I’ll say upfront that I’m not coming to this strictly as a “critic” these days, but as one now sitting on the other side of the table as an artistic director over at The Weekend Theater. I've come know how much blood, budget, and stubborn belief it takes to get a show like this one on its feet.

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When I talk about what worked in this production, I’m not just talking about what moved me as an audience member. I’m talking about what I recognize, as someone who has stood where Delance Menefee is standing, as genuinely hard to pull off well.

The Story Behind the Story

Here’s the part I didn’t know walking in, and the part that makes the show land harder once you do: Hands on a Hardbody is adapted from a 1997 documentary of the same name, which followed a real contest at a Nissan dealership in Longview, Texas, where a group of everyday people stood in a parking lot with one hand on a brand new pickup truck. Last person still touching the truck won it outright. No catch, no gimmick. Just an object worth more than most of them could otherwise afford, and the outer limits of human endurance standing between them and it.

The path from documentary to Broadway stage is a strange one, and it took over a decade. Pulitzer Prize winning playwright Doug Wright optioned the film and started building the book, eventually pulling in lyricist Amanda Green and, in one of the odder pairings in modern musical theater, Trey Anastasio, yes, the frontman of Phish, to co write the score. None of them had any obvious business making this Texas dealership parking lot sing, and yet that’s exactly what the show does: country, gospel, rock, and pop, all filtered through people who have never sung a note in their lives but have plenty to say.

That mixed pedigree matters because it’s part of why the show refuses to condescend to its characters. It would be easy to write ten broke Texans fighting over a truck as a punchline. Wright, Green, and Anastasio don’t. Every one of the contestants gets a reason to want it, rent, dignity, a way out, a way to prove something to a parent or a spouse or themselves, and the show treats every one of those reasons as equally worth singing about.

That’s really what the show is about, underneath the sweat and the sunburn and the parking lot theatrics. It’s about what happens when you strip away everything else and leave a group of people standing in a circle around the one object that, in their minds, could fix their lives. J.D. Drew, the aging former oil rig worker, is fighting his own body and his own pride as much as he’s fighting the other contestants, refusing help from his wife Virginia because accepting it would mean admitting he needs it. Janis and Don Curtis are working through a marriage under strain, one of them literally standing in the heat for days while the other refuses to leave the parking lot either in support of the other. Kelli and Greg are the two young ones who find in each other a reason to imagine a life outside the town they’re standing in, which is why their duet lands as an escape anthem rather than a simple love song. Norma finds her endurance through faith, her a cappella number reading less like a performance and more like a woman testifying in real time. And Benny, the cocky returning champion, exists specifically to remind everyone else, and the audience, that winning this contest does not make you a good person. It just makes you the last one standing.

That’s the quiet, sneaky theme running under all the comedy: the contest is a stand in for the American Dream itself, sold as a fair fight that any hard worker can win, dressed up with a jingle and a used car salesman’s grin, but built on the backs of people who need it far more than the dealership needs to give it away. The musical never says this out loud and it doesn’t have to. It just lets you watch ten people bake in a parking lot for what a truck is supposed to represent, and lets you decide for yourself what that says about how we measure worth in this country, and especially in the small towns this show is drawn from.

Act One: Building the World, and the Truck

Argenta’s production opens with the full ensemble number that lays out the rules of the contest and, more importantly, the stakes underneath it, and from that first number on, it’s clear this cast understands exactly who these people are. That’s the note I kept coming back to all night: how accurately this ensemble captures the varied lives of people living in the South, and specifically in Texas. Not caricatures, just people you’d recognize from your own hometown, your own backyard.

Credit for that has to go around generously. Emory Molitor’s musical direction gives the score its teeth, and it's not a soft, polished sound, but something that feels lived in. For a score that jumps between country twang, gospel testimony, and rock ballad within a single act, that kind of consistency of tone is genuinely difficult to pull off with a community sized cast and rehearsal window. Noah Warford’s choreography, doing double duty as a cast member himself, keeps ten bodies engaged with a single truck without ever making the staging feel static, which is no small feat when your central prop is, by design, not supposed to move much for most of the show’s runtime. And director DeLance Minefee has clearly built a cast that trusts each other completely, because the comedy in this show only works if nobody is playing it safe. Southern comedy, done right, is not gentle (and if you think it is, well, bless your heart). These characters will fight tooth and nail, sling insults, and drag each other through the mud, all over a truck that, in the grand scheme of things, is objectively not that big a prize. That pettiness is both a joke and the tragedy at once, and this cast plays both halves of it without ever tipping too far into cruelty or into sitcom broadness.

No one plays that duality better than Wyatt Hamilton as Benny Perkins. Benny is a former winner of the contest, back for another round, and he is, by design, the closest thing this show has to a villain: cocky, manipulative, and completely unbothered by how that reads to the people around him. Hamilton finds all of it. Act One closes on Benny’s big number, “Hunt with the Big Dogs,” where he essentially tells the rest of the field that if they “can’t run with the big dogs, they should stay on the porch with the pups”. It’s a genuinely great villain song, smug, sharp, and performed with an energy that carries the whole act out on a high note. Hamilton is clearly eating up the energy of the song while atop the truck up there, and it’s infectious. What I appreciated most, watching it as someone who thinks a lot about how community theaters cast and stage antagonists, is that Hamilton never plays Benny as a cartoon. He plays him as a man who has convinced himself that ruthlessness is just realism, which is a much scarier and more honest kind of villain than a mustache twirler would have been.

The show also has real tenderness underneath the comedy, and that came through most in the duet between Tyranni Hubbard and Noah Warford in “I’m Gone,” the score’s breaking away anthem for two contestants who find something unexpected in each other over the course of the contest. Their harmonies were the kind that make you and everyone you came with turn to each other afterward and just say wow. It’s one of those numbers where the writing and the performers meet perfectly in the middle, and it works because it earns its optimism honestly. These are two people who have every reason to be cynical about their circumstances, and the song lets them imagine something better without ever feeling naive about it.

And then there’s the ensemble comedy. Matthew Maguire, Katie Choate, Taylor LeRon, Erin Calaway, Chip McAfee and everyone else all get moments to shine, and the show is genuinely funnier for how deep this cast’s bench is. No character feels like filler. Every one of these ten contestants earns their place in the parking lot, and that matters thematically as much as it does comedically. Part of the point of this musical that I came to understand is that every single person standing around that truck has a full, complicated life that the contest reduces down to a single, absurd physical act. A cast that treats every character as a full person, rather than a punchline waiting to happen, is doing right by what the show is actually trying to say.

Speaking of the parking lot: Argenta built an actual truck for this production! It would have been easy to suggest the vehicle, to work around it with a platform or a projection, but instead the truck is a full, physical presence on stage, shifting position, getting climbed on, becoming the literal and figurative center of gravity for the entire show. As someone who has had to make those exact calls on a community theater budget, knowing what does and doesn’t get built versus suggested, I can tell you that choice is a statement of intent. It’s the kind of staging decision that pays off constantly, because the truck isn’t just scenery, it’s a character the actors are in constant physical negotiation with, and it grounds the whole show’s central metaphor in something the audience can actually see and touch.

The staging highlight of the act, though, might be the gospel number, the show’s a cappella showstopper, “Joy of the Lord,” which Lexi Ellis as Norma launches into with an energy that pulled the entire audience into clapping along by the end. No instruments, no safety net, just voices, and it worked on everyone in that room. Pulling off a fully unaccompanied number in an ensemble musical is one of the hardest things you can ask a cast to do, because there’s nowhere to hide pitch or timing issues. This one landed clean, and it landed as more than a showpiece. It’s the moment the show lets faith, rather than desperation or spite, be the thing that carries someone through.

By intermission, I was delighted and more than a little surprised at how much I was enjoying a show I’d known nothing about and hour and a half earlier. And thinking back on Argenta’s season so far, The Cake being the last production I reviewed before this one, there’s a real throughline this season of shows that hold up an honest mirror to the communities we actually live in here in Arkansas and across the South. Not the exaggerated version, but the real one.

Act Two: No Spoilers, Just Heart

I won’t tell you who wins the truck. I won’t even hint. What I’ll say is that Act Two turns up the emotional volume without ever losing the humor that made Act One so much fun. There’s heartbreak in it, there’s heartwarming stuff in it, and there’s a real sense of dread as the field narrows and you realize how much every remaining contestant actually needs this. As the number of hands on that truck dwindles, the show stops being about who is clever or strong enough to win and starts being about what winning would actually cost each of them, physically and otherwise. I was on the edge of my seat until the literal last beat of the show, genuinely unsure who was going to walk away with it. I was shocked. I was moved. I was completely engaged the whole way through.

What stuck with me walking out wasn’t just how funny or well sung the show was, it was how much I found myself rooting for people competing for something as mundane as a functional vehicle, and how little that mundanity mattered once the show had done its job. Whether that truck on Argenta’s stage can actually drive, I genuinely couldn’t tell you. But the horn works, and every time it went off, the whole room lit up.

As a fellow artistic director, I’ll also say this: shows like Hands on a Hardbody can be a real gamble. A large ensemble cast, a score that demands genuine vocal range and blend across country, gospel, and rock, a set piece that has to function as both scenery and scene partner. I don't think Argenta tried to play it safe with this choice, and the payoff shows in every corner of the production. That’s the kind of risk that makes a season worth watching, and it’s the kind of risk I hope more companies in this city, mine included, keep taking.

Argenta Contemporary Theater keeps pulling this off this season, programming shows that catch me off guard in the best possible way, put together with a level of care that makes me excited for whatever’s next on their calendar. Hands on a Hardbody is a testament to that. Congratulations to the cast, crew, and production team on a genuinely spectacular piece of theater. If you’re anywhere near Argenta, get tickets. This one’s worth every minute.

And this isn’t going to be a “here’s everything I’ve learned” post. I haven’t earned that one yet, and I’m still early enough in this role that I’m learning plenty of it in real time, so this more of the “here’s where I want to take this” kind of post. Consider it a bit of a personal mission statement, written by someone who is still, genuinely, a little in awe of the fact that he gets to do this at all.

What I’m Not Trying to Change

Let’s start here, because I think it matters more than anything else I’m about to say.

The Weekend Theater has had a mission since 1991: “Being dedicated to personally, inter-personally and educationally reducing prejudice, cruelty, and indifference through live theater.”

One sentence, and somehow it covers everything this company has ever tried to do. TWT has never been the theatre in town that plays it safe, because it’s the company that picks the show other companies might shy away from, the one with the uncomfortable subject matter, the difficult conversation, the show that’s going to leave people arguing in the parking lot afterward, in a good way. That reputation wasn’t built by accident, and it wasn’t built by me, but by decades of directors, actors, designers, and board members who believed that live theatre and the performing arts in this town should occasionally make you squirm a little, because that’s often where the real thinking happens.

I have zero interest in sanding that edge off. If anything, I want to sharpen it. The last thing I want is for longtime TWT audiences to open a season brochure a year from now and think, “Well, that got safe.” That’s not why I took this position, and it’s not why I think anyone who’s ever loved this theatre keeps coming back.

So, first and most importantly: the soul of this place isn’t changing. What I’m here to think about is everything around it, how we grow, who we reach, and how we make sure the next twenty years are as bold as the last thirty-something have been.

Bringing It Into the Next Generation

Here’s something I think about a lot: every single person currently active in Central Arkansas theatre, actors, directors, designers, box office volunteers, all of it, was, at some point, a person who had never done any of this before. Somebody handed them a script, or a paintbrush, or a headset, and said “try this,” and it turned out they loved it. That’s it. That’s the entire pipeline. It’s not really that complicated, but it does require someone to keep doing the handing.

I want The Weekend Theater to be aggressively good at that handoff. Not in a vague “we welcome newcomers” way that ends up being a line on a website nobody reads, but in a real, structural way, actively developing new directors instead of always reaching for the same handful of trusted names, giving first-time stage managers a shot with an experienced mentor next to them, bringing in designers who’ve never had a TWT credit and treating that as an asset instead of a risk.

I also want to think seriously about the audience side of the next generation. A lot of the people who’ve supported this theatre for years are, understandably, getting older, and if we’re not actively building relationships with younger theatregoers, people in their twenties and thirties who maybe think of theatre as something their grandparents (or even their parents, now) only do, we’re not setting this place up for the next thirty years, we’re just coasting on the last thirty. That means thinking hard about how we talk about shows on social media, about how an attendee’s journey on the website and ticket purchasing is, about how we’re engaging with the community outside of performances, and about whether the lobby feels like a place a 26-year-old wants to hang out before curtain.

None of that touches the art.

All of it touches whether the art has an audience in 2040.

Being a Voice People Can Actually Reach

I want to say something a little more personal here, because I think it’s easy for Artistic Director to become an abstract title attached to a name on a program insert, and I really don’t want that to be true of me.

I got into this, being an active performer, writing about theatre, going to shows constantly, eventually running them, because I love being in the room. I love talking to people after a show. I love hearing what somebody’s ninety-year-old grandmother thought of the show they’d never even heard of. I love getting a slightly unhinged DM or email from someone with thoughts about the set design or choreo or costuming or props.

That’s not going away just because I now carry a title with more responsibility attached to it.

So here’s my actual commitment, in plain terms: I intend to be reachable.

If you email me, I will answer.

If you see me in the lobby of another company’s show, and you will, constantly, because I have no intention of stopping being an avid audience member just because I now help run a theatre myself, come say hi.

I’m not interested in running this place from behind a closed door. If something’s not working, I’d rather hear about it from you directly than find out secondhand. If you have an idea, even a half-formed one, I want to hear it. The best ideas I’ve ever had about this scene came from conversations in a lobby during intermission or over a late-night drink with friends in the community.

I know that’s easy to promise and harder to actually live up to once the day-to-day of running a nonprofit theatre sets in. So hold me to it. That’s fair.

Building Bridges, Not Just Producing Shows

This is maybe the part I’m most excited about, and it connects directly to something I wrote about in my last post (no, not the amazing review of Good Guy with a Gun), the fact that Central Arkansas has an unusually rich, layered theatre scene for a metro area our size. I don’t think that richness happens by accident, and I don’t think it survives if every company treats every other company as competition for the same limited pool of ticket buyers, actors, and production staff.

I want The Weekend Theater to actively collaborate with our neighbors. And that’s not a vague aspiration, I mean specific, real things like:

• Cross-promoting each other’s seasons instead of pretending the other companies don’t exist.

• Exploring joint workshops or training opportunities with other companies.

• Finding ways to support the incredible pipeline of young talent coming out of the programs lead by educators in both schools and fellow theatre companies.

These are companies and programs full of people who love this art form as much as anyone at TWT does, and I’d much rather spend my energy figuring out how we can lift each other up than pretending we’re rivals fighting over the same finite pie.

Practically, that might mean a joint reading series somewhere down the line. It might mean actors moving more fluidly between our stages instead of feeling like they have to pick a “home company” and stay loyal to it forever. It might mean something as simple as showing up to opening nights at other theatres. I don’t have a five-year strategic plan for this yet, I’ve been in the job for a matter of weeks, not years, but I know which direction I want to be leaning, and it’s toward each other, not away.

Where This Leaves Us

I want to be honest: I don’t have all of this figured out yet. Nobody hands you a manual when you become an artistic director, and I’m still learning plenty of this in real time, sometimes by getting it wrong first. But I wanted to put this down in writing now, while I’m still early enough in the job that these hopes are fresh, partly so you all can hold me accountable to it, and partly because I think it’s important for a theatre’s community to know what its leadership actually cares about, instead of having to guess from a season brochure.

So here’s the short version, if you want it distilled: I’m not here to change what The Weekend Theater is. I’m here to make sure more people get to find it, more new artists get a real shot at building something here, and this whole scene keeps getting stronger together instead of staying siloed. I want to be a director you can actually talk to, not just a name in a program.

If any of that resonates with you, whether you’re a longtime TWT supporter, someone who’s never set foot in our building, or an artist at another company entirely who’s up for grabbing coffee and talking shop, my inbox and schedule are open. I mean that.

More soon. I’ve got one season to help run and another to help build.

— Caleb

Ten years in the making, this project represents a monumental labor of love for creators Philip Labes and Micah O’Konis, whose shared experiences and meticulous dedication shine through every single bar of music, every razor-sharp lyric, and every moment of narrative escalation.

What immediately sets this album apart from standard contemporary concept recordings is its sheer refusal to rely on external crutches. Unlike many experimental scores that require listeners to frantically piece together plot points via a Wikipedia summary or a dense digital libretto, Good Guy with a Gun tells its entire story natively within the tracks. It marries the polished, high-gloss production value of a chart-topping pop album with the deeply emotional, character-driven storytelling of classic musical theater. Set against the chaotic backdrop of Washington D.C., it walks a razor-thin tightrope of wild comedy, feeling thrillingly akin to what might happen if The Book of Mormon set its satirical sights squarely on the National Rifle Association and the modern American political machine.

The premise itself is pure genius. At the center of the storm is Ron Barkley, a committed NRA employee who finds himself completely at odds with his politically progressive daughter, Jenna, a young activist who spends her weekends marching in protests alongside her stoner boyfriend. Their ideological stalemate is upended in the most absurdly theatrical fashion imaginable: when Ron is confronted at gunpoint by a disgruntled keyboard warrior, he desperately prays to God for deliverance and receives it in the form of a magical firearm that literally brainwashes people into conservative ideology.

Armed with this divine intervention, Ron begins converting Jenna’s friends, systematically driving a wedge between father and daughter. In a brilliant mirroring of escalation, Jenna responds by praying for her own weapon of mass persuasion, a magical megaphone that turns anyone it addresses staunchly liberal. What follows is a hilarious, escalatory ideological arms race, pitting father against daughter in a battle to forcibly rewrite each other’s core beliefs and turn one another into the exact person they’ve always wanted the other to be.

The entertainment factor embedded within our nation’s deepening political dividing lines has long been a fascinating sociological phenomenon, and the creators lean into this with fearless ingenuity. The album brilliantly exposes how modern society literally elevates ordinary individuals to near-celebrity status simply for becoming loud, unyielding mouthpieces for partisan talking points. It captures the psychology of those who initially feel voiceless, finding a sudden, intoxicating rush of empowerment through political combat, and weaponizing that newfound platform against their ideological neighbors.

To bring this wild, multi-layered concept to life, the casting directors assembled an absolute embarrassment of riches, choosing performers who don’t just sing the notes, but completely inhabit the psychological absurdity of their roles. Chris Sullivan anchors the piece with brilliant comedic weight and surprising vocal warmth as Ron Barkley. Sullivan manages the impossible task of keeping Ron grounded; even as he wields a mind-altering firearm, there is a frantic, human desperation to his performance that prevents him from becoming a flat caricature. Opposite him, Kimiko Glenn shines as Jenna, bringing a fierce, youthful passion and crystalline vocal clarity that serves as the emotional anchor of the entire narrative. Glenn captures the righteous indignation of a generation desperate to change the world, paired with the heartbreaking vulnerability of a daughter losing her father to ideological fanaticism.

Adding to the album’s powerhouse pedigree is Anthony Rapp, who steps into the role of Silas with the effortless authority of a musical theater legend. Rapp infuses the production with a magnetic energy, perfectly embodying the near-celebrity-dom of political speakers and commanding every vocal cue with theatrical precision. Alongside them, Vic Michaelis, beloved by fans for their unforgettable work with Dropout, brings top-tier comedic timing, deadpan delivery, and impeccable ensemble energy, rounding out a cast that feels tailor-made for these eccentric, hyper-modern archetypes. Every single vocal performance feels dialed-in, sharp, and entirely committed to the premise’s high-stakes ridiculousness.

Musically, the album is a triumph from the first downbeat to the final chord. The score shifts effortlessly between driving pop-rock anthems, intimate folk-inflected reflections, and bombastic Broadway showstoppers. The title track, “Good Guy With A Gun,” is an instant standout, a hook-heavy, biting anthem that encapsulates the entire satirical thesis of the show with infectious, foot-tapping rhythm and razor-sharp wordplay. It is the kind of song that gets lodged in your brain for days, marrying catchy pop sensibilities with lyrics that manage to be both laugh-out-loud funny and genuinely unsettling in their accuracy.

Equally breathtaking is “N-R-Amen,” a track that elevates the album’s satirical commentary to a literal holy level of musical theater-dom. Utilizing a soaring black gospel choir style, the song juxtaposes the deeply secular, hyper-partisan nature of modern American political rallies with the transcendent, soul-stirring architecture of traditional spiritual music. The musical arrangement is brilliant, transforming what could have been a simple comedic gag into a soaring, goosebump-inducing theatrical experience that showcases the profound depth and versatility of the score. Throughout the rest of the album, the orchestrations remain lush, dynamic, and endlessly inventive, proving that Hal Rosenfeld (the album's Executive Music Producer) possesses a rare ear for melding diverse musical genres into a cohesive, driving narrative engine.

Listening to the fully realized production, it is staggering to think that this project has been gestating for a full decade. That ten-year incubation period is more than palpable in the final product; nothing feels rushed, recycled, or accidental. The lyrics are densely packed with wit, nuance, and structural brilliance that rewards multiple listens, uncovering new layers of satire with every rotation. With how flawlessly executed the concept album is, it carries the weight and polish of a show that has already been packing houses on Broadway for years.

This is precisely why the album deserves to become everyone’s newest obsession in the world of musical theater. Beyond its undeniable entertainment value, Good Guy with a Gun holds up a much-needed, brilliantly distorted mirror to a society exhausted by polarization, reminding us of the absurdity of our cultural trenches through the healing power of laughter. As an artistic director watching the theatrical landscape evolve, my immediate hope is to see this brilliant piece of musical theater break out of the digital streaming space and expand rapidly into community theaters, regional houses, and stages across the nation. It is a story that desperately needs to be told, particularly in regions where political tensions run high and conversations around gun rights and civic identity are most urgent.

The creators, the cast, and the creative team have delivered something truly extraordinary. This concept album is a vital, hilarious, and profoundly entertaining milestone in modern musical comedy. If you have the funds and the passion for groundbreaking theater, support this project wholeheartedly. Stream it, share it, buy the physical merch, and champion it from the rooftops, because if we rally behind it now, we just might pave the way to see this brilliant, absurd, and necessary story brought to life on local stages everywhere.

If you’re looking to listen, you can find it everywhere music is found!

I want to start this one a little differently than usual. No single review, no one show to gush about, just a wide-angle look at where we are, right now, as a theatre community. I’ve been sitting on this idea for a while, mostly because every time I try to write it, I realize I have to add three more paragraphs because somebody else announced a season, or opened a new black box, or hired a new artistic director (hi, that’s me now). So consider this a snapshot. A love letter, really, to a scene that is doing a lot more than most people outside of it realize.

If you’re new here, maybe you found this Substack because you Googled “what plays are showing in Little Rock” at 11 p.m. on a Tuesday, no judgment, welcome. This post is for you as much as it’s for the folks who’ve been reading along since the early days. Consider it your map.

We Have More Companies Than You’d Expect

Central Arkansas is not a big metro area. We’re not Chicago, we’re not Atlanta, hell, we’re not even Nashville. And yet, if you started counting, you’d run out of fingers pretty quickly trying to tally up the theatre companies actively producing work within a thirty-minute drive of the State Capitol.

There’s Arkansas Repertory Theatre, informally known as “The Rep”, which has been celebrating fifty years of professional theatre in this state. Fifty freaking years! That’s not a typo. The Rep has been the closest thing Central Arkansas has to a flagship professional house for half a century, and their recent SummerStage season leaned into that milestone hard, opening big and closing soon with a full celebration of Stephen Sondheim’s catalog. When people think “real theatre happens somewhere else,” The Rep is usually the among the first counterexamples I bring up, because they’ve been doing this at a genuinely professional level since before a lot of us were born.

Argenta Contemporary Theatre, you might remember them as Argenta Community Theater before their rebrand, has spent over a decade building out programming in North Little Rock, expanding into education work along the way. Actors Theatre of Little Rock, tucked into the basement of Quapaw United Methodist Church, has built an identity around what they call “Fearless Works,” and they mean it, their programming tends to swing bigger and bolder than what you’d expect from a company this young. Wildwood Park for the Arts is out doing massive-scale musicals in a genuinely beautiful outdoor-adjacent venue in west Little Rock. The Royal Theatre in Benton has been quietly one of the most consistent producers of family theatre in the entire metro, restoring a genuinely historic building while they’re at it. And that’s before we even get to The Weekend Theater, where I now have the enormous privilege of serving as Artistic Director (I promise, an entire post on that is coming).

I haven’t even mentioned the university programs, the high school theatre departments that are producing work good enough to make you forget you’re watching teenagers, or newer ventures like Stage 13, which emerged last year and has already made a real marks on the community with large-scale productions, including the premiere of the Mean Girls musical and a pre-professional showcase at The Rep that left a packed house genuinely floored by how much talent is coming up behind us.

Why This Actually Works

Here’s the thing that took me a while to understand, and that I think is worth explaining if you’re new to this world: none of these companies are really competing with each other. Not in the way you’d expect.

If you think about it like a restaurant scene, it makes more sense. You don’t choose one restaurant and eat there forever. You want variety, a place for a quick lunch, a place for a special occasion, a place that does one specific cuisine really well. Theatre in Central Arkansas works the same way.

• The Rep and Wildwood can produce large-scale, professionally staffed work because they have the infrastructure and the budget to do it.

• Argenta Contemporary Theatre can bridge thr gap between well-known shows and brave ventures on a professional stage.

• The Weekend Theater and Actors Theatre can take bigger artistic swings, shows that are weirder, edgier, more emotionally raw.

• Stage 13 can lean into education and youth development in ways that shape who’s even available to cast five or ten years from now.

Every one of these companies has carved out a slightly different lane, and audiences benefit enormously from that. You’re never stuck with one flavor of theatre in this town. If a straight drama isn’t your thing this month, there’s probably a musical two miles away. If community theatre feels too “low-key” for you, there’s a professional house doing something a little more polished. If you want something that’s going to genuinely unsettle you in the best way, well, you know where to find me.

The Part Where I Get a Little Sentimental

I’ve been going to shows in this town for what feels like a long time now, first as an audience member who had no idea what he was doing, then as a reviewer, and now as someone actually helping at running a theatre. And the thing that never stops striking me is how much of this entire ecosystem runs on people who are not getting paid enough, or at all, for what they do.

Set builders showing up on their day off. Stage managers running a show for free because they love the process. Board members fundraising in their spare time so the lights can stay on. Directors who have a day job in marketing or nursing or teaching and then spend every evening for six weeks in a rehearsal room because they can’t imagine doing anything else with their time. That’s the actual engine of this scene, and it’s a genuinely beautiful thing to be a small part of.

I also think it’s worth saying, plainly, that Central Arkansas theatre has had a rough year in some corners, organizational drama, legal disputes, hard conversations about how theatres treat the people who work for them. I’m not going to pretend that doesn’t exist, because pretending it doesn’t exist doesn’t serve anybody, least of all the artists caught in the middle of it. But I’d rather use this Substack to point toward what’s working, celebrate the people doing the work well, and trust that the scene as a whole is bigger and more resilient than any single organization’s bad month.

What You Can Actually Do With This Information

If you’ve read this far, here’s my ask: go see something.

It genuinely does not matter which company. Pick whichever one is closest to you, or whichever show description catches your eye, and buy a ticket. Ticket prices at every company I’ve mentioned are shockingly reasonable compared to what you’d pay for a movie and popcorn for a family of four, and the experience of live theatre, actual humans, actual mistakes, actual electricity in a room, is not something streaming will ever replicate.

And if you find yourself falling in love with it the way I did, stick around. I’ll be walking through specific ways to get involved in a future post, because there is so much more to this world than sitting in the audience.

Where This Substack Goes From Here

I know this newsletter is in a season of transition, I’ll be handing the keys over to someone new in the coming months, and I wanted to use some of this remaining time to zoom out and give both longtime readers and brand-new ones a real sense of the landscape we’re covering. Future posts are going to dig into specific trends, specific companies, specific people, and yes, plenty more reviews. But I wanted this one to be the map you can come back to.

Central Arkansas theatre is not a footnote, it’s not a “cute local hobby” scene. It is a genuinely rich, layered, hardworking artistic community that punches enormously above its weight for a metro area our size. I’m proud to be a small part of it, and I’m grateful you’re along for the ride.

More soon. Go buy a ticket to something.

