneteenth celebrations, Ain’t Misbehavin’ arrives at a particularly meaningful moment. More than a revue, it serves as a celebration of an artist whose influence continues to echo throughout American music.
Playhouse 615’s production succeeds because it never treats Waller’s music like museum pieces. Instead, these songs feel vibrant, immediate and alive. Powered by a terrific cast, outstanding musicians and thoughtful direction, Ain’t Misbehavin’ offers audiences exactly what its title promises: an evening of irresistible fun with plenty of heart underneath the swing.
Whether you arrive as a longtime fan of Fats Waller or simply looking for an entertaining night at the theatre, this production sends audiences home smiling, humming and perhaps even tapping their too big feet all the way to the parking lot. Not gonna lie—after all, it’s a sin to tell a lie—since attending an opening weekend performance of Playhouse 615‘s Ain’t Misbehavin’, the music of Fats Waller has been a constant on my playlist.
Ain’t Misbehavin’ runs June 5-21 at Playhouse 615 (11920 Lebanon Rd, Mt. Juliet, TN 37122) with Friday and Saturday evening performances at 7:30pm and Sunday matinees at 2:30pm. General Admission tickets are $22 for Seniors/Military and $25 for Adults. As mentioned above, there are a limited number of cocktails tables near the front of the stage adding to the nightclub atmosphere of the show. Those VIP seats are available for $35. CLICK HERE to grab your tickets.
Following Ain’t Misbehavin’, Playhouse 615‘s season continues with Agatha Christie’s The Unexpected Guest on stage July 17-August 2. CLICK HERE for ticket. For more from Playhouse 615, check out their website or follow them on Instagram and Facebook.
As always, if you wanna follow JHPEntertainment to find out who I’m chatting with for my next Rapid Fire Q&A, or for my take on the latest local and national theatre, music, arts and more, visit JHPENTERTAINMENT.com or find us on Facebook, Insta, Threads and X. Till then #GoSeeTheShow!
In case you missed it, check out our recent Rapid Fire 20Q with Ain’t Misbehavin’ director and cast.
Founded in 2010 by Drew Dir, Sarah Fornace, Julia Miller, Ben Kauffman, and Kyle Vegter–all five share co-artistic director credits–Manual Cinema has built an international reputation for pushing the boundaries of storytelling. The 4th Witch may be their most ambitious creation yet. Rather than simply retelling Macbeth from the perspective of kings, warriors, or even Shakespeare’s famous trio of witches, the production introduces audiences to a young girl whose life is forever altered by the violence occurring around her. What begins as a story unfolding in the shadows of Shakespeare’s tragedy gradually becomes a deeply human exploration of loss, survival, identity, and the choices we make when confronted with cycles of violence.
Equally deserving of recognition is the magical yet anything but witchy trio of musicians positioned in full view of the audience throughout the performance. Alicia Walter‘s vocals and keyboard work, joined by Lucy Little‘s violin and vocals and Erica Kremer‘s cello and vocals, create a lush, cinematic score that frequently serves as the emotional engine of the story. Their contributions elevate the production beyond a technical marvel into something genuinely moving, underscoring moments of wonder, danger, grief, and hope with remarkable sensitivity.
Leading the charge is Ethan Davenport, who takes on the pivotal role of Elder Price in this engagement. As Elder Price, Davenport embodies the character’s confidence, ambition and occasional arrogance with effortless charm. Blessed with a powerful Broadway tenor and an all-American leading man presence, he delivers “You and Me (But Mostly Me)” and the Act Two anthem “I Believe” with the kind of vocal confidence that anchors the entire production.
Opposite him, Jacob Aune’s Elder Cunningham is everything the role demands—awkward, lovable, wildly inappropriate and impossible not to root for. Cunningham is essentially a walking collection of half-remembered science fiction plots, social anxiety and misguided optimism & a bit of a walking, talking South Park character in human form, and Aune embraces every glorious second of it. 
Yet it’s Craige Franke as Elder McKinley where Franke truly steals scenes. His performance of “Turn It Off” is a masterclass in comic timing, complete with dazzling choreography, impeccable facial expressions and enough jazz hands to illuminate Broadway itself. Heck, the featured ensemble during “Turn It Off” is simply tap-tactic. Having spent years with the company in multiple capacities, Franke understands this material inside and out, and it shows. His cheeky, campy cameo in “Scary Mormon Hell Dream”, helps make it a
As The General, Shafiq Hicks delivers one of the production’s most commanding performances. Possessing a booming stage presence and undeniable authority, Hicks makes an immediate impression from the moment he appears. His performance of “Hasa Diga Eebowai” earns exactly the reaction one hopes for from first-time audiences: gasps, nervous laughter and a collective realization that The Book of Mormon intends to push every button it can find. Yet Hicks doesn’t just play the role as a caricature. Instead, he grounds the character in a reality that gives the surrounding comedy greater impact.
What continues to impress most about The Book of Mormon, however, is how successfully it balances satire with sincerity. 
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.