Review: JAGGED LITTLE PILL at Playhouse On The Square

Jukebox musicals are imposters. They want the “label” of being musical theatre when they’re just concerts masquerading AS theatre. You didn’t see MAMMA MIA. You went to an ABBA concert. You don’t love JERSEY BOYS because of it’s book. You love it because it features The Four Seasons’ greatest hits. And that’s okay. But let’s at least be honest. These jukebox musicals aren’t compelling dramas desperately seeking songs. No, they’re great songs usually crammed into mediocre “stories.” The lengths these shows go to make their narratives fit around these hit melodies are often painful or laughable.

Perhaps, until now.

Finally, in Playhouse on the Square’s latest production, a story comes along that can truly stand on its own with identifiable characters, situations, and challenges. Yes, those other jukebox musicals have great songs, but they’re saddled with tales that just aren’t relatable to the average theatregoer. They’re often escapist because of their source material--the songs. However, when you have an artist like Alanis Morissette and songs that uniformly delve deeply into the complex psyche of the human condition, you better have a good book to go along with it. And that’s just what JAGGED LITTLE PILL delivers.

Under the direction of Jeramie L. Simmons (THE HOT WING KING), this jukebox musical provides a compelling enough story, matched with some of the 1990’s biggest hits, to keep you engaged throughout and often moved.

All of Morissette’s songs from her 1995 album, “Jagged Little Pill” are here, including others which universally highlight the contradictions of life paired with inescapable angst. To provide a story that matches the depth and intensity of the music, screenwriter Diablo Cody (“Juno” and “Young Adult”) crafts a tale about a typical four-person family all wrestling with their own personal demons. Whether it’s sexual violence, addiction, excruciating pressure to measure up or self-identity, Cody’s book successfully warrants its coupling with Morissette’s music. Here, the book and the score feed each other nicely.

Amy P. Nabors (Mary Jane Healy) plays the family matriarch who’s trying to keep it all together with a forced smile, “can-do” attitude, and an out-of-control pill addiction. She’s recovering from a car accident and is in constant physical pain while trying (but failing) to suppress the emotional pain of an earlier trauma. Nabors plays the part all too convincingly of a striving, but failing parent who  lets her shadow-self seep out at the most inopportune times. Her powerful renditions of “Smiling” and “Uninvited” lay bare the contradictions of who we often present ourselves to be to the world versus the truth of who we truly are. Nabors has a powerful voice that can BLOW. It’s a layered performance that meets the moment.

Brent Strauss as her husband, Steve, works too much and watches porn even more. He’s a distant, disconnected, sexually frustrated man who is often the last to know what’s going in with his family. Strauss can sing, but lacks believability or chemistry to quite fit in with the others onstage. There are glimmers when it sometimes works, but it quickly fades with awkward movements and forced dialogue.

Ty Lenderman plays their high school son (Nick) who has just been accepted to Harvard. He’s his mother’s pride and joy, but with that, also comes enormous pressure to never fail. Every action and choice taken has ramifications for life-a lesson his mother will never let him forget. Lenderman is a fine actor, but struggles with the key of his song, “Perfect.”

Mads Jackson plays the adopted daughter, Frankie, who is experiencing identity crises that come from being adopted, bisexual, and a different race than her new family. There are infinite opportunities for Jackson to personify the angst of Morisette’s music and Jackson does it successfully without over or underplaying it. She brings naturalism to the character, and you can’t help but feel her plight and internalize her pain.

Embodying the look, sound, and energy of the late 90’s alternative rock era is Axyl Langford (could the name Axyl be more perfect?) as Frankie’s high school girlfriend, Jo. She easily pulls off the iconic grunge look with that “screw the establishment” attitude. Her 2nd Act rendition of “You Oughta Know” rocks the house garnering cheers and applause from start to finish. Nicely done!

The creators of this show realize these iconic songs represent the duality of who we present to the world and how we really see ourselves. We offer a brave face in public, only to wallow in shame when no one’s looking. This “shadow self” stays with us and can haunt interminably. Haley Wilson personifies this shadow as she vacillates between grace and anguish choreographically behind the female characters. If our subconscious took form, it would look like this. Wilson is a beautiful dancer and her movements to Courtney Oliver’s choreography are the heart (and heartbreaking) personification of their plight.

Technically, this production is strong. Joshua Crawford’s sound design makes for easily heard and understood vocals as they precisely complement Eileen Kuo’s orchestra. Kiah Kayser’s scenic design of minimal scaffolding, elevated platforms and rolling ladders should be the new precedent for all future productions at POTS. In this era of tighter budgets and smaller audiences, scenic design that suggests a locale is just as good (if not better) than trying to recreate full-blown realism. Special recognition goes to Rachel Lauren’s lighting design. Utilizing neon lighting to accent the false proscenium, mixed with just the right amount of haze offers enough of a rock show vibe without overshadowing the unfolding drama. It’s nuanced in a way that completely elevates the overall production.