— Caleb

You've all probably been wondering where I've been and what's been going on and why there haven't been that many posts that have been coming out. Well, if you've been keeping up with the news around our little community here in Central Arkansas, you will have seen that recently I was named the artistic director for The Weekend Theater here in Little Rock. This is an amazing and wonderful opportunity that I am beyond thrilled to be taking on.

With that being said, something that I would love to make sure remains unbiased and open to those who enjoy reading these articles from people (and I use quotes around this to say "don't have an allegiance per se to one particular theater") is this: I would love for this to remain an unbiased space and for no one to take issue with where and who these articles are coming from.

I am currently in the process of working towards bringing on someone new who has just as much of a passion for our theatre community, is a wonderful writer, and is able to take this over. I haven't quite wanted to announce that yet.

What you will be seeing moving forward is some new work coming out and a transfer of ownership for the Central Arkansas Community Theatre substack. I would still love to write occasionally for the theaters that are around the community. Obviously, I will still make sure that our calendar is kept up to date with all of the shows and amazing performances that will be happening year after year. Rest assured this will remain an unbiased uplifting space because, as I continue to tell everyone that I meet, a rising tide lifts all ships. That has always been my goal with this substack.

I hope that you will remain subscribed and continue to see the amazing news coming out through this sub stack and the upliftment of all of our community and the people that are here. As it stands right now we'll be a little quiet as things get shifted over and as we get a hold on things. I know there's been a lot of cast announcements and there's been a lot of season announcements. Please go and support all of those theaters through their social media channels to make sure that you stay up to date. The calendar, however, is currently up to date with all of the new seasons that have been announced. The only one that has not been added yet is the Royal’s but that will be coming soon.

Thank you all again so much for being a part of this journey and I hope to continue seeing all of you in the audience.

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​For a show that has been a staple of the musical theater canon for decades, the challenge is always how to make it feel fresh. Making his directorial debut at The Rep, Caelon Colbert did exactly that. He captured a rare moment and created what can only be described as lightning in a bottle: bringing to life a production that feels deeply nostalgic yet entirely new in a strikingly beautiful balance from top to bottom.

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From the moment the show begins, it is clear that this is not your standard, run-of-the-mill staging. The production bursts with an outstanding array of costumes and design choices heavily inspired by classic video games and the attention to detail here is brilliant. Beyond the vibrant visual aesthetic, the direction cleverly integrates video game mechanics into the choreography and blocking. Watching actors move on stage in rigid, straight lines, evoking the precise grid-movement of traveling the world map in a classic Mario Bros. game, is a masterstroke of physical comedy and conceptual commitment. It adds a layer of stylized, energetic charm that makes the world of Egypt and Canaan feel alive in a whole new way.

​By the time the curtain fell on Act One, the lobby at intermission was buzzing with a warm, infectious energy. The sheer spectacle of color and dance left the audience captivated, setting the stage for an even stronger second half.

​Act Two delivered an overwhelming amount of talent and storytelling, reaching an absolute pinnacle with "Those Canaan Days." Easily my highlight of the night, the number was a tour de force of humor, precise comedic timing, and raw talent. The synergy between the soloists and the ensemble during this piece was marvelous, earning some of the biggest laughs and loudest cheers of the evening.

​What makes this production truly special, however, is its power of conversion. Eavesdropping on the crowd after the final curtain, a consistent theme emerged: this show is making people believers. Theatergoers who openly admitted they were never major fans of Joseph left the theater completely turned around. Local actor and director, Dr. Nick Farr echoed the sentiment of many in the house: "I typically have not been a major fan of Joseph, but this was absolutely amazing and I am now a fan." Meanwhile, fellow attendee and my soon-to- be choreographer for Fiddler on the Roof next year, Kenzie Burks, called it, "the best version of the show that I have seen so far."

​As a whole, the cast was absolutely synchronized, delivering flawless choreography and stunning vocal harmonies. The sheer energy on stage brought the production to a level of professionalism that is wonderful to witness in a local theater space, exactly the high caliber of art one expects when walking into a premiere regional repertory theater.

The Leading Voices

• ​Parris Lewis (The Narrator): Bringing in guest artists can elevate a production, and Parris Lewis did just that. Her voice was flat-out outstanding. It was an out-of-this-world performance from start to finish, richly deserving of the enthusiastic standing ovation the audience gave her at the final curtain.

• ​Matthew Bautista (Joseph): Bautista anchored the show with a melodic, rich, and full voice that practically lulled the audience into wanting to hear him sing forever. His performance was deeply moving, beautifully capturing the heart and growth of the titular role.

​The production was further grounded by stellar supporting performances from Amin Fusan, who brought great depth to Jacob and Potiphar, and Max von Kolnitz, who stood out as Reuben and as a driving force in the ensemble. A massive shoutout must also go to Reagan Allen as Simeon; her solo work during "Those Canaan Days" was fantastic, anchoring the comedic and vocal weight of the night’s best number.

​One of the greatest joys of the evening was seeing a stellar lineup of local favorites back on The Rep's stage. It was a true pleasure to see Makayla Shipe making a welcome return to the locsl stage, alongside brilliant work from Austin Bernard, Michael Pere, Quentin Sanders, Jameson Watkins, and Jenna Thaxton, all of whom have been an absolute joy to watch in the community over the years.

​And, of course, I would be remiss if I didn't celebrate the return of Alex Harkins. Back from college and back on an Arkansas stage, it was delightful to see him performing locally again for the first time since our shared time in Legally Blonde.

​Ultimately, this production is a testament to the immense power of regional theater and the impact of fresh directorial voices. To Caelon: a monumental congratulations on your directorial debut at The Rep. You brought together an exceptional team, executed a bold and joyful vision, and gave Arkansas audiences a piece of theater that is genuinely special. I could not be prouder of the work you’ve put on this stage.

​Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat is a high-score triumph for the Arkansas Repertory Theatre. Whether you are a lifelong fan of the musical or a skeptic waiting to be converted, this is a game you definitely want to play.

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For those planning to attend, I do offer one logistical note: seek a seat toward the front of the house. I opted for the periphery to remain unobtrusive while taking notes, but in doing so, I found that the blocking occasionally sacrificed detail in the downstage corners. Much of the brilliance in this play lies in the subtextual reactions of the characters when they aren’t the primary focus; so sitting closer ensures you capture the complete tableau, which is essential given the precision of Dupree’s staging. In this specific configuration, the set feels like a dollhouse with its walls removed, offering a perspective that is both inviting and intrusive. You are effectively living in their storefront, sharing the air of their discomfort, and bearing witness to the unspoken fractures that define their existence.

The set design effectively navigates the show’s bifurcated structure. The downstage portion displays a meticulously realized cake shop, the domain of Della, played with a haunting, multifaceted warmth by Natalie Canerday. The upstage area is partitioned to represent two distinct worlds: the transient atmosphere of the bed of Jen’s extended family, where Jen and Macy reside for this trip, and the bedroom of the private home of Della and her husband, Tim. This spatial dichotomy mirrors the thematic friction of the script, highlighting the literal and figurative distance between these characters. The flow between these zones is seamless, suggesting that while the physical distance is minimal, the psychological chasm between the characters is vast. The transition between the domestic warmth of the bake shop and the chilly isolation of their respective bedrooms creates a rhythmic tension that carries the audience through the ninety-minute runtime without a single moment of stagnation.

The narrative arc begins in North Carolina, where Della meets Macy, an investigative journalist visiting from out of state (for reasons yet to be revealed to both the audience and Della). Macy, who writes for progressive outlets like the Huffington Post, serves as the story’s intellectual catalyst. It is a sharp character choice by Brunstetter to give Macy this background, as it immediately establishes her worldview without resorting to caricature. While Macy and Della are ideologically diametrically opposed, Macy’s approach is not one of condescension. Rather, she navigates her interactions with a profound, learned patience, attempting to foster understanding even when the cultural gap feels insurmountable. There is a palpable effort on her part to translate her own reality into something Della can process, a feat of emotional labor that often feels sisyphean. Watching her balance her professional detachment with her personal desire to be accepted by her partner’s family is a masterclass in subtlety.

Jen serves as the heart of the conflict, having grown up in this small, conservative community she returns home carrying the burden of an identity that clashes with the religious traditions that raised her. The play is suffused with the specific, inescapable gravity of Southern life, capturing the unique anxiety of returning to one’s roots only to find that the soil has grown barren for you. When Jen hesitates to identify Macy as her fiancée, Macy’s refusal to let the moment pass is both a source of tension and a necessary turning point. It forces Jen to confront her truth, and consequently, it forces Della to confront a reality she has never had to navigate: the sudden realization that the “Jenny” she remembers is not the woman standing in front of her. Della’s subsequent retreat, claiming her October baking schedule is suddenly “too full”, is a stellar showcase in the politeness of prejudice, a way to maintain the veneer of a “good Southern woman” while actively denying the humanity of the queer couple before her. This is not a mustache-twirling villainy, but a far more common, insidious variety of exclusion that disguises itself as convenience.

Across this 90-minute journey, the production expertly navigates the confluence of queerness, Southern heritage, and the complex trauma of family dynamics. It touches on the grief of losing parents, both in the literal sense and in the metaphorical loss of parental validation. It is a testament to the cast and director that this was handled with such grace, moving the audience not through didacticism, but through the hard, lived-in reality of these characters. It served as a difficult mirror for those of us in the community who have witnessed, or personally experienced, this specific flavor of rejection. The brilliance of The Cake is that it refuses to offer easy absolution. It forces the characters, and the audience, to sit in the discomfort of their own contradictions, asking us if we are capable of growth when our most cherished beliefs are directly challenged by the people we love the most.

Natalie Canarday’s performance is, as the local buzz suggested, the spine of this production. With a resume spanning over 100 stage productions and 50 films, she carries an effortless command of the stage. Canerday manages an extraordinary emotional tightrope walk; she oscillates between the quintessential, charming Southern grandmotherly figure whose stream-of-consciousness, non sequitur speaking, provides much-needed levity, and a woman who has essentially vanished into the routine of her labor. Watching her portray a woman who has forgotten how to be satisfied, only to find a desperate, painful awakening through her craft, was certainly a highlight of the production. She finds nuances in Della’s silence, using her posture and her full self to convey a lifetime of repression and internalized doubt. It is a deeply vulnerable performance that anchors the entire play in a human reality that makes the broader political debates feel intimate and vital rather than abstract.

Opposite her, Jeff Bailey’s portrayal of Tim is an exercise in restraint and empathy. In a play so focused on feminine perspectives, Bailey’s Tim provides a necessary, grounded look at the masculine experience within a traditional framework. The climax of the show is particularly devastating because of his contribution; he portrays a man whose resistance to Jen’s life is born of deep-seated, learned rigidity rather than malice. It is an honest, unvarnished look at how even well-meaning people struggle to evolve in a rapidly changing world. Bailey brings a gentle, weary quality to Tim that makes his eventual moment of clarity all the more earned. He represents the silent partner, the one who watches as the foundations of his life are shifted by forces he is only beginning to comprehend (if comprehend at all), and his performance is a vital counterpoint to the more overt volatility of the other three characters.

The chemistry between LeAnne Roberson (Jen) and Melody Small (Macy) is the engine that drives the play’s emotional resonance. Their interaction feels entirely unscripted; the way they navigate the comfortable, lived-in cadence of a couple who have shared life’s peaks and valleys is remarkably natural. Roberson, in particular, displays an evolving pool of talent that I have watched grow for years. Her ability to navigate the internal dissonance of a queer woman returning home to a place that may no longer recognize her is a performance of immense bravery. She captures the specific ache of wanting to be known and loved for who you are by the very people who defined you before you knew yourself. Small, meanwhile, brings a sharp, necessary clarity to the role of Macy. Her delivery is devoid of the preaching often associated with such characters; instead, she plays Macy as a woman who has grown accustomed to the exhaustion of teaching, yet remains committed to the work of bridge-building. Together, they create a portrait of modern queer love that is both celebratory and deeply pragmatic, highlighting the realities of navigating a world that isn’t always designed for them.

Even the unseen characters are handled with precision. Brandon Paul Eells, lending his voice to the Great American Bake Off host, George, provides a brilliant, satirical foil to the heaviness of the main plot. His voice-overs serve as a sonic representation of the media-saturated, performance-driven culture that Della is obsessed with. These moments of levity were vital, providing the audience with a necessary release before descending back into the emotional thicket. The jarring transition between the high-energy, artificial world of baking competition television and the quiet, heavy reality of the kitchen scene is handled with masterful timing by the technical team. It emphasizes how Della uses the show as an escape, a way to focus on the trivial perfection of a sponge cake so that she doesn’t have to address the chaotic reality of her daughter-figure’s life.

Ultimately, Heather Dupree has crafted a production that feels profoundly vital to our current moment in Little Rock and communities found throughout the country. It is a story that knows its audience, speaks our language, and challenges our complacency. By stripping the narrative down to its core components, the team at Argenta has reminded us why live theatre remains the most effective medium for public discourse. The play succeeds because it does not try to solve the cultural divide with a lecture; instead, it invites us to sit with the protagonists in their kitchen, to taste the sweetness of the cake, and to reckon with the bitterness of the truth. It is a delicate balance, and one that requires a sure hand at the helm. Dupree has managed to ensure that every emotional beat hits with the force of a hammer while maintaining the lightness required to keep the audience engaged through the harder moments.

If The Cake is indicative of the standard for Argenta Contemporary Theatre’s upcoming season, we are in for a remarkable rest of the year. I strongly encourage anyone with an interest in challenging, poignant, and impeccably acted drama to secure their tickets immediately. The house was at capacity last night, and given the caliber of the work, I anticipate a sold-out run. Go support this talented company; their work is a vital contribution to our cultural landscape. We are incredibly fortunate to have a space like Argenta that is willing to take risks on contemporary scripts that speak directly to the complexities of the Southern experience. It is through these stories that we begin to see ourselves, our neighbors, and our own communities with a renewed sense of clarity and compassion.

Thank you for reading, and I hope to see you in the audience soon. It is always a pleasure to engage with such thoughtful, dedicated members of our local theatre community, and I am grateful for the chance to document this particular moment in our city’s ongoing theatrical dialogue.

Looking forward to seeing everyone who’s attending Joseph tonight at The Rep!

