There are plenty of productions that ask audiences to suspend disbelief. Then there is Manual Cinema‘s The 4th Witch, which somehow makes you forget disbelief exists in the first place. Presented at OZ Arts Nashville through Saturday, the Emmy Award-winning collective’s latest work transforms Shakespeare‘s Macbeth into something wholly original—a visually stunning coming-of-age story told through shadow puppetry, live performance, music, filmmaking, and sheer theatrical ingenuity. What unfolds over the course of the evening feels less like watching a play and more like witnessing a movie being created before your eyes.
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.
The plot itself is compelling, but it is the method of storytelling that leaves the strongest impression. Using vintage overhead projectors (you know the kind…those of us of a certain age surely recall teachers using them to project transparencies of mathematical equations and the like in high school classes), cameras, handcrafted puppets, live musicians, projected animation, and an astonishing amount of precision shadow-ography, the ensemble simultaneously performs the story while creating the cinematic images projected above them. One thrill of a Manual Cinema experience is that audience members can watch both the finished “film” and the intricate mechanics behind its creation at the same time. Somehow, knowing exactly how the illusion works only makes it more magical.
One of the evening’s most impressive achievements is the seamless collaboration between the performers, musicians, and designers responsible for bringing this world to life. Conceived and directed by Drew Dir and devised alongside Sarah Fornace and Julia Miller, The 4th Witch demonstrates the remarkable creative shorthand that has developed among Manual Cinema’s founding artists over the last fifteen years.
The production’s visual language is particularly striking. Dir’s storyboard and puppet design work provides the foundation for a series of hauntingly beautiful images, while Julia Miller’s silhouette mask designs help create a dreamlike aesthetic that feels simultaneously ancient and contemporary. Combined with David Goodman-Edberg‘s atmospheric lighting and Sully Ratke‘s costume and wig design, the result is a world that exists somewhere between folklore, nightmare, and fairy tale.
Yet for all of the technical wizardry on display, it is the performers who make the impossible seem effortless. The puppeteering ensemble works with the precision of a championship relay team. Lizi Breit, Leah Casey, Sarah Fornace, Julia Miller, and Jeffrey Paschal constantly shift responsibilities, characters, and storytelling functions, often within seconds. One moment they are manipulating puppets, the next they are operating cameras, creating visual effects, changing costumes, transitioning scenery and magically bringing the silhouetted shadow puppets to life. Watching them perform below the screen becomes almost as fascinating as the imagery being projected above it.
Particularly impressive is how seamlessly Fornace and Miller balance their roles as co-creators of the piece while simultaneously serving as performers within it. Miller’s commanding presence as the Lead Witch anchors much of the production’s visual storytelling, while Fornace’s work as the young Girl at the center of the narrative provides much of the show’s emotional heart. Jeffrey Paschal brings physicality and gravitas to multiple roles, including Macbeth himself, while Breit and Casey navigate a variety of characters that help populate the production’s ever-shifting world.
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.
What makes The 4th Witch especially memorable is that none of these elements ever feel isolated from one another. The puppetry, music, projections, acting, sound design, and storytelling function as a single living organism, each piece dependent on the others. Kauffman and Vegter’s original score and sound design provide the connective tissue binding everything together, creating a production that feels less like a stage play and more like a handcrafted cinematic experience unfolding in real time.
Visually, The 4th Witch is breathtaking. Drawing inspiration from storybooks, silent cinema, and graphic novels, the imagery is often hauntingly beautiful. Interestingly, there’s no dialogue or narration, no intertitles like you’d see in a traditional silent movie. Moments of darkness and danger are balanced by scenes of wonder and imagination, creating a rich emotional landscape that feels both timeless and urgently contemporary. The story unfolds naturally and fully narratively cohesively through the skill and beauty of this truly groundbreaking cinematic medium.
What ultimately makes The 4th Witch resonate, however, is its heart. Beneath the inventive staging and dazzling visuals lies a story about resilience, empathy, and finding one’s place in a complicated world. It is a reminder that even amid chaos and conflict, there remains the possibility of hope.
In an era where audiences have seemingly endless entertainment options available at the touch of a screen, Manual Cinema offers something increasingly rare: a theatrical experience that can only truly be appreciated in person. For Nashville theatergoers looking for something unlike anything else currently on stage, The 4th Witch is not merely recommended—it is essential viewing.
Manual Cinema’s The 4th Witch continues at OZ Arts Nashville (6172 Cockrill Bend Circle) with an 8pm performance Friday, June 5 and concludes Saturday, June 6 with both a 2pm matinee and a final 8pm evening performance. The venue opens an hour before each performance and offers a bar menu featuring a variety of alcoholic and nonalcoholic beverages for purchase. Youth and Artists/Creative tickets are $25, General Admission tickets are $35 and Generous tickets are $45. CLICK HERE to purchase tickets. As an extra bit of fun, following the June 5 performance, Oz Arts will host a post-show Friday Night Talkback featuring Sarah Fornace and Julia Miller moderated by Nashville Shakespeare Festival‘s Artistic Director Jason Spelbring. (this event is free to Friday night’s audience).
Whether you’re a Shakespeare enthusiast, a theatre lover, a film buff, or simply someone searching for an unforgettable artistic experience, this remarkable production proves that some of the most powerful magic still happens live and right before you eyes. Forget what The Wizard of Oz said…at this Oz Arts Nashville performance, go ahead and pay attention to the men and women behind the curtain!
