Review: THE NOTEBOOK - THE MUSICAL Floats Into OC's Segerstrom Center

Adapted from Nicholas Sparks' ubiquitous 1996 novel (and its popular 2004 film iteration featuring Rachel McAdams and Ryan Gosling), THE NOTEBOOK - THE MUSICAL re-stages a generational love story into a quietly sweeping, memory-fractured stage romance that subtly promotes emotional accumulation over plot novelty. Now on stage at OC's Segerstrom Center for the Arts, this 2024 three-time Tony-nominated Broadway musical's first national tour continues performances in Costa Mesa through February 8, 2026.

Featuring a book by playwright Bekah Brunstetter (a scribe on the similarly heart-tugging TV series This Is Us) and a folk-music-inflected score by singer/songwriter Ingrid Michaelson (reminiscent of ballad-heavy scores from shows like BRIGHT STAR and THE BRIDGES OF MADISON COUNTY), this purposely hushed stage musical iteration of the best-selling novel seeks to elevate a familiar romantic narrative into a purposely tearjerking meditation on the fragility of memory, the crippling hold of regret, the euphoria of enduring love, and the inexorable erosion of time.

Does it succeed in its goal? For the most part, the answer is yes—but with a few caveats.

Staged with, I must admit, a quieter, though often hypnotic structure that is undeniably ambitious yet unabashedly cognizant of its manipulations, the story itself remains largely unchanged from its source material, hewing closely to Sparks' original arc and emotional beats, even when the theatrical medium might have benefited it with deeper introspection or a more groundbreaking reinvention. 

The biggest narrative difference, of course, between this stage adaptation and its widely-seen film version—besides casting multiple actors in the same two main roles simultaneously on stage—is the stage version's lack of a "big reveal" ending, with the musical putting Allie's ongoing memory loss upfront, perhaps assuming that those coming to experience this stage version already know beforehand about the film's twist ending.

Surprisingly, though, the second act is actually much more riveting than its laboring, exposition-heavy first act, which—whether purposely or not—will likely leave audiences feeling satisfyingly swooning and swept up by its warm hug of an ending.

Co-directed by Michael Greif (RENT, DEAR EVAN HANSEN, HELL'S KITCHEN) and Schele Williams (THE WIZ, which concluded its run on this very stage just last week), THE NOTEBOOK unfolds calmly across three temporal planes that traverse decades—embodied by three visually distinct actor pairings of its central lovers Noah and Allie. 

Its core narrative is anchored by present-day elderly Noah (the superb Beau Gravitte) reading aloud a romantic love story from a time-worn notebook (oh, hey, that's the show's title!) to his Alzheimer's-stricken wife, the elder Allie (the riveting Sharon Catherine Brown) who, sadly, doesn't recognize him anymore. Noah—himself plagued with age-related ailments of his own—has chosen to reside in the same assisted living care facility that has been the home of his wife ever since her condition worsened, hoping his constant companionship and story sharing will spark recollections of the past. 

This framing device—older Noah reading their story from a notebook to Allie in hopes of it triggering her memories of who she is and who he is—bathes the musical in bittersweet inevitability, allowing the audience to witness their sweeping romance both as it blooms and as it slowly fades. 

Cue the tissues.

From there, the narrative oscillates between youthful passion, middle-aged regret, and late-life devotion, tracing the lovers' initial summer romance as impulsive young dreamers, to their class-driven separation, and, eventually, their woohoo!-inducing rain-soaked reunion (the inclusion of recreating that iconic scene from the film is a must and am glad it was included here). 

To further illustrate this bit of time-spanning gravitas, the musical employs a little strategic theatrical magic by showcasing different actors playing the show's two main characters through these three criss-crossing time periods. Depending on your willingness to suspend this idea of parallel actors across past and present literally standing next to each other, it can come off as either utterly silly or utterly poetic. 

For me, it's mostly the latter… mostly because I understand what this show isn't trying to hide. 

Thus, aside from the present-day eldest iterations of Noah and Allie living at the nursing home, we also witness Noah and Allie as young headstrong teens played endearingly by Kyle Mangold and Chloë Cheers, respectively, and as their later "middle"-aged counterparts (well, likely in their late 20's/early 30's maybe) played with impressive vocal and acting chops by Ken Wulf Clark and Alysha Deslorieux, respectively. The effect can be both mesmerizing and overwhelming at the same time as the actors weave and in and out of ethereal flashbacks.