Photo Credit: Corbin Pitts

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I owe a debt of gratitude to Christina Munoz for helping me secure tickets for myself and my wife, Heather. Walking into the venue, I was struck by the significance of the moment, a fresh history in the making. As announced prior to the start of the show, this show held the distinction of being the first Singin’ in the Rain Sr. production ever staged in the state of Arkansas. In a landscape where theaters frequently rely on “aging up” younger actors to fill roles that require gravitas or specific life experience, Wildwood has set a new standard by actively carving out a space for our senior community to not just participate, but to lead.

In most modern theater, the casting of older actors is often limited to a few specific character roles. While there is nothing inherently wrong with young actors taking on older personas, it is, after all, the nature of the craft, there is a profound difference in the texture and energy of a show when the performers actually possess the life experience of the characters they portray.

From the moment the curtain rose, the production felt deeply inclusive. The creative team, under the guidance of Munoz, managed to strike a delicate, brilliant balance. The script utilized the cast’s age to great effect, incorporating clever, tongue-in-cheek humor that poked fun at the realities of getting older. However, this never crossed the line into being condescending. It didn’t feel like a show about “old people doing their best”, but like a group of seasoned professionals reclaiming the stage with grace, wit, and immense talent. It helped in grounding the spectacle in a warmth that made the entire experience feel like a personal invitation to the audience.

The musical numbers were nothing short of spectacular. Kenneth Rich, stepping into the iconic shoes of Don Lockwood, was wonderful. He captured that specific brand of pretty boy arrogance, tempered with genuine charm, that feels so synonymous with the style of Dick Van Dyke. Watching him navigate the chaos of the transition from silent film to talkies felt natural, and his chemistry with Kelly Ponder, who played Kathy Selden, was the beating heart of the show.

Speaking of Kelly Ponder, she was a powerhouse! Her voice brought that quintessential, polished classical musical theater sound that this score demands. Her ability to anchor the emotional narrative between Don and Kathy, even within the constraints of a tight, 90-minute run time, was masterfully done.

Emory Moliter’s turn as the screechy-voiced, villainous Lina Lamont was an absolute masterclass in intentional imperfection. It is a peculiar kind of genius that allows a talented vocalist to purposefully hold back their gifts to play a character who has none. Moliter navigated those disastrous vocal lines with such comedic precision that it was easy to forget how much raw talent it actually takes to sound that bad on purpose.

Finally, I have to talk about my main man, Chip McAfee, as Cosmo Brown. I truly do not believe a more perfect casting choice existed. Having worked with Chip previously during On Golden Pond at Argenta Contemporary Theatre, I knew his natural warmth was infectious. That energy was cranked up to a thousand as he took on the comedic archetype of Cosmo. He was the glue of the production, poking at Lena, keeping Don on his toes, and welcoming Kathy into the fold with a magnetic charisma that lit up the stage.

The most pressing question on my mind going into the show was, naturally, the dancing. Singin’ in the Rain is, at its core, a dance musical. The choreography is relentless, demanding, and technically punishing. When you consider the physical toll that tap dancing takes, on knees, hips, and stamina, it becomes clear that this cast was not merely doing a show, but performing an athletic feat that would put any actor of any age through some WORK.

To see these members of our community, some who have graced the stage for years and others who returned after decades away, throwing themselves into these numbers with such vigor was genuinely moving. The highlight was, without a doubt, the title number itself. It was a grand decision to turn “Singin’ in the Rain” into an ensemble piece rather than a solo, but it paid off in dividends. The ensemble moved onto the stage with umbrellas illuminated by hidden lights, creating a visual symphony of movement in the darkened theater. With Don centered on his box, tapping away as the ensemble circled him, the sheer spectacle of the moment eclipsed anything I had expected. It was a testament to the fact that artistry does not have an expiration date.

I walked away from Wildwood feeling a deep sense of pride. Pride for my friends on stage, pride for the directors who dared to create this space, and pride for a local theater scene that is beginning to recognize the immense, untapped potential of our senior actors.

There is a whispered secret among those of us who were lucky enough to attend the opening performances, a hint that this may be the beginning of a larger movement of senior-focused performances in our area. I will leave the official announcements to the team at Wildwood, but I hope this is only the first of many such opportunities for our older artists to continue their love affair with the stage.

For those of you who missed this run, don’t despair. The Central Arkansas community is teeming with talent and upcoming productions. I encourage you to check the community theater calendar in this Substack, sync it with your own, and make a plan to support these spaces.

Lastly, to the readers who keep this substack running: we are so close to hitting 300 subscribers before the end of the year. It’s one of my personal goals for this year, and we are just about 25 people away. If you enjoyed this review, please consider sharing this post. Your support keeps the lights on for these local conversations about the art that matters most. Thank you for riding along with me, for supporting the arts, and for celebrating the brilliance of our local actors, no matter their age.

Photo Credit: Matthew Sewell

As an actress, I know what it feels like to stand center stage, completely exposed. I know how much courage it takes to be vulnerable. As a mother, my immediate instinct is to shield my daughter from anything that could hurt her. I look at the stage and I don’t just see my favorite art form, I see a sensory minefield of blinding lights, sudden cues, loud noises, and unpredictable shifts. I worry about her getting overwhelmed. I worry about whether the cast and crew will understand her needs, or if they will mistake her neurodivergence for a lack of focus. It terrifies me to think of her being misunderstood in a place I love so much.

As a director, I am trained to look at the big picture, to fix problems, to ensure everything runs seamlessly, and to guide performers to greatness. But when it comes to my daughter, I have to completely switch off that part of my brain. I cannot direct her journey. I have to step out of the production chair and just be her safe harbor. It’s hard, but I have to remind myself that this isn’t about perfection, it’s about her discovery. My job isn’t to stage-manage her experience; it’s to hold her hand backstage and when the curtain comes down, no matter how it went. It’s to show her grace, and figure out what works best for her and apply that every step of the way.

When my daughter Trudie decided she wanted to start theatre this year, I was over the moon. She started showing a huge interest in singing and performing through different activities at school, cheerleading, and her camp experiences. Then, it was audition time. Trudie practiced for weeks. I watched from the wings as she sang her song so confidently and perfectly. As a family, we were blown away when she was offered the role as “Young Anastasia/Alexei.” As excited as I was, I also had an overwhelming sensation that every special needs parent experiences daily—fear. What happens when the routine breaks? How many times will she elope? What if too many changes for her during the rehearsal process causes a meltdown? What if people don’t understand how hard she has to work every single day to just make it through the night? Then I had to stop, take a deep breath, and remember: Trudie was completely non-verbal just four years ago. It wasn’t until just after Trudie turned four that I received the two greatest gifts: my first hug and hearing her call me ‘Mommy’ for the first time. Now look at her. She’s in her first musical, surrounded by the most incredible and supportive cast and crew that protect her, guide her, and love her.

Trudie is sharing the show run as “Young Anastasia/Alexei” with her new friend Joy Curtis. Joy’s parents, Grace and Jason Curtis are also in the cast. They interact with both girls on and off stage and have taken Trudie in as one of their own, the entire cast and crew has. They have welcomed her from the start and it means the world to me. When Trudie and I get in the car to head to the theatre I will always hear, “I’m going to see all my friends!” Joy, as well as the “sisters” (Callie Graham, Dia Bird, Abby Davis, and Alex Wharton) have guided her through the entire rehearsal and show process. Trudie’s onstage parents Grace Curtis (Tsarina) and Zach Tallent (Tsar) have been absolutely exceptional. They met Trudie exactly where she was, guiding her with a level of patience and leadership that evolved right alongside her.

Which brought me right back to my biggest worry: how do you guide an autistic eight-year-old through the silence and stillness required backstage during a show run? Well…you don’t, so we adapted. Whether it’s a “jump hug,” a hand squeeze, a knee bounce, or a high five, everyone has accommodated Trudie every step of the way to make her feel included and seen. Which, if we’re honest, isn’t that something we all need? Despite all my fears, there is a quiet voice inside me that is bursting with hope. Theatre is a lighthouse to people that don’t fit in “boxes,” and those who feel too deeply, like me. If you think about it, it is the perfect play place for an autistic mind. Characters give you a literal script for different human interactions and life experiences. You can try things the world originally told you there was no way you could do them. If Trudie can find her footing here, I know it could unlock a level of confidence in her that nothing else can.

Each night as I wait in the wings ready to whisk her on and off stage, there’s only one thing I look for: her smile. Excitement builds up inside her every single time she prepares to go on for her scenes. This enthusiasm comes from what’s most important to her, getting to do what everyone else is doing. She’s being included. She’s being cheered on. Most importantly, she’s being herself.

To everyone reading, thank you for listening, and for allowing me to share this vulnerable chapter of my life with you. Now, let’s get back to the show.

Stage Mom Hat off, Reviewer Hat back on.

I had the privilege of reviewing this show from all angles. From rehearsals, to tech, to dress rehearsals, to being backstage during the actual show runs, I’ve got the best seat in the house.

Anastasia The Musical isn’t your typical glittery princess story, nor is it a completely heavy, depressing historical drama. Instead, it sits beautifully in the middle, a gorgeous, sweeping romantic myth about identity, displacement, and the literal and figurative ghosts of the past. The musical introduces a much grittier, historically grounded Act I (Soviet Russia, political tension, post-revolution bleakness) with incredible numbers as “A Rumor In St. Petersburg” and “Learn to Do It” before transitioning into the glittering, romantic jazz-age of Act II Paris with “Paris Holds the Key.”

Director Jeremy Clay excels at navigating these complex themes, guiding the narrative with remarkable sensitivity and care. It has been remarkable to watch the cast lean into the complex character development he envisioned for them, especially when it comes to the dynamic trio of Anya (Karis Martin), Dmitry (JT Watford) and Vlad (Rex Wilkins). Jeremy has genuinely tracked the emotional shift where the “con” blurs into genuine familial love. One of my favorite parts of the show is when Dmitry stops seeing Anya as a paycheck and starts seeing her as a human being, and where Vlad transitions from a charming scoundrel to a protective father figure.

It’s been incredible to watch the journey Jeremy started when molding these characters. No doubt, the most exciting one was with Anya’s villain, Gleb. Gleb has a dangerous infatuation with Anya and creates the villains’ storyline dynamic to be so believable. To make the journey even better, our villain Gleb, is played by Jeremy Clay’s son, Nathan Clay. Gleb isn’t a cartoon monster; he’s the hero of his own story. He genuinely believes the revolution is building a better Russia, yet he is haunted by his father’s role in executing the Romanovs. If Gleb is played as just a flat “bad guy,” the show’s political and emotional depth completely evaporates. This is an emotionally draining role to take on and as an actor. You have to completely check out of your reality in order to pull it off.

Nathan Clay hit it out of the park.

To say I am incredibly proud of Nathan is an understatement. Watching him step into a villain role and absolutely master it has been unforgettable. You can see how he has spent countless hours deconstructing this character’s psyche, fine-tuning the personality, and perfecting a voice that sends literal chills through the room. And those vocals? Absolutely outstanding. “The Neva Flows” and “Still” are spectacularly handled by Nathan. The sheer dedication he poured into this performance shines through every second he’s on stage.

The vision that Jeremy Clay had for this show, it really has me speechless. I respect him so much as a fellow director and friend. Jeremy Clay’s artistic vision for this show is nothing short of magnificent. With the help of his assistant director, Aubree Blankenship, the attention to detail in every single layer of this production is staggering. The set design is visually stunning, the sound design is incredibly atmospheric, and the ensemble dynamics are electric, bringing a beautiful, unified energy to the stage. Jeremy’s brilliant use of the space is a highlight—especially that phenomenal kabuki drop, which is such a stunning, immersive moment that pulls you right into the heart of the action. It is an absolute triumph of a show where every moving part clicks perfectly into place. He has led these performers to greatness.

Karis Martin is easily one of the most talented performers I’ve ever seen, her voice is absolutely mesmerizing and pure. But what makes her truly special is her heart. She is one of the kindest, most grounded cast members I’ve ever been around. It is rare to encounter a performer with this level of breathtaking talent at just 19 years old, but Karis proves that she was simply born to play Anya. She possesses a Disney-princess-quality voice that commands the stage, capturing both the sweeping romance and the fierce determination of the Grand Duchess. When she performs “In My Dreams” at the beginning of the show, you’re hooked. You can’t help but smile and go along the journey to the past with her. Yet, what makes her performance a true masterpiece is her off-stage spirit mirroring her on-stage role; she is genuinely one of the sweetest human beings, going out of her way to ensure everyone feels seen and valued. Her beautiful bond with Joy and Trudie (the Young Anastasia’s) is incredibly heartwarming; the pure admiration on their faces whenever Karis gives them her genuine attention speaks volumes about her character both as an artist and a human being. As the 3 princesses share the song and stage for “Once Upon a December” you can feel that bond every time they are on stage.

Karis doesn’t just play Anya, she embodies her. She is living and breathing each word of “Journey to the Past.” To watch her on stage is to witness a rare convergence of elite talent and pure heart. Anya is a character who brings people together, and Karis does exactly this. In a role defined by identity, hope, and heart, Karis stands alone, there is absolutely no one like her. I don’t see a reality where we won’t see Karis on Broadway. Her portrayal of Anya is a transcendent moment in time that absolutely everyone needs to experience.

Playing a beloved character like Dmitry requires a delicate balance of sharp-witted charm and genuine vulnerability, and JT Watford delivers a brilliantly unique interpretation. He is an absolute joy to watch, breathing fresh personality into the role with an infectious energy that resets the stage whenever he steps onto it. Dmitry is a character built on hustle, charm, and eventual transformation, and JT captures that spirit beautifully while adding a completely unique spin of his own. He is incredibly fun to watch, infusing the role with a distinct personality that feels entirely original. His true superpower on that stage is his chemistry; he treats every interaction with his castmates with utmost importance, echoing Dmitry’s own journey of learning the value of the people around him. He makes everyone on stage shine brighter just by sharing it with them. The onstage relationship Dmitry and Anya develop from friendship to true romance is extremely authentic and heartfelt.