Manual Cinema’s The 4th Witch marks the close of Oz Arts‘ current season, so be sure and CLICK HERE to stay in the know as Oz Arts reveals their coming 2026/2027 Season soon. To keep up with all things Oz Arts, follow them on Facebook, YouTube and Insta.
For more about Manual Cinema, and their current multi-city tour schedule, CLICK HERE or follow them on Facebook, Insta, Vimeo and Bandcamp.
As always, If you want to read our latest on Music, Movies, Performing or Visual Arts, please check out JHPEntertainment online or socials at Facebook, Insta, X and Threads.
In case you missed it, check out JHPEntertainment.com‘s Rapid Fire 20Q with Manual Cinema’s Julia Miller and Sarah Fornace, then…#GoSeeTheShow!
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.
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?
That said, when the show leans into its rhythmic intensity, it’s virtually unstoppable. “Thunderstorm” delivers one of Act I’s most exhilarating sequences, the male troupe unleashing a barrage of percussive footwork that feels both primal and impossibly precise. “Firedance” shifts the energy entirely, with flamenco soloist Rocio Dusmet Orellano commanding the stage in a fiery fusion of Irish and Spanish traditions—an arresting reminder of the show’s global reach.
Act II opens with “American Wake,” a vibrant nod to the Irish diaspora, before launching into one of the production’s most visually and culturally compelling segments: “Trading Taps.” Featuring Riverdance Tappers Kenji Igus and Dharmesh Patel, the number unfolds—per state-of-the-art projections—Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass (DUMBO), a detail my date for the evening, a former New Yorker, was quick to appreciate. Here, the show brilliantly illustrates how Irish rhythmic traditions echo through tap and hip-hop, creating a dialogue between styles that feels both historic and strikingly modern.
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.
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.
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.
While Jimmy Stewart’s Alfred from 1940’s The Shop Around the Corner presented the male counterpart of the story as a bit of a prickly nay-sayer, the musical adaptation’s male lead Georg Now, played in The Keeton’s She Loves Me by Jayden Murphy,
As Amalia Balash, Jiana Kevilus is radiant—sharp-tongued in the workplace to comedic delight when pitted again Georg one moment and achingly vulnerable when speaking (or singing) of her unidentified letter-writing love the next. Her interpretation honors Amalia’s insecurities, especially those revealed in Will He Like Me?, while infusing her with modern emotional clarity. As anticipated, Kevilus’ Vanilla Ice Cream—approached as a pivotal moment where Amalia subconsciously begins to realize Georg’s true identity—bubbles with joy, confusion, and discovery. It is one of the highlights of the evening: vocally agile and acted with specificity. In an admirable way, Kevilus’ performance of the song put me in mind of Olivia Newton-John’s Hopelessly Devoted Grease moment.
Kimberly Wolff, who seems to have become a full-fledge member of the Keeton company of frequently seen actors, is a standout as Ilona Ritter. Wolff gives the role the perfect blend of glamour, vulnerability, no-nonsense practicality and emotional intelligence. Her work in the number I Resolve is especially effective—Ilona’s attempt at independence is tinged with hope, frustration, and surprising strength.
Her scenes with Tommy Anglim’s Kodaly are super-charged with electrically playful tension. Anglim’s Kodaly is smooth, sly, and charming in all the most infuriating ways. During their shared musical numbers—particularly Ilona, Anglim’s Kodaly delivers a somewhat bawdy, yet perfectly comedically timed riotous performance. Anglim’s delightfully narcissistic Kodaly and Wolff’s tough-but-tender Ilona feel like they walked straight out of a Golden Age film.
Once again, The Keeton’s in-house scenic designer, Kevin Driver delivers a triumph and his She Loves Me set should be one of the most-talked-about elements of the production. Inspired by the 2016 Tony-winning Broadway revival’s transformative shop design, Driver creates an only slightly scaled-down Maraczek’s Parfumerie that feels timeless, elegant, and tactile. The mobile units shift the space effortlessly, inviting the audience directly into the warmth of the 1930s Budapest shop.
The supporting roles are filled with memorable performances. Brian Best, last seen as William Frawley in The Keeton’s Lucy Loves Desi, lends Mr. Maraczek gravitas and returns Best to the typical bravado roles for which he’s come to be known. His solo of Act 1’s Days Gone By and its Act 2 reprise are unexpectedly hauntingly touching. Sipos, a role often 
played as gentle and understated, in the hands of Victor Davis, creates a charmer with soulful presence and hilarious comedic timing. Making his Keeton debut, Samuel Boggs brings youthful earnestness to Arpad, his Try Me full of plucky determination. Boggs’ performances should be remembered as he’s definitely poised to be one to watch with a sure-fire future in Nashville’s theatre community.
As for the rest of the cast, Brenda Brannon (always a personal favorite) is snooty perfection as the sever in the upscale restaurant where our two fated lovers attempt their first face-to-face, Rich Moses, and the ensemble—Chloe Beehm, Hazen Lawson, Kathleen McClanahan, and Amanda Noss—bring humor, color, and a bit of extra fun to each moment they touch. Again, particularly enjoyable is the restaurant scene, from the physical comedy to flirtation abounding.