The production relies heavily on this emotional parallelism—scenes echoing across time with, occasionally, characters occupying the same physical space despite temporal distance—in an effort to actualize the mechanics of memory onstage and, in a not-so-subtle way, illustrate its jumbled-up, sometimes unreliable nature, further hampering Noah's ultimate goal to make Allie remember. 

Rather than relying on higher stakes and melodramatic plot twists, the stage adaptation opts to lean into these hushed emotional echoes, allowing scenes and characters to overlap across decades with whispers rather than screams, reinforcing the notion that memory itself is the show's true antagonist.

What follows is a familiar but carefully layered chronicle of a touching love story: a summer romance that ignites between a working-class Southern boy and a privileged young woman, followed by a cruel separation enforced by class expectations and the onslaught of an overseas war (talked about but not seen), which then facilitates years of longing between parallel lives, leading to an eventual reunion that tests whether love can truly outlast time, trauma, and choice. 

What distinguishes THE NOTEBOOK - THE MUSICAL from countless romantic adaptations is not its story—well-worn, unsurprising, and unapologetically sentimental—but its structural ambition and its emotional restraint. 

Brunstetter's book resists easy theatricality, opting instead for a more introspective fluidity. Thus water becomes a recurring visual motif throughout the show. 

Scenes dissolve rather than end. Dialogue is spare but intentional. And moments of heartbreak are allowed to sit in silence rather than be underscored with bombast. It's a risky approach, but one that, I find, ultimately serves the adaptation's attempt at quiet, emotional honesty, even if it settles merely towards achieving approachable, pleasant melancholy.

Visually, as touring Broadway shows go, the musical is a great example of excellent stage craftsmanship, from the scenic designs from David Zinn and Brett J. Banakis and the gorgeous lighting designed by Ben Stanton, to the lived-in authenticity of Paloma Young's costumes. Even with just the sight of multiple simplistic light rods that descend from above, the show, overall, feels like a luxe production (and did I mention they recreated that rain scene from the movie?!)

Michaelson's ballad-heavy songbook, though not particularly memorable on the onset, is the production's subtle MVP. Rooted in acoustic textures, gentle harmonies, and lyrical introspection, the music rarely insists upon itself. Instead, it permeates into the storytelling like a brief memory recalled unexpectedly—sometimes incomplete, sometimes devastatingly precise. The tender songs function less as traditional showstoppers and more as emotional punctuation, capturing the ache of yearning, the terror of letting go, and the fragile hope embedded in enduring love. 

While some may crave more theatrically-assertive musical numbers, the restraint here feels intentional, mirroring the story's low-key intimacy. One exception: "Middle" Allie's emotional 11 o'clock ballad "My Days" definitely charges forward as musical theatre catnip, serving not only as a declarative anthem for the character but as a vocal showcase for the amazing Deslorieux's unmistakable talents.

But perhaps the production's most effective choice is its tripartite casting for its core pair, allowing Noah and Allie to exist simultaneously across time. This theatrical conceit reinforces the musical's central thesis: that love is not a singular moment but an accumulation of various choices, compromises, and shared pain. Watching the pair's younger selves stumble through passion while their older counterparts bear witness lends the show a haunting inevitability, transforming even the most romantic scenes into preludes of loss.

That said, THE NOTEBOOK - THE MUSICAL is not without its palpable limitations. 

Its deliberate lower-key pacing—particularly in the first act—occasionally borders on languid, and audiences seeking high theatrical spectacle, sweeping musical climaxes and breathless dance numbers, or explosive visuals may find the experience a bit too understated. 

For all its polish and evident sincerity, the show can sometimes feel perfectly content to just coast on the audience's preexisting emotional investment in the source material rather than challenging or reexamining it, particularly considering this production's laudable, intentional color-blind casting which could have potentially added additional, timely layers of deep context to the central pair's initial courtship.

Brunstetter's dialogue and the co-directors' staging choices are purposely restrained, but that restraint sometimes results in scenes that feel dramatically inert, offering moody atmosphere without sufficient narrative escalation. This is especially egregious during the first act which felt like, well, just a whole bunch of exposition crammed into spoken words rather than shown actions. 

It would have been nice to actually see—even briefly—Noah's time in Vietnam. I would have enjoyed a brief glimpse of Allie thriving in college or meeting and falling for her fiancé (Jesse Corbin) to add needed context to her impromptu reunion with Noah right before her wedding. 