After leaving audiences utterly spellbound last fall with his house-down performance in Jekyll & Hyde The Musical, Rex is back onstage and absolutely perfect as Vlad in Anastasia The Musical. Rex possesses the kind of unmatched skill and powerhouse presence where he effortlessly commands the room, and you simply cannot take your eyes off him. Rex doesn’t just play Vlad; he dominates. His comedic timing is impeccable, delivering a performance that is quite literally one for the books. With an unmatched skill set, Rex infuses the production with boundless joy and a larger-than-life energy. It is an absolute privilege to watch a performer of his caliber remind us all exactly what stage magic looks like.To witness Rex pivot from the dark, intense depths of Jekyll & Hyde The Musical last autumn to the joyous, buoyant charm of Vlad Popov is to witness an actor at the absolute peak of his craft. I could watch Rex, JT, and Karis develop scene work all day. They make you fall in love with theatre over and over again.

The duos in this production are incredible. Every great drama needs a grounding anchor, and every great comedy needs a spark, Leigh Ann Davis and Jessica Miller provide exactly that as the Dowager Empress and Countess Lily. Their dynamic is a masterclass in theatrical foil. Leigh Ann portrays the Dowager with a beautifully heavy, regal sorrow that reminds the audience of exactly what was lost in Russia. In perfect contrast, Jessica’s Lily bursts onto the scene with a buoyant, comedic brilliance that breathes fresh air into the Paris act.

Adding Jessica Miller to another amazing duo shouldn’t surprise anyone. When Jessica (Countess Lily), joins Rex Wilkins (Vlad) as the scorned lovers from the past the “farce” aspect of Anastasia The Musical takes off. They are so hilarious and have the audience rolling every night. “The Countess and the Common Man” is one of the biggest highlights of the night.

While the magic on stage captivated the audience, there was an equally brilliant, high-stakes second show happening entirely in the wings. Anastasia The Musical is a visual feast of gorgeous, intricate costuming, but what makes it truly spectacular is the sheer wizardry of the backstage execution. The costume changes in this production are incredibly complex and lightning-fast, yet the cast and crew coordinate them with such flawless precision that it feels like actual sorcery. Every single quick-change is a meticulously choreographed dance of its own. To pull off wardrobe transformations this heavy and detailed without missing a single beat is a massive testament to the seamless synergy between the actors and the brilliant running crew.

The brilliance of this production of Anastasia The Musical lies not just in its leads, but in a company that operates like a beautifully tuned orchestra. The vocal combinations are mesmerizing, creating a hypnotic wall of sound that elevates the entire score. It’s obvious that this wasn’t just a standard audition process; immense thought was poured into the architecture of this cast, ensuring that every ensemble member fits their multi-layered roles perfectly. Watching them seamlessly shapeshift into different characters throughout the night is a thrill. Every actor is fully dialed in, their facial expressions and rich character choices bring an incredible texture to the stage, proving that there are truly no small roles in this extraordinary company.

The Romanov family (Grace Curtis as Tsarina, Zach Tallent as Tsar, Joy Curtis, Callie Graham, Dia Bird, Abby Davis, and Alex Wharton) are the emotional ghosts that haunt the entire plot of Anastasia The Musical. It takes a very special kind of performer to transition from the lively, high-energy ensemble numbers to the heavy, solemn, and regal presence required for the royal family’s tragic flashback and haunting dream sequences.

While these ensemble members masterfully wear many hats throughout the production, their portrayal of the ill-fated Romanov family is where they truly elevate the production to high art. It is immediately clear that these performers have done profound historical research; it lives in the immaculate precision of their posture, the regal gravity of their stance, which Grace Curtis (Tsarina) masters, and the haunting grace with which they present themselves. Zach Tallent (Tsar) leads this royal family flawlessly and has excelled with the dramaturgy of this storyline. They all don’t just play history—they evoke it. By capturing that delicate, eerie balance of a living memory and a tragic ghost story, they treat the real-world history of the Romanovs with immense reverence, grounding the musical’s emotional stakes in a way that is deeply moving and entirely unforgettable. They present a reverence that commands total respect.

The multi-generational makeup of this ensemble is spectacular, but a massive shout-out has to go to the teenagers in the cast. These young performers are the definition of professional. You can tell they love theatre with every single bone in their bodies, and that raw passion translates into an electric stage energy. I have been deeply impressed by their incredible work ethic, their discipline, focus, and dedication during complex group numbers are flawless. They don’t just keep up with the adults; they elevate the entire company with their professionalism and heart. Also, the entire crew is from the Bryant High School Theatre department, under Jeremy Clay, and they run a fine tuned ship. They should be very proud of the level of skill they have at such a young age. It’s going to take them far and I know the cast is thankful to have them holding the show up.

Speaking of holding the show up, what more could I say about the musical direction of Heidi and Justin McCartney. Behind the sweeping, majestic score of Anastasia The Musical is the visionary co-music direction of the McCartney’s. As a dynamic husband-and-wife duo, Heidi and Justin bring far more than technical expertise to the rehearsal room, they bring a profound, contagious passion for the art of voice. Far beyond traditional directing, they act as vocal master sculptors, meeting every actor exactly where they are and molding their raw talent into its ultimate, finest expression. Their meticulous training and guidance have locked together a wall of sound that is nothing short of incredible, ensuring that every note soaring from the stage carries deep emotional truth and breathtaking clarity. They encourage every actor and support them. Justin even comes backstage with a bag of Vocalzone’s and lozenges ready to hand out to make sure the cast is taken care of.

The choreography of Jordan Purtle is nothing short of mesmerizing, sweeping the audience into the romance and grandeur of the era with effortless grace. From stately royal waltzes to sharp, exhilarating group numbers, the stage composition is consistently stunning. The choreographer has crafted a beautiful, kinetic heartbeat for this production.

From the very first note of the prologue to the breathtaking final curtain, this production captures pure stage magic. This is a cast and crew that truly embody what theatre is meant to be: a living, breathing testament to the power of storytelling. In bringing Anastasia The Musical to life, they remind us that the journey home is always worth taking, delivering an unforgettable experience that will linger in the hearts of the audience long after the lights go down.

Do not miss your chance to catch Anastasia The Musical during its second and closing weekend June 18th-21st at The Royal Theatre in Benton, AR.

For tickets:

https://our.show/the-royal-theatre/anastasia

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And y’all, what a show you’ve missed.

From the moment you enter the ATLR space, you are quickly surrounded by the sounds and sights of what one finds wandering through the streets of Washington Heights. Cartons of fresh fruits, graffiti in both English and Spanish, and a live fountain at the back-center of the stage truly make it feel like you’ve found yourself in a neighborhood courtyard. Of all the productions that I’ve seen ATLR bring to life, this one fully exceeds my expectations in its ability to transport me from Central Arkansas to the Big Apple itself.

Not only do you feel you’ve physically displaced yourself into the setting of the show, but you are gifted with several different delicious desserts and fully fleshed-out food options that feel born of both bodega-quality love and labor from the ladies manning the ATLR kitchen. From a mango-centric ice cream from our friends at Loblolly Creamery to the street corn and nachos (with your choice of pork or chicken), the options are enough to give other local dinner theatres a run for their money. As a personal note, because I promised I would, the food is truly outstanding. Heather and I pride ourselves on maintaining a kitchen that values diversity and flavor, and you can absolutely feel this coming from what is delivered there. Bravo, dear ladies, for feeding us in heart and soul for this show!

Now, let’s dive into the performance itself, because we have a lot to cover. I have chills from the opening number, as what explodes into life before me is nothing short of an anthem of culture, history, and joy for where you’re from. Without giving away too many of the stage secrets you experience seeing this show, I will just say this is one of the most impressive, constantly moving performances that I’ve experienced in the last few years of being within the community. From the set to the staging, you never have a chance to see every little detail unless you see it twice, but in the best ways possible.

In a wild turn of events, and because this show prides itself on community and the people within it, I want to discuss the ensemble and their crazy talent up front. The number of times that both Heather and I are left with our jaws on the floor, from the stunning costuming to the thrilling choreography, is beyond measure. Of course, with the return of the talented Amaya Hardin, paired with Jordan Leigh, it’s no surprise that the choreography from this show is nothing short of spectacular. From start to finish, the voices of this ensemble blend into a powerful chorus that truly resonates with the message of this show. It’s about people. It’s about culture. It’s about place. You can see that in each face rushing past, there is a sense of creating something bigger than the space of the theatre can hold. A story that grows beyond its walls.

Our Piraguero (Jharel Jerez) is given such an amazing opportunity to shine as a soloist among the ensemble cast. Delightful, hilarious, and a cornerstone of the community, it’s so special to see such a dear friend show how truly talented they are in a role that may seem small on the exterior, but brings such a wealth of culture to this show.

Usnavi de la Vega (Jacob Rivera) and Vanessa (Gabriella Martinez) are a beautiful pair to behold. Whether it’s Rivera’s charming, honest portrayal of a man wanting more for himself, all while hoping he’ll win the girl of his dreams in the end, or Martinez’s powerhouse vocals that leave me audibly saying, “Holy shit” multiple times throughout the performance, I’m blown away by both. What truly comes as a shock is that this is one of Martinez’s first performances ever, and to have such control and power in her voice for someone so fresh to the scene is a marvel to say the least. Each is a newcomer to the regular cast of characters I’ve met in recent years, and I am more than excited to see what they do next as I (hopefully) see more of them in the coming seasons.

Benny (Caelon Colbert) and Nina Rosario (Fernanda Posadas) leave me speechless. To this day, every opportunity Posadas is given to take the stage blows me away, and just when I think she’s hit her peak, she continues to climb and bring forth a characterization and vocal control that reminds me just how talented she truly is. I am crying by song two of the show, just from how perfectly she portrays the trials thrown onto the neighborhood “smart girl” and what happens when that is taken away. And of course, as anyone would agree, it’s truly a dream to see Colbert taking the stage after a multi-year break and into a role that seems to feel so comfortable and perfectly cast. Soulful and, at times, heartbreakingly pure, the pairing of Posadas and Colbert as vocalists leaves no audience member questioning why these two blend so perfectly.

Speaking of the Rosarios, Kevin (Chuck Bonet) and Camila (Lexie Ellis) are wonderfully selected as the doting and sometimes daunting parents to Nina. In a way that all children come to recognize, the things our parents lose and leave behind so that we may succeed in life bring forth such a powerful performance from both. On a personal note, it has also been a delight and pleasure to see just how diverse Bonet is in the creative community as both writer and actor. Thanks again, Chuck, for writing the Fences review!!

Sonny (Kekoa How) is hilarious (and Heather’s favorite character) from start to finish. How brings a levity to this story that is both necessary and perfectly delivered as the goofball, but good-hearted, cousin to Usnavi.

Daniela (Patricia Loera) and Carla (Veronica Ivester) are also some of my favorite characters to arrive on the scene. Ivester’s ditzy but devout dame brings several punchlines that leave the audience cackling. While Loera, to no one’s surprise, leaves my jaw on the floor with her vocal talent and delivery of Daniela’s snarky, snappy attitude. I’d happily let either of these wonderful women work my hair and gossip with me any given day.

But I cannot finalize this report without talking about both my all-star actor and favorite character, Abuela Claudia (Erin Martinez Warner). Similarly to the words Director Dariane Mull shared during the opening night toast about her own grandmother and her influence, my connection to my grandmother is also one of seeing a matron and pillar of her community. One where at the mention of her name, some stop to share the stories of how she helped, healed, and held those around her in an embrace that kept their light burning. The portrayal of Abuela Claudia in this performance is one that, in this humble reviewer’s opinion, gives the original voice of the role a run for her money. I couldn’t catch my breath through the entire performance of “Paciencia y fe.” The wisdom, the power, the absolute honesty that can be felt through every note left me with a frog in my throat and tears in my eyes. If I could offer more than a standing ovation for her performance alone, I would.

Beyond the sheer brilliance of the cast, the importance of this production cannot be overstated. In our current climate, it is our duty to help amplify the stories of our Spanish-speaking neighbors. By bringing these authentic, culturally rich narratives to the forefront in Central Arkansas, the Actor’s Theatre does more than entertain; they’ve bridged gaps and fostered empathy. When we see the joys, struggles, and aspirations of the Latinx community reflected on stage with such nuance and respect, it forces us all to look closer at the people who make up the fabric of our own cities and neighborhoods. These stories aren’t just “theatre”; they’re a mirror reflecting the evolving identity of our state, and seeing them honored with such passion is a necessity for a growing, inclusive artistic community.

In short, In The Heights is a testament to the groundbreaking performances and work that ATLR is bringing to life in Central Arkansas. I couldn’t be prouder of the work I see done in this space and the voices that are being lifted.

In The Heights tells a story that, at its core, reminds us that on the journey to chase our dreams, we may realize they are closer than we’d ever imagined. That it is the people around us who shape us into our best selves, and though they may leave us, they are never truly gone.

To the cast, crew, production team, and ATLR as a whole, you should feel incredibly proud of the work you do here. If I were to proclaim anything as fact, I would argue that this work proves to Central Arkansas and our community that the space and drive exist to bring culturally significant, contemporary shows to our little artistic corner. You set the standard, and I hope that others will begin to follow.

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Barring any failed attempts to invoke the Bard with my own words, they cannot express enough the joy, laughter, and revelry felt amid the audience through myself and fellow show-goers last night. Attending the opening of The Taming of the Shrew, directed by the visionary Darby Lytle, was the ultimate way to kick off my solo weekend. What I was delighted by upon arrival was that the house was nearly filled with both newcomers and, as perfectly put by a fellow theater lover earlier this week, resident “Bard Card” holders who eagerly awaited the show to begin.

Intentionally minimalist and exceptionally intimate, you’ll not find yourself left wanting for seat choices, as the performance is staged in the semi-round. Every nook and cranny is filled with entrances and exits most excellent from this terrific troupe of troubadours. Your evening begins with a live mime performance from Sam Dunbar as you ready yourselves for the pure circus of events set to unfold before you—a whimsical, wordless invitation into a world that feels both ancient and refreshingly contemporary.

I wanted to focus my observations on the whirlwind of Act 1, so as not to spoil the trajectory of Act 2, but read on, and you will surely find yourselves ready to book tickets immediately.

We begin with the traditional garb and gab of the Shakespearean era. A drunkard known as Christopher Sly, played with grounded, bleary-eyed commitment by Lewis Dodd, is left to stew in his own inebriation in the streets. He is happened upon by a group set on convincing this poor man that he’s no drunk, but a Lord. As the scene unfolds, Dodd being convinced of his fifteen-year “goodly nap” and a totally legitimate marriage to Megan Major’s less-than-willing Page, who is playing the role of a high-court Lady, the most exciting shift begins.

Enter Lucentio, played by Cozy Cozart, and Tranio, played by Stef Bailey. They arrive upon a mighty skateboard, bedecked in garb that would make Kevin Smith’s iconic characters jealous. With an accent ripped straight from the 90s skater-boy playbook, Cozart delivers Lucentio’s lines with love-struck honesty and bodacious bravado. This, paired with the sassy, direct, and incredibly sharp delivery of Bailey’s Tranio, makes the duo iconic figures among the cast. They offer an utterly gnarly performance that bridges the gap between Elizabethan verse and suburban rebellion.

As Lucentio famously cries, “Tranio I burn, I pin, I perish,” the audience is right there with him, laughing at the sheer audacity of the delivery via surfer bro slang.

Furthermore, I must highlight the incredible work of Biondello, played by Navy Griffin. Griffin is an asset to the “bro squad,” delivering a constant stream of organic, effortless laughter from the audience upon each entrance and exit. Griffin never takes away from the central tension but instead adds a layer of texture that keeps the pace moving at a breakneck speed.

Soon, the city is populated by an eclectic mix of residents. We have the resident “Poindexter” Hortensio, played by Shaina Tippitt, whose comedic timing kept us well-fed and constantly wanting more. There is the amorous elder Gremio, portrayed by Donna Singleton, and the frustrated, weary father, Baptista, played with excellent weight by Pammi Fabert.

Then, there is the darling duo of daughters: Bianca, played by Liam MacQueen, and the firebrand Katherine, played by Katie Choate.

I am forever impressed with Katie Choate’s ability to throw herself into such dynamic, world-shaking roles. She is a performer unafraid to be her truest self, thrusting upon the men around her the most authentic thoughts she’s held inside. She inhabits the defiance of a woman tired of being told where to stand. Her timing is sharp, a formidable force of nature that matches the energy of the room perfectly.

Beside her, MacQueen’s Bianca offers a balanced, lighthearted contrast. Watching these siblings, beset on different paths, navigate their visions of love and matrimony is a wonderful display in character work. The lightheartedness of Bianca’s dreams of romance, when matched against Kate’s disdain at the very thought of tying herself to someone who doesn’t meet her standards, creates a back-and-forth I found deeply endearing. Tempered for only a moment by Fabert’s patriarchal authority, the task of finding a husband for this “shrew” is clearly a daunting one.

Finally, we see the arrival of Grumio, played by Anna-Elise Polk, and Petruchio, played by Peyton Greenwood. Never have I seen a more complicated, toxic working relationship brought to life with such hilarious precision.

Greenwood’s performance as Petruchio is a high-wire act. They manage to step seamlessly from the persona of a passionate romancer to a rage-baiting, near-dangerous disruptor, coaxing the tamed shrew from her shell with a performance that is beautifully, hauntingly display in duality. Paired against the ever-helpful, though oft-abused, Grumio, Polk creates a character you can’t help but root for, the long-suffering assistant trying to keep their head above water.

The chemistry between Choate and Greenwood is electric. It is, to say the least, a volatile connection. The tension on display between these two feels less like a dusty period piece and more like a high-stakes, modern drama. It’s steamy in all the right ways and brings forth moments that feel like they belong on a daytime talk show stage rather than the Globe.

The conversations of women being treated as property are as relevant today as they were in the Bard’s time. Whether things are worse or better is a question the production asks the audience to answer for themselves. Act 1 is a fantastic endeavor into these themes, with the constantly scaling tension and the priming of Greenwood’s taming of Choate.

A special nod must be given to the costuming, which grounds this fever dream in a reality that feels both retro and current. It’s an immersive experience that pulls you into the world of the play the moment you step through the door.

As audience members themselves have noted, the energy in the room is palpable. As Keith Harper shared afterwards, “The show was sensational from act one to act two. The actresses and actors did amazing. Please go watch this show before it closes.” Kendall Haycook agreed, noting, “The show is incredibly fun, and it’s refreshing. Darby did an amazing job with the material. The cast was all very charming and silly, and it’s just a fun night at the theater.”

The Part You Were Waiting For (Skip if you don’t want spoilers!)

The most profound shift, and the one that will undoubtedly define this production, is the complete re-contextualization of the play’s final, notorious speech. In traditional mountings of The Taming of the Shrew, this moment is often a stumbling block, a lingering relic of a different era that can feel jarring to modern ears. But here, under the direction of Darby Lytle, it becomes the beating, righteous heart of the entire show.

When Choate took the stage for her final delivery, the air shifted. In a brilliant, subversive choice, Choate’s Katherine does not direct her words toward the subjection of women; rather, she turns the mirror squarely upon the men. It is a searing, articulate chastisement of the patriarchal structures that have dictated their lives throughout the production. She doesn’t just speak, but commands, stripping away the performative layers of the “shrew” to reveal the steel beneath.

We aren’t left with the image of a woman kneeling in subservience. Instead, we see Peyton Greenwood’s Petruchio do the unthinkable: he takes the knee. In a moment of profound, quiet gravity, Petruchio, the man who spent the evening trying to assert dominance, now bends before his wife in an act of genuine surrender, a plea for forgiveness for the transgressions committed. In that single, breathtaking tableau, the story felt flipped on its head, transforming the ending from a conquest into a reconciliation, a hard-won mutual respect that feels earned, modern, and deeply necessary.

Made possible only because of the immense amount of groundwork Choate and Greenwood laid in the preceding scenes, their chemistry is a constant, simmering friction. While early on, their banter is sharp, defensive, and undeniably physical, as the story progresses, you see the cracks in their armor.

Greenwood’s Petruchio is a masterclass in playing the toxic romantic, a man whose own insecurities manifest as control. You see the internal struggle on Greenwood’s face; they play Petruchio not as a mustache-twirling villain, but as a person desperately trying to navigate a world they don’t understand, using the wrong tools to earn love. It makes the final act of submission feel less like a stunt and more like the only logical conclusion for a character who finally realizes he has been fighting the wrong battles.

Conversely, Choate’s Katherine is a marvel of endurance. She plays the role with a visceral intelligence. You can track her journey through her eyes: she is calculating, observing, and eventually, liberating herself. She does much more than just survive Petruchio’s trials; she outgrows them. When they were on stage together, the audience was held captive by the sheer volatility of their interplay. It felt like watching two tectonic plates grinding together, dangerous, high-pressure, and inevitably leading to a seismic shift in the landscape of their marriage.

By allowing these two characters to evolve into a place of genuine equity, Lytle has done something truly special. They’ve honored the text while challenging its darkest impulses, proving that even the most stubborn, entrenched stories can be retold to empower rather than diminish. It’s a brave artistic choice, and it lands with the force of a thunderclap. When the lights finally faded, the audience isn’t thinking about the shrew who was tamed, but rather about the two human beings who finally learned how to stand as equals.

Final Thoughts

To miss this performance would be a disservice to our community and to the arts themselves. By and large, this is a story turned on its head by the conclusion, a stunning re-imagining born from Darby Lytle’s dedication to the craft. It is a rare chance to hear the voices of women—loud, strong, and set on letting the world know they are so much more than what they are labeled.

They are everything. And as any good student of the human condition knows, a man is truly nothing without the women in his life.

Go, get your tickets, and prepare to be entertained, challenged, and absolutely floored by this troupe.

The Cast

• Katherine: Katie Choate

• Petruchio: Peyton Greenwood

• Bianca: Liam MacQueen

• Lucentio: Cozy Cozart

• Tranio: Stef Bailey

• Baptista: Pammi Fabert

• Grumio: Anna-Elise Polk

• Hortensio: Shaina Tippitt

• Gremio: Donna Singleton

• Biondello: Navy Griffin

• Vincentio: Dorothy Johnson

• Pedant: Lauren Naeyaert

• Lord: Kai Pennington

• Servant: Delaney Brown

• Page: Megan Major

• Tailor: Brenya Sutton

• Court Mime: Sam Dunbar

• Christopher Sly: Lewis Dodd

• Standby: Savannah Price

As a theatre lifer, you’d think I’d have checked Steel Magnolias off my “must-see” list years ago. But somehow, I walked into The Arkansas Repertory Theater with a completely blank slate. I had no expectations for the staging, no history with the story, and no idea just how much this show would leave a mark on me.

As I stepped into the theatre, I immediately noticed the world-building. The set felt like I’d walked into the home of an eccentric aunt, the kind who found one glamour shot photographer in the 80s and decided that was the look for the rest of her life.

It was staged beautifully, but what caught my attention was the episodic nature of the pacing. This show is a beast to keep moving, yet the transitions between scenes felt like watching my new favorite series. The music cues and the movement of furniture felt more like character-driven choices that bridged the gap between the time and the emotion of the scene.

I spent a lot of time watching the “business” in the background—the things most audiences might miss. Watching Pitts and Jane actually working with the hair of their fellow actors—teasing, curling, and pinning back strands with an expert level of technique—was a masterclass in stage reality. It wasn’t just pantomime; it was craft. I was hilariously disturbed by the mere suggestion of hot dog water in a coffee pot (truly, a crime against caffeine), but it was those small, evolving touches—the radio, the upgrading technology—that perfectly charted the passage of time.

Beyond the performance on stage, there was an unspoken dialogue happening between the actors and the audience that I found particularly compelling. We’ve all been in those houses where the laughter feels forced, or the silence feels awkward, but that wasn’t the case at The Rep. There was a genuine, rhythmic lock between the house and the stage, a visceral back-and-forth that made the comedy soar and the tragedy ache.

For those who have seen it, either via stage or film, I’m sure it’s easy to walk into a production of Steel Magnolias with certain preconceived notions. Even by my own knowledge, little as it was, it’s a show that often gets unfairly pigeonholed as “theatre for the olds”, a comfortable, nostalgic piece for a specific generation. My companion and I were clearly among the younger minority in the house, yet that stereotype dissolved before the first scene change. The show felt alive, urgent, and entirely relevant to our current decade.

The way the audience moved with the play was a testament to the direction and the ensemble’s pacing. When the humor landed, and it landed with precision, the laughter was hardy and infectious, filling every corner of the space. But then, in the more intimate, heart-wrenching scenes, the theatre underwent that rare, miraculous transformation where you could hear a pin drop. It was that thick, focused silence that only happens when an audience has been truly captivated, when the personal stakes of the characters become the personal stakes of the room.

It was a reminder that great theatre doesn’t have an expiration date. Seeing a house full of people from various walks of life, across different generations, collectively lean in to witness the messy, beautiful, and devastating reality of these women’s lives was a powerful experience. It proved that the themes of community, resilience, and the sheer grit required to navigate life in the South weren’t just memories of the 80s, but are still active, present-day conversations today.

The Review

Set in Louisiana, the cast captured the delicate inflexions of our sister state with a wit and charm that left me questioning if I was still in Arkansas. There is a specific rhythm to Southern speech—a “turn of phrase” that can hit you in the gut while you’re still laughing from the wit.

Even with a few slight hiccups with phone sound cues, the cast’s ability to cover those moments with ad-libbing was seamless. It kept the energy from sagging and showed a level of professional intuition that you only see in seasoned ensembles.

Grace Pitts (Annelle) - Pitts’ performance as Annelle is a stunning, relevant mirror to the journey that Shelby undertakes. We watch a young woman swept up in the trauma of a disappearing husband, only to succumb to the whispers of the church. I found the direct reflection between Annelle and Shelby—Annelle finding life and marriage while Shelby faces the end—to be a fascinating device. It highlights the “what if” of Shelby’s life, making Annelle’s growth both hopeful and haunting.

Miranda Jane (Truvy) - Jane played Truvy with a comfort that drew you in as swiftly as homemade gumbo. She was a whirlwind of Southern charm and a doting parental figure, creating a space that welcomed both wonder and woe. Her delivery of lines like, “Crying through tears is my favorite emotion,” felt earned, not just performative. She understood that Truvy is the glue, the diffuser, and the heartbeat of the salon.

Laurie Pascale (Clairee) - Wickedly hilarious and snarky, Pascale had me nearly on the floor. A woman whose life has been filled with everything, now left with only time to fill, she navigated Clairee’s world with such ease. She was the one who could bite back, but whose “teeth” were always reserved for protecting those she loved. I was enamored with how effortlessly she held space for her friends’ worries and wants.

Louisa Mauzé (Shelby) - Mauzé’s Shelby was sunshine incarnate. She never strayed too far from the dreams of the life she was chasing, even as her physical health began to mirror the strain of her ambitions. It is a difficult line to walk—being the “sweet” heart of the show while portraying someone fighting against their own body—but Mauzé kept her head high, propped up by a smile that felt genuinely hopeful.

Jane Morgan Balgavy (M’Lynn) - Words bold enough to describe this performance don’t come easy. Entering the stage with an unwilling ability to give up the role of protector, Balgavy delivered an arc that culminated in one of the most tear-filled, raw monologues I’ve seen in this community. To watch the delivery of the subject of losing a child—a grief I know many in our own circle have experienced—was breathtaking. She deserves every ounce of applause for a masterclass in vulnerability.

Alanna Hamill Newton (Ouiser) - I was obsessed with Newton’s Ouiser. The “semi-psychotic neighbor” may be a trope, but Newton made it feel like an accurate personification of how many of us react to a changing world. My favorite moments were when that wall of the “individual” melted into the collective, softening her rougher hide to a lush coat of care. “I’m not crazy, I’ve just been in a bad mood for 40 years,” landed with a weight that felt deeply modern.

I went in expecting the quick-witted comedy. I wasn’t prepared for how hard it would hit when the script tackled childbirth, physical health, and the death of someone so young.

There is a moment in the penultimate chapter that will stick with me. M’Lynn, recounting the men in her life retreat from the hospital room where her daughter lay dying, delivers a line that cut through the entire theatre: “Men are supposed to be made of steel.”

It’s a line that feels heavier than it did in the 80s. It perfectly encompasses the pain women are often put through, whether asked or not, and the strength they possess to make the most difficult journeys in life alone.

My Reflections

As I left, I found myself asking about our own community. How do we show up for each other in the joy-filled days? And more importantly, how do we show up when the steel of our friends begins to bend?

If this is how The Rep is kicking off their 50th season, I am beyond thrilled. This is a celebration of local talent and those returning home from beyond our borders.

Tickets are still available for the rest of their season, and I highly recommend grabbing yours before they’re gone.

Official Release provided by The Arkansas Repertory Theater.

ABOUT THE PLAY:

Truvy Jones runs a successful beauty salon in Chinquapin, Louisiana, where all the ladies in the neighborhood have a standing Saturday appointment. Along with her anxious and eager assistant, Annelle, Truvy styles the hair of many of the women about town: wealthy widow and former first lady of Chinquapin, Clairee Belcher, local curmudgeon Ouiser Boudreaux (”I’m not crazy, I’ve just been in a bad mood for forty years”), intelligent and compassionate career woman M’Lynn, and her daughter Shelby, the prettiest girl in town.

Shelby’s engagement is the talk of the town, but the joy and excitement of her wedding quickly turn to concern as she faces a risky pregnancy and a myriad of health complications. As the women of Chinquapin make their ways over life’s many hurdles together, they find comfort (and a fair amount of verbal ribbing) in one another. “You have no idea how wonderful you are,” M’Lynn tells the ladies at the end of the play. Truvy responds, with a smile, “Of course we do.”

Rated PG for adult situations.

First produced Off-Broadway in 1987, Steel Magnolias quickly became one of the most beloved plays in the American theatre canon. Written by Robert Harling as a tribute to his sister, Susan Harling Robinson, the play was inspired by his family’s experience following Susan’s battle with complications related to Type 1 diabetes.

In 1989, Harling adapted the play into the acclaimed feature film starring Sally Field, Julia Roberts, Dolly Parton, Shirley MacLaine, Olympia Dukakis, and Daryl Hannah. Filmed on location in Harling’s hometown of Natchitoches, Louisiana, the movie introduced the story to millions and cemented Steel Magnolias as a cultural touchstone.

Nearly four decades after its premiere, Steel Magnolias continues to captivate audiences around the world with its unique blend of laughter and tears, proving that strength and tenderness are not opposites, but two sides of the same magnolia blossom.

Harling completed the first draft in just ten days, channeling his grief into a story that celebrates his sister’s wit, courage, and indomitable spirit. The result is a deeply personal and universally resonant portrait of women whose relationships sustain them through life’s most joyful and heartbreaking moments.

ABOUT THE ARTISTS:

The Rep’s production features an ensemble of Arkansas artists including Miranda Jane (Designing Women, Into the Woods at The Rep) as “Truvy”, Grace Pitts (Elf, Mary Poppins at The Rep) as “Annelle”, Laurie Pascale (The Glass Menagerie at The Rep) as “Clairee”, Louisa Mauzé (Hair, Guys & Dolls at The Rep) as “Shelby”, Jane Morgan Balgavy as “M’Lynn”, and Alanna Hamill Newton (Pride & Prejudice, Ann at The Rep) as “Ouiser”.

The production is directed by Christine O’Grady (Hair at The Rep), working alongside André de Castro (Scenic Designer), Michael Ciaramitaro (Costume Designer), Faith Spencer (Lighting Designer), Multiband Studios (Sound Designer), Jenea Jordan (Wig & Hair Designer), and Luisa Ann Torres (Production Stage Manager).

“PAY-WHAT-YOU-CAN” NIGHTS FOR STEEL MAGNOLIAS:

The Arkansas Repertory Theatre is excited to announce The “Pay-What-You-Can” preview performances for Steel Magnolias. Patrons are invited to the Tuesday, May 26th and Wednesday, May 27th preview performances by paying any amount they wish for tickets. Tickets must be purchased in person at the Box Office at 601 Main Street on Tuesday, May 26th from 9 a.m. to 10:30 a.m.. For each show, there will be 100 tickets available for purchase across all two performances. Tickets are limited to two per person and are first-come, first-served.

“Pay-What-You-Can” preview performances are sponsored by the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette.

THE REP’S 2026 SUMMERSTAGE SEASON:

2026 SummerStage Season

Steel Magnolias | May 26 – June 7

Ain’t Misbehavin’| June 16-28

Joseph & the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat| July 8-26

The Remarkable Resignation of Dr. Joycelyn Elders | August 11-23

Side by Side by Sondheim | September 8-20

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It has been a massive week for the Central Arkansas theatre scene. From big wins on the national stage to some truly exciting casting news, there is a lot to catch up on. Here is what’s happening around the community.

Broadway Bound: Heading to NYC

Huge congratulations are in order for Collin Carlton (Pulaski Academy) and Annie Zimmerman (Episcopal Collegiate). They were recently named the Broadway Bound Awards winners and are officially headed to New York City to represent us at the 2026 Jimmy Awards. Collin is returning for a second year after attending with Sascha Bass in 2025, while Annie is making her first appearance. It’s a joy to see these young actors making waves on the biggest pre-college stage in the country. We’re all rooting for you!

One Night Only: American Son

This Thursday, May 14, Actors Theatre of Little Rock is hosting a staged reading of American Son. Directed by Dr. Nick Farr, this drama is a gripping look at race and identity, following a couple searching for answers about their missing son in a Florida police station. The cast is incredible, featuring Tyranni Hubbard, Thomas Williams, Chris Flowers, and Anthony L. Baker.

• When: Thursday, May 14 at 7:00 PM (Doors at 6:30)

• Tickets: $10 at actorstheatrelr.org/tickets

Summer Vibes in the Heights

ATLR also dropped the cast list for In The Heights, which runs June 10–27. This is going to be an immersive production, so you can choose between general or “on the block” seating to get close to the action. The cast features familiar favorites like Amaya Hardin and Fernanda Posadas, plus Jacob Rivera as Usnavi and Caelon Colbert returning to the stage as Benny. You can grab tickets now at actorstheatrelr.org/tickets.

Wildwood Park: Rain or Shine

Wildwood Park for the Arts has announced the cast for Singin’ in the Rain Sr., featuring a powerhouse group of actors aged 55 and up. I spotted so many people I adore on this list, including Chip McAfee, Mandy Warford, and even my former professor, Karen Kuralt. This is a dream show of mine, and I’m expecting a production full of heart and spectacle.

If you want to get on the Wildwood stage yourself, auditions for Shrek: The Musical are coming up on June 13 and 14 for actors 13 and older. Performance dates are set for November, so email casting@wildwoodpark.org with the subject “Shrek The Musical Audition” to snag a time slot.

A New Look at Shakespeare

The Weekend Theater is closing out its ‘25/’26 season with a gender-fluid production of The Taming of the Shrew. Directed by Darby Lytle, this adaptation looks like a fresh, unforgettable take on the classic battle of wits. The cast includes Katie Choate, Peyton Greenwood, and Lewis Dodd, among many other talented locals. The show runs June 5–21, and tickets are available at weekendtheater.org/tickets.

Join the Addams Family

Stage 13 is looking for its spooky clan! Audition registration is open for their October production of The Addams Family Musical at Wildwood Park. If you’ve ever wanted to channel your inner Gomez or Morticia, check out the full details and sign up at stage13.org/auditions.

Need a New Headshot?

If you’re gearing up for these upcoming auditions and realize your headshot is a few years out of date, I can help. I’m running a special through the end of May—$56 for natural, professional portraits. Reach out if you want to get something scheduled.

Write With Me

Finally, I want this Substack to grow into a space that reflects our whole community. If you’ve ever wanted to write a review, share a positive story about your experiences in local theatre, or highlight a specific part of our arts scene, I’m opening up the platform to guest contributors. I’d love to see this become a collaborative effort to keep uplifting the arts in Central Arkansas. Let me know if you’re interested!

A Community Confectionary

There is something almost magical about the charming “Dogtown Proud” Argenta District. This North Little Rock neighborhood has that familiar, “Hallmarkian,” small-town, where-everybody-knows-your-name vibe we all love. With its mix of modern gastropubs, local dive bars, and a pharmacy that feels straight out of the 1960s, Argenta is a melting pot of life, energy, and entertainment.

No place understands the heart of Argenta quite like the Argenta Contemporary Theatre (ACT). From its glowing lobby lights and art-filled walls to its polished atmosphere and full-service bar, ACT offers a perfect blend of community theatre charm and professional elevation.

Attending the Wednesday night performance of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, I was excited not only to see dear friends and colleagues perform but to witness the support of our local arts scene. From the moment I walked in, it was a “Who’s Who” of the local theatre community—all of us under one roof, sharing and experiencing the art together. The room buzzed with hugs, friendly salutations, and excited anticipation. As the lights flashed the final warning, the collective hum of voices transitioned into a shared, silent reverence. As the overture began and the classic “Candyman” motif rang through the room, we were ready for every bite of this “tooth-tickling, tongue-tastical” tale.

The Recipe for Roald Dahl

Roald Dahl’s storytelling is a complex recipe: a mix of melancholic malaise, fantastical foolishness, and whimsical wackiness, seasoned with dark humor and baked until golden brown. His themes often highlight triumph over circumstance and the importance of empathy in the face of apathy.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (written for the stage by David Greig with music/lyrics by Mark Shaiman and Scott Wittman) is the classic tale of the “meek inheriting the world.” Gus Howell stars as Charlie Bucket, a poverty-stricken, undernourished, and delightfully kind boy who loves to imagine. Despite living in a dilapidated house with his four bedridden grandparents—Grandpa George (Chip McAfee), Grandma Georgina (Jamie Boshears), Grandma Josephine (Susan Thomey), and Grandpa Joe (Mark Hansen)—and his hardworking mother (Abby Jo Windsor), Charlie never complains.

Instead, he dreams of making chocolate like the legendary Willy Wonka. When Wonka announces a contest to find five Golden Tickets hidden in chocolate bars, the world goes wild. One by one, the tickets are found by four “insufferable” children: the greedy Augustus Gloop, the bratty Veruca Salt, the fame-hungry Violet Beauregarde, and the tech-obsessed Mike Teavee.

Just as hope begins to fade, Charlie finds a stray dollar and buys a final Wonka Bar, discovering the last Golden Ticket. Alongside his miraculously rejuvenated Grandpa Joe, Charlie enters the factory. What follows is a dark and whimsical tour where the other children are “eliminated” by their own vices—sucked up fudge chutes or transformed into blueberries—until only Charlie remains. In the end, Wonka reveals that Charlie’s honesty and imagination were exactly what he was looking for in an heir.

Willy Wonka’s Wacky World

The man behind the chocolate, Willy Wonka, is played by Case Dillard. A staple of the local community with national credits (including Mary Poppins on Broadway), Dillard is no stranger to filling iconic shoes. He commanded the stage with a vintage, effortless lens, offering a flavor of Wonka we haven’t tasted before. As Dillard noted in an interview with ACT News, this version is full of surprises, and his performance certainly delivered.

As for Charlie, Gus Howell was a revelation. Having been in this community for over 25 years, I find it inspiring to see new talent emerge so brightly. Gus has “it.” His ability to conjure raw emotion is beyond his years, and his chemistry with the cast was paramount to the show’s success. He didn’t just “act” like Charlie; he lived the role, providing the beating heart that kept the audience wrapped in the story.

The Sweet and the Sour

The Bucket family was perfectly cast, providing the emotional foundation for Charlie’s character. Two performances stood out:

• Abby Jo Windsor (Mrs. Bucket): She gave a subtle, beautiful portrayal of a mother caught between encouraging her son’s dreams and protecting him from disappointment.

• Mark Hansen (Grandpa Joe): Hansen’s Grandpa Joe was hands-down my favorite character. He is Charlie’s cheerleader and confidant, pushing him to fly. Mark’s performance was a masterclass in staying grounded while conjuring “big feelings.”

The “sours”—the four other children and their parents—were wonderfully dynamic caricatures:

• Makenzie Burks (Veruca Salt): Stunning and impeccable, she provided the perfect “love to hate” energy.

• Evanee Dra’a Dokes (Violet Beauregarde): She commanded the stage and “took us to church” with her incredible vocals.

• Patti Airoldi (Mrs. Teavee): Hysterical, with 1960s housewife vibes and perfect comedic timing.

• Leigh Anne Ralston (Frau Gloop) & Peyton Greenwood (Augustus): A charming, bratwurst-loving pair that you couldn’t help but enjoy.

The show was rounded out by the incomparable Judy Trice as Mrs. Green, whose comedic timing with her “liquified vegetables” proved that less is often more. Finally, the ensemble and Oompa Loompas were “bodybuilder strong,” creating a world that felt unique and full of life.

A Fantastical Farewell

To me, theatre is about the love and dedication brought to the stage. A show succeeds if the cast loves the work and the audience has fun—and on both counts, this production is a triumph. I am proud to be part of this community and proud of the friends who put their hearts into this art.

Don’t miss your chance to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, running now through May 9th.

Tickets: www.argentacontemporarytheatre.org

Whether he is directing a cast or supporting a show from the ensemble, Bob’s perspective is defined by a deep respect for the “team” and a half-century of hard-earned experience. Here is his closing message to the next generation.

The Final Word: A Q&A with Bob Bidewell

What’s one thing a minor role or a backstage mishap taught you that a lead role never could?

In my 50-year career, I’ve had very few “lead roles!” Having played several minor characters and ensemble roles, I can say that you learn the art of patience, understanding, and a sense of community. As I tell any cast I direct: “If the ensemble sucks, the show sucks.” When I go to see a production—locally or on Broadway—my eye is always drawn to the ensemble and secondary characters. They are there for a reason!

In a community as tight-knit as Central Arkansas, what’s the best way for a young actor to build a “good name” for themselves off-stage?

The main thing I can offer is to support everyone in their endeavors. Don’t play the “diva.” Be a team player. Be kind! And—always thank your fellow cast members, staff, and crew.

What’s the one thing you wish you could tell your younger self right before walking into a high-stakes audition?

BE PREPARED. How many auditions did I “wing it” thinking I knew my 32 bars? How many times did I just think I was ready? Know your stuff. Walk through the door with confidence, tell them who you are, and lay it all out there. Don’t make excuses about a raspy voice, a sick cat, or being exhausted from work. Just do it! And when it’s over, thank them for their time.

When the lights go up and the nerves kick in, what is your personal trick for staying grounded?

To this day, I still get a horrible case of nerves and panic. Before the curtain rises, I find a quiet spot for deep breathing, vocal warmups, and tongue twisters. I meditate on tricky lines, say a few prayers, and tell myself: “You’ve got this. You are playing this character for a reason. Let’s go.”

What’s one thing about the Central Arkansas theatre scene that makes it feel like home to you?

