Review: Crisp, Bracing 'OCTET' at Wilbury Theatre Group

In a nondescript church basement on a rainy evening, eight strangers gather for a support group unlike any other. Playwright Dave Malloy has conjured them here to sing away their "Monster," and this outstanding production of his 2019 work Octet at the Wilbury offers a thoughtful, polished look at the twists and turns that follow.

Octet, Malloy’s intricately structured a cappella chamber musical, follows eight participants--each struggling with their "monster," a particular internet or tech addiction--as they tell their personal stories through song. Structured as a series of “shares” framed by group "hymns," the show borrows the shape of both twelve-step meetings and tarot cards, exploring the deep psychological, spiritual, and communal ruptures created by our digital lives.

As the ensemble drifts in out of the rain, they pick up sheet music and come together for an opening hymn about a pre-technological forest where "my head was clean and clear" and "I danced like a beautiful fool." Malloy's score is gorgeous, and the ensemble execute it with precision and style. Right from the jump this puts to rest any question you might have about the high-wire walk of a mostly sung-through a cappella show. The harmonies and counterpoint are spot on.

We meet the cast almost entirely through their songs, introduced 12-step style with the  stock "I'm an addict" and a pitch pipe. Jessica (Chelsea Aubert) relives her viral online infamy. Henry (Jason Quinn) confesses to a candy-themed mobile gaming compulsion. Paula (Helena Tafuri) reflects on screen addiction and emotional estrangement. Karly (Naomi Tyler) and Ed (Michael Yussef Greene) share an outstanding duet juxtaposing app-based dating and toxic male spaces--appropriately, in a song called "Solo," which director Josh Short has staged quite cleverly. Toby (Alexander Boyle) dips into redpill rabbit holes, Marvin (Jason Cabral) takes us on a wild science-fictional ride into doubt and digital truth, and Velma (Jenna Benzinger) tries to recover spiritual authenticity. The performances and vocals are uniformly strong. Providence audiences will have seen most of these actors before, and here, they are all at the top of their game.

There are a couple of group numbers: an engagingly contrapuntal fugue about contingency, an extended energetic piece that figures technology as a numinous "monster," and a soothing closing hymn that attempts to situate us back in, if not the Garden of Eden, at least a neighboring zip code.

Josh Short's direction is thoughtful and grounded where it needs to be -- the authenticity of these characters is essential, and he stages the work with unobtrusive but careful movement (with moments of delightful choreography by Ali Kenner Brodsky). This provides the necessary emotional ballast for the wild excursions the songs take us on, which are a visual and aural delight. Music director Milly Massey has coached the ensemble to fine effect; the complex individual parts never overwhelm, but rather blend flawlessly. Monica Shinn's sturdy and detailed set and Andy Russ's sound and lighting are executed seamlessly and feature moments of evocative visualization (the occasionally straying square follow spot was a mild distraction). 

What makes Octet so potent—as with other overt cautionary tales like The Days of Wine and Roses or the works of Bertolt Brecht, is its understanding that extremity reveals the contours of the everyday. These aren't grotesques or pariahs; they are us, or just a few clicks removed. The show’s effectiveness lies in how uncomfortably recognizable each “addiction” becomes.

It's a show that both critiques and enacts its central concern. Musically, Malloy mirrors psychological form: obsessive loops rendered in canon, spiraling breakdowns mapped onto fugues. Octet doesn’t just sound complex—it’s structured like the minds it portrays. Malloy's book also builds in resonant symbolic layers. Each character represents a tarot-card (which Costume Designer Dustin Thomas has cleverly nodded to in many of the outfits). 

It is a text which rewards precisely the kind of obsessive attention it appears to critique. There are blink-and-you'll-miss-it details: a background binary chant (which decodes to the word "hug"), A URL spelled out in song (rendered by Short as a QR code in the program--follow it; you won't be let down.) The text threads together contemporary gamer slang ("kek") with Aristophanes, namechecks science fiction writer Arthur C. Clarke and spirtualist eccentric Aleister Crowley, and even explicitly references the Hinchi vision quest from Ken Russell's "Altered States."

If that sounds a bit cerebral--well, yes, it is. And you'll know if you're the right audience. There is a certain kind of theatre-goer willing to meet a show on its own terms, engage intellectually, and perhaps puzzle a bit. Granted, some of the critique may sound like the familiar pop sociology of Jonathan Haidt and Nicholas Carr, almost quaint in today's world of ubiquitous AI. And if you're the sort of musical fan who wants a recognizable "I Want" song and a killer eleven-o'clock number, this may not be your perfect fit. But if you're willing to lean in, the reward is real. Octet is bracing, strange, and formally adventurous, and this fine production is very much worth your time. Recommended.

Octet, directed by Josh Short, Wilbury Theatre Group, 475 Valley St, Providence, Thurs-Sun Dec. 11-21; 7pm evenings, 2pm Sun matinee. Tickets (pay what you can) $18-$38, available at https://thewilburygroup.org/tickets.html ​or box office (401) 400-7100. More info: info@thewilburygroup.org

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