The alarmingly underutilized ensemble cast—while sounding exceptionally harmonious singing backstage accompanied by the gorgeous-sounding orchestra under the baton of musical director Tina Faye—are hardly seen on stage except for an occasional walk-on with a prop or as background extras. Their final number—when everyone is seen actually singing together—does prove to be quite a powerful ending moment, sure, but it's hardly worth sacrificing their fuller presence throughout the show.

A few cast standouts do, however, emerge besides the three pairs of actors that play Noah and Allie. I really enjoyed the adorkable twink vibe brought on by Connor Richardson's snarky Johnny, the Physical Therapist assigned to help out Older Noah. Anne Tolpegin's dual turn as Allie's Mom and Nurse Lori were both memorable and distinctive. And Rayna Hickman excels as Nurse Joanna, a sympathetic caregiver also working at the assisted living facility.

And while the older personas of Noah and Allie do provide enough emotional gravity, their younger iterations—tasked with generating the supposed spark that justifies a lifetime of mutual devotion—can, at times, feel a little underwritten, revealing a romance story that's, sure, dutifully tender and even eventually satisfying, but with a curiously muted urgency, diluting the story's foundational stakes. To their credit, however, Clark, Deslorieux, Mangold, and Cheers all give their respective portrayals a recognizable excellence both vocally and acting-wise that far transcends the material they're given.

But perhaps my most significant complaint about this stage adaptation is its over-reliance on the idea of inevitability. By laying out what to expect with the advanced age couple from the outset, the musical removes much of the tension that might otherwise keep its narrative interesting. We are told, early and often, that this kind of love, even in the face of rapid aging, somehow endures—so the intervening struggles, heartbreaks, and choices rarely feel that urgent. Rather than discovering the durability of love through action, the audience is asked simply to accept it as a given. The only mystery left is whether or not Allie will have a moment of clarity long enough to remember their love story.

Be that as it may, overall, THE NOTEBOOK - THE MUSICAL genuinely aspires to poignancy. Its craft is evident. Its intentions are earnest. The resulting show feels emotionally safe, dramatically cautious, and, maybe… just a bit incomplete. 

But in its valiant attempt to preserve the tenderness of Sparks' beloved story, the musical neglects the very theatrical boldness that might have justified its retelling. Like a memory recalled too carefully, this stage adaptation is beautifully rendered, but is frustratingly unwilling to risk the messiness that makes love stories truly unforgettable.

Yet to fault the show for what it intentionally avoids would be to misunderstand its grander purpose: this is not a musical designed to dazzle—it is one designed to linger.

To enjoy the show is to keep that grand purpose top-of-mind. So, after all is said and sung, THE NOTEBOOK - THE MUSICAL does indeed succeed not by reinventing romantic storytelling with shouts from the rooftops, but by honoring the genre with a genuine, grounded sincerity. This ultimately endearing musical trusts its audience to meet it halfway—to bring their own memories and losses into the theatre—and to recognize that the most profound love stories are rarely loud… they are hushed, patient, imperfect, and, yes, devastatingly human. 

Personally, what got to me much deeper than I anticipated was how much its eventual ending truly resonates—perhaps similarly with fellow audience members who either have aging parents in their lives (or are themselves), as well as with those who are feeling heartbreaking sadness themselves out of witnessing the kind of time-spanning romantic, passionate love that our main protagonists are fortunate enough to have experienced. Envy is indeed a powerful, lingering feeling.

Like the titular, handwritten notebook featured in the show itself—filled with scribbled memories and incomplete recollections that straddle both moments of happiness and moments of sorrow—the musical is less about what is written than about why we keep revisiting them—even when we already know how the story will end.

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Photos from the National Tour of THE NOTEBOOK - THE MUSICAL by © Roger Mastroianni, courtesy of Segerstrom Center for the Arts.

Performances of THE NOTEBOOK - THE MUSICAL continue at Segerstrom Center for the Arts in Costa Mesa, CA through February 8, 2026. Tickets can be purchased online at www.SCFTA.org, by phone at 714-556-2787 or in person at the SCFTA box office (open daily at 10 am). Segerstrom Center for the Arts is located at 600 Town Center Drive in Costa Mesa. For tickets or more information, visit SCFTA.org.