I’ve done productions at just about every theatre in the area. I cannot think of one time where a cast or crew didn’t feel like a team. Some gel more than others, of course, but overall, we are very lucky to have such a great scene to be a part of.

If you could give a graduating high school senior just one piece of advice before their first “non-high school” production, what would it be?

The hardest part of leaving the comfort zone of high school is finding out you might be a “small rock in a big pond.” It’s a tough business. I hope you are prepared for the rejections and the “no thank you” responses. It sounds harsh, but it’s a rude awakening for everyone. How do you prepare for that? A good attitude. Persistence. Don’t give up. Audition for every show you can!

Bob’s journey reminds us that the longevity of a career isn’t measured by the size of the roles, but by the depth of the commitment. As we wrap up this series, his call for preparation and kindness serves as the perfect final note for any performer looking to make Central Arkansas their home.

Thailand was a dream.

At least, it feels that way. Like some long forgotten memory already fading from the edges of my mind.

But having gone and returned, I feel changed.

Rejuvenated.

Revitalized.

I cannot wait to get back into the swing of things.

I cannot wait to see all of my friends as they bring a year of great theatre to life.

Here’s to being back home.

And here’s to the version of me still in Thailand, wandering streets at sunrise and enjoying only the freshest coconut and mango around.

Glad to be back, y’all.

Next up, a review of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory tonight!

PS. A HUGE THANK YOU TO THOMAS, CHUCK, AND SUMMER FOR WRITING SUCH AMAZING REVIEWS IN MY STEAD! I hope that you’ll continue to have a passion for sharing your thoughts on theatre and join me down the line for shows I cannot see.

AND AN ESPECIALLY HUGE THANK YOU TO PEYTON, WHO EVEN DURING THEIR PERFORMANCES AND REHEARSALS MANAGED TO KEEP UP THIS SUBSTACK WHILE I WAS AWAY!! I LOVE YOUUUUUUU :)

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And so, I sat in my chair on opening night, expecting to experience supreme silliness and some great performances. I’m pleased to say both expectations were met with flying colors! Also present was relevant social commentary directly in line with the Weekend Theater’s stated priority to produce works “of social significance”- as promised in the curtain speech from Weekend’s Artistic Director (and director of this production) David Weatherly.

“A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder” (music by Steven Lutvak, lyrics by Lutvak and Robert L. Freedman, and a book by Freedman) is filled with wild circumstances and convoluted relationships, but thankfully the premise is actually quite simple. It tells the story of a poor man, Monty Navarro, who discovers he is eighth in the line of succession to become the next Earl of Highhurst. It is not long before he decides that, naturally, the proper course of action for him is to dispose of all the D’Ysquith family members in his way and become the Earl himself. The word “murder” is in the title, what did you expect!

This material lives and dies (pun fully intended) on the characters of Monty Navarro and the D’Ysquith family. As soon as they were on stage, it was apparent we were in good hands with Caleb Purtle and Liam Macqueen- both appearing in almost every single scene of the show.

Purtle anchored the show as Monty- he is responsible in each scene for making sure the story is being communicated, while also managing intensely acrobatic dialogue and lyrics. Not to mention, he has the unenviable task of making us root for a man who is, to put it plainly….a serial killer. Purtle has a great voice, and exudes comfort on stage. Even when dealing with some opening night technical hiccups (yay live theatre!), he quickly recovered and delivered a standout performance.

Liam Macqueen had a wildly different, but just as difficult task- playing all the members of the D’Ysquith family, with their varying ages, personalities, and genders. With each one, Macqueen brought specificity and hilarity. Watching him bring each unique character to life was a joy, and even more fun was watching him bring them to death. Whether falling through ice or dealing with a freak weightlifting accident, Macqueen commits to each death with impressive gusto.

However, as the title of the show states, it is not just about murder, but also love. Enter our leading ladies- Sibella (Lisa Edge) and Phoebe (Gabrielle Neafsay). These are two extremely different women in temperament and position (effectively highlighted by the costume design). They only have one thing in common- they both love Monty. This predicament provides plenty of comedic and dramatic material for the show, including one of the highlights of the night, as Monty gets caught (literally) between the two women and hijinks ensue. Edge as Sibella brings a sweet voice and great comedic timing. Her one-liners at a particularly awkward dinner scene had me howling. Neafsay is always great, and this role is no exception- getting to show off both her soaring soprano and her top-notch comic acting.

The ensemble all did wonderfully, committing to all the over-the-top silliness in the best way. There isn’t space to call attention to all my favorite bits from the ensemble, but I do want to give a shout out to Jacolby Crossley, who has several stand-out comedic moments and was always giving 110%.

There’s nothing wrong with a show using tracks, but it always increases my respect when the work is put in to give the audience live music. The band, led by Music Director Anne Weaver, sounded great throughout and elevated the show.

The set and props were simple, but effective. With regards to the set, I appreciated the restraint of waiting two thirds of the way through the show before revealing that the set has the ability to transform. It is easy to imagine the use of this all throughout the show, but instead it is used only when needed- which increased its impact when it was utilized.

As mentioned above, underneath all the goofiness, there are some serious themes exploring classism and the injustices of the upper class. Just to give one example, the act 2 opening song, “Why are all the D’Ysquith’s Dying?”, highlights the tragedy of these deaths while pointing out that the lives these elites have led leaves no one particularly sad to see them gone. One does not have to think far into our past to identify similar discussions playing out in our world.

A comedy fails or succeeds on whether it makes you laugh- and laugh I did! So, if you are like me, and the sight of a man rolling around being stung to death by bees makes you giggle, then I highly encourage you to catch Weekend theater’s production of “A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder”, playing now through May 3rd!

“How come you ain’t never liked me?” Cory asks his father Troy very matter-of-factly. The answer he’s given illustrates the core struggle of Fences - a struggle between love, bitterness, and long-held anger. August Wilson’s Fences, a searing domestic drama depicting the struggles of the Maxsons, a Black family in 1950s Pittsburgh, is a seminal work in American theatre. It has received the star-studded treatment on both stage and screen since its theatrical premiere, and has remained firmly in the consciousness of theatregoers for more than four decades.

It seemed only a matter of time before Actors Theatre of Little Rock, known in the community for their creative and fearless productions, would take their swing at Fences. I am proud to report that that time has come, and ATLR has, once again, delivered a stirring and powerful piece of theatre.

This is a strong, well-conceived production, and one that, under the direction of Keith Harper and Quinton Sanders, captures the pain, humor, and complexity of Wilson’s text. Harper and Sanders’ staging is organic and innovative and builds beautifully to the ingenious final moments of the show. A detailed and creative production design immerses us in Wilson’s 1950s Pittsburgh from the moment we enter the space. The music, wonderful period cuts intermixed with baseball play-by-play and designed by Allison Austin, plays as if emanating from an old transistor radio. The costumes, designed by Jayla Lee, feel lived-in and integral to the lives of the characters. Nicholas Bius’ lighting design is moody and subtle, and effectively employs shadow and color to highlight emotion without being distracting. And Danny Grace’s scenic design is a triumph. It is colorful, yet tinged with just enough dinginess to feel real; intimate, though still evoking an expansive urban scope; and creative in how it invites us into the Maxson’s backyard. Overall, the period work achieved by the designers of this production is stellar.

T. Dion Burns, as Negro Leagues baseball star turned garbage man, Troy Maxson, is the anchor of the show. Burns gives a charismatic performance, one that effectively balances the bitterness and sadness within the character. This is an extremely challenging role and requires an actor who can be simultaneously unlikeable and vulnerable - Burns achieves this. Belinda Devine, as the long-suffering matriarch Rose Maxson, is calm, patient, and controlled. Devine’s performance provides the necessary counter to Troy’s bombasticness. She understands and accepts Troy, but has her limits, and the moment she finally calls him to task is miraculous to watch. Curtis Hardaway, as Cory, brings a quiet dignity to the character. Cory struggles to maintain a youthful optimism in the face of Troy’s near constant cynical worldview. That he has all but accepted that his father doesn’t like him is heartbreaking and Hardaway’s performance captures this wonderfully.

The cast is rounded out by a group of terrific actors who all bring something dynamic and powerful to the action. David House, as Jim Bono, does well to find the humor in the text, and brings a natural chemistry to his moments with Burns. Willie Lucius is a burst of energy every time he steps on stage. As Lyons, Troy’s grown musician son from a previous relationship, Lucious gives us a man determined to live a life of joy in spite of a father who finds little of it. Though her time on stage is brief, Kinsley Washington delivers an endearing performance as Raynelle, Troy’s youngest child. She brings an easy charisma to the role. Donald Jackson’s work as Gabe, Troy’s war-wounded brother, is nothing short of incredible. Jackson infuses the characters with a childlike and joyous spirit. A brain injury from the war has affected Gabe’s mental capacity - he roams the neighborhood with his trumpet selling plums and chasing hell-hounds - but Jackson does not play this as a disability and infuses the role with a touching humanity.

ATLR’s production of Fences is excellent, and not to be missed. The directors, designers, cast, and crew of this show have created something remarkable. This is an affecting, insightful, and intense rendering of a theatre classic. As one who is active in the local theatre scene, I have come to expect greatness from ATLR. I have yet to be disappointed.

For this family, theatre isn’t just about the applause, it’s about the faith developed through the process and the courage to find a voice after being quiet for so long.

Q&A with Reese

What was the “lightbulb moment” when you realized you loved being on stage?

I knew I wanted to act since Pre-K, but it wasn’t until I did my first show at eight years old—Charlotte’s Web at AMFA in 2018—that I really knew this was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.

What is one skill you learned in class that helps you in your “real life” at school?

Improv has helped me so much with socializing. I used to be very closed off and quiet because I was scared of saying the wrong thing. Improv taught me how to be more comfortable in interactions and helped me know what to say.

If you could play any character on any Central Arkansas stage, who would it be?

I’m drawn to tragedy and stories that make you think—shows that give a voice to the people who have been dismissed. I’d love to play characters like Eliza from Hamilton or Cherry from The Outsiders.

What is the funniest thing that has happened during a rehearsal?

When I played Dory in Finding Nemo, I had to get “stung by a jellyfish” and fall safely onto my back. During one run in tech week, I landed right on my mic pack and the whole system started making a horrifying cracking noise. It was scary then, but I can laugh about it now!

Q&A with Janelle

What is the biggest change you’ve seen in Reese’s confidence?

I love the word confidence because it means living life “with faith” (con fide). I’ve watched Reese grow in her faith in the process, her skills, and the relationships she’s built. Her confidence has grown in her ability to view rejection not as a character trait or her identity, but simply as an experience. We are so grateful for the programs at AMFA, The Royal, Argenta, Stage 13, and Parkview for helping her navigate those ups and downs.

How do you survive “Tech Week” as a family?

Whew, tech week! We try to be as involved and supportive as possible. Planning for snacks and meals is a big help—having a “go bag” with protein and water is essential. We try to prioritize sleep, though that’s easier said than done, and we stay flexible for those days when she practically lives at the theatre.

Why is it important for kids in Central Arkansas to have access to the performing arts?

The performing arts allow for creativity and the idea that life is more than just practicality. It provides a place to belong, a “theatre family,” and the chance to learn how to navigate both success and disappointment in a central, safe space.

What was your proudest moment watching Reese perform?

I love to see her shine, but I’m proudest of what goes on behind the scenes. Watching her lean into her growth areas instead of thinking she’s “not good enough” makes me proud. We often discuss how she is a performer as long as she continues to put herself out there and doesn’t give up.

Janelle and Reese’s journey highlights a beautiful truth about our local scene: theatre is a training ground for life. Whether it’s learning to fall safely on a mic pack or learning to view a “no” as a stepping stone, these lessons stay with a student long after the set is struck.

Brooke Wallace is a familiar face on local stages, known for her professionalism and consistency. Marcia McConkie brings the sharp, practical perspective of a Choral Director at Mount St. Mary Academy, ensuring the next generation of performers is as prepared as they are talented.

Here is their “masterclass” on the mindset and etiquette required to make it in the Central Arkansas theatre scene.

Q&A with Brooke Wallace

What’s one thing a minor role or a backstage mishap taught you that a lead role never could?

As my high school drama teacher would often quote from Stanislavski, “There are no small parts, only small actors.” It takes every person involved to create magic on stage, and even the smallest role is integral to a show’s success. I have always remembered that and treated even my smallest roles as if I were the lead.

In a community as tight-knit as Central Arkansas, what’s the best way for a young actor to build a “good name” for themselves off-stage? Be kind. Be easy to work with! Be flexible and be a team player. There are many talented people who are difficult to work with, and how you act off-stage can often be the deciding factor in whether or not you get the gig. Ultimately, being a good human is just as essential as your talent.

What’s the one thing you wish you could tell your younger self right before walking into a high-stakes audition?

What do you have to lose? Remember—you can never fail OR succeed unless you try! And it’s not always about you. There are several factors that go into creating a cast; sometimes you can nail your audition perfectly, but there is another reason you don’t get the part. Just walk into every audition like you already have the role.

Q&A with Marcia McConkie

In your experience, what are the most important “unwritten rules” of being a great castmate?

I have three top rules I share with my students:

1. For all that is good and holy, wear deodorant! I don’t care if you applied in the morning. Apply again. Costume change? Reapply. Everyone sweats more under stage lights, in costumes, and with nerves involved. Do not be the stinky cast member. It is incredibly rude to your fellow castmates, and trust me—the audience can smell you, too.

2. Know your lines, blocking, and choreography. Don’t stress out your fellow castmates and make them wonder if they can count on you or if they’ll have to carry you.

3. It’s not all about you. When choosing a dressing room spot, consider the entire cast. Who has the most costume changes? Who needs the most space? Be considerate. Clean up your space, don’t leave trash for others, and share your bobby pins and hairspray if a castmate is in need.

If you could give a graduating high school senior just one piece of advice before their first “adult” production, what would it be? Know your instrument.

Do you know your tessitura and your vocal range? What genres of music do you sing well? What are your weaknesses? Build your repertoire accordingly and audition for roles where you can really shine. You will be a lot more confident going into your audition and increase your chances of being cast.

Whether it’s Brooke’s reminder to “play it like a lead” or Marcia’s very practical insights, these model voices for the community remind us that the best performers are the ones who respect the craft, the space, and their peers.