Review: SHUCKED at ASU Gammage

Guest contributor David Appleford gives an energetic thumbs up to the North American tour of SHUCKED at ASU Gammage in Tempe, AZ.   

Only on Broadway can a show this proudly preposterous, this shamelessly corny, sneak up on the skeptics and knock the wind out of them. SHUCKED, the goofy little musical that could, arrives at ASU Gammage in Tempe like a hayride crashing into a punch bowl.

Playing now in Tempe until December 7, if you told the average jaded theatergoer that a homespun romp about corn (that’s not a joke: it’s about corn) would be the freshest, funniest production in ASU’s 2025/26 season, they’d probably roll their eyes hard enough to strain a retina. But this isn’t some joke stretched too thin. It’s a twang-infused celebration of musical comedy that knows exactly how dumb it is, and has the genius to make that look like a virtue.

As one character deadpans early on, “There’s a cornfield of difference between simple and stupid.” That line might as well be the show's manifesto.

The musical began a decade ago as a discarded stage version of the hayseed sketch TV series Hee-Haw. But SHUCKED has had a complete overhaul as a smart-dumb book musical by veteran comedy writer Robert Horn. There’s a wink in every line with just a hint of satire, and it’s surprisingly good at it.

From the opening beat, guided by two mischievous, energetic storytellers (Joe Moeller doing vaudeville, and Maya Lagerstam tossing sass like she’s flipping pancakes), we’re clued in: this is a tall tale told by people who love telling it.

Set in a mythical mid-American patch called Cobb County, the show imagines a multiracial band of descendants from Puritan dissenters who somehow, miraculously, settled on unclaimed, isolated farmland. The present-day descendants have heard of the outside world, they’re just not interested in it.

But there’s a problem in the county.  The town is in crisis.  It’s corn crop collapses, triggering a plucky heroine's quest to find answers in the exotic land of...wait for it...Tampa, Florida.

Danielle Wade as the corn-fed but steel-spined Maizy, has the kind of voice that seems to shimmer with sincerity even as the jokes fly. She's got twang, guts, and a sunny resilience that keeps this spinning jalopy of a plot grounded. Her chemistry with Beau (Nick Bailey), the sweetheart left behind, is pure musical comedy magic.  He’s got the looks of a country crooner with the soul of a Labrador retriever. Their duets are cornball bliss, all sugar and sadness in equal measure. And when they argue, Beau asks, “For once, why can’t you agree with me?” Maizy responds, “Then we’d both be wrong.”

Then there’s the con man from Tampa. Quinn VanAntwerp as Gordy is a podiatrist by name only. In reality, he’s a slick-talking grifter who sees Cobb County not as a corn mecca, but as his personal piggy bank. He’s a Sunshine State scammer, and Vanantwerp plays him with a loose-limbed charm that makes you root for the con even as you know it’s coming.

Next there’s Lulu (played on opening night by understudy Dominique Kent) whose words of wisdom include, “If life was fair, mosquitoes would suck fat instead of blood!” She doesn’t just steal scenes, she owns the show as shown with the song Independently Owned, a roof-rattling anthem of sass and sovereignty that turned the opening night Gammage audience into instant disciples.

The supporting cast is a treasure trove of comic oddities. Mike Nappi is Peanut, the kind of character who seems to have dropped in from another planet, and that planet might be spinning a little faster than ours. When giving his thoughts on why you should get drunk before taking your driver’s license picture, he states, “That way you look normal when they pull you over.” Elijah Caldwell’s Grandpa is cheerfully daft, while the ensemble plays several parts each and nails every last punchline.

The script, by Robert Horn, is so drenched in puns and one-liners you half expect a rimshot after every scene. In a local radio news update that opens the show, Peanut reports that “Yesterday, Buddy Wilson was attacked by a bunch of clowns.  When asked how he escaped, he said, ‘I went for the juggler.’

Horn treats lowbrow humor with high style, writing the kind of dialogue that makes you both groan and laugh out loud. And director Jack O’Brien brings the whole shebang together with just enough polish to keep it snappy. Call it vaudeville on moonshine.

Brandy Clark and Shane McAnally’s score is a surprising stunner.  It’s country, yes, but also musical theater loaded with toe-tappers, heartbreakers, and sneaky sophistication. These are songs that grow out of the story like sunflowers from a patch of mud, and the cast makes each one feel like a personal victory.

Even the scenic design leans into the crooked charm. Scott Pask’s set is all rustic whimsy, with lighting by Japhy Weideman that seems to beam down right from comedy heaven. And as for Sarah O’Gleby’s choreography, or perhaps we should call it cornography, it’s full of barrel rolls, boot-stomps, and line dances.

So yes, SHUCKED is silly. It’s ridiculous. But it’s also the kind of theatrical miracle that reminds us how good it feels to laugh. Not to simply chuckle, but to belly laugh.  It may be about corn, but SHUCKED has an ear for joy. Let’s face it, shows like this don’t come around often. And when they do, they shouldn’t be missed.  

Is SHUCKED the future of American theater? Of course not. But it’s a reminder that not every story has to solve the national psyche. Some stories just want to make you laugh and have you leaving the theater with a smile you didn’t know you needed.  And when you think about it, for a show that started life as a Hee-Haw reboot, that’s not just impressive, it’s damn near amazing.

ASU Gammage -- https://www.asugammage.com/ -- 1200 S. Forest Avenue, Tempe, AZ -- 480-965-3434

Photo credit to Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman