Musicals from the 1990s have enjoyed something of a reappraisal in recent years. Major revivals have returned shows like Ragtime to the Broadway stage, while the 2017 revival of Once on This Island reminded audiences just how emotionally potent some of the decade’s work could be. Even the more uneven but much-lauded Parade staged a triumphant comeback, earning a fresh wave of admiration a generation after its debut. That said, the 1990s were a complicated time on Broadway. It was the tail end of the British invasion, and there was a growing sense that the creative well was beginning to run dry. Musical comedy, in particular, hit a low point, increasingly relying on stage adaptations of popular films – State Fair (which could really be an honourable mention in today’s list) and High Society among them – a trend that had already taken hold in the 1980s. Crazy for You, based on an older musical comedy rather than a film, proved a rare exception. Then, of course, Rent arrived and jolted the genre back to life. But in between the mega-hits, adaptations and popular revivals like The King and I, some genuinely adventurous, entertaining and artistically rich shows slipped through the cracks. Today’s Saturday List celebrates five underrated musicals from the 1990s that deserve to be talked about far more than they are.
5. Assassins (1990)
Politically daring and still deeply uncomfortable to experience, Assassins is often respected more than it is enjoyed, which makes it perfect for this “people don’t talk about it enough” list. With music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim and a book by John Weidman, the show explores the lives of people who attempted to assassinate some of the Presidents of the United States. History tells us that some of them succeeded, and the show explores the inherent flaws of the American Dream through their stories. The score draws on popular music styles from different eras, giving us unforgettable numbers like “Everybody’s Got the Right,” “Unworthy of Your Love,” “The Ballad of Czolgosz” and “How I Saved Roosevelt.” When it opened Off-Broadway in 1990, the response was mixed and often hostile. A 2004 Broadway revival was far more warmly received, winning five Tony Awards, including Best Revival of a Musical, a rare redemption arc for a musical like this. Still, Assassins remains a show that fuels discontent rather than comfort. In a fractured world, it feels more relevant than ever. Wouldn’t it be instructive than ever to revisit moments in time when “Something Just Broke”?
The original Off-Broadway company of Assassins (Photo credit: Martha Swope)
4. Marie Christine (1999)
Sneaking in at the very end of the decade, Marie Christine ran for a limited run of just 42 performances, but its ambition far exceeded its lifespan. With music, lyrics and book by Michael John LaChiusa, the show transplants the Greek myth of Medea to the nineteenth century, creating a work that sits boldly on the edge of opera and musical theatre. Written for Audra McDonald and her glorious soprano, Marie Christine boasts an exquisitely sophisticated score that makes it a tough sell today. There are no obvious “boppy” numbers here, but it is beautifully composed and narratively compelling. Songs like Marie’s manifesto, “Way Back to Paradise,” and the lush, aching “I Don’t Hear the Ocean” reward repeated listening. Any hope that a longer Broadway run for the original production might follow was quashed when the Lincoln Center Theatre producers opted to run with the more commercially appealing Contact, effectively leaving Marie Christine stranded at the end of the 1990s. Sure, it was the smarter business move, but even so, Marie Christine remains one of the decade’s most fascinating near-misses, one that richly deserves another outing.
Vivian Reed as Marie Christine’s Mother and Audra McDonald as Marie Christine in Marie Christine (Photo credit: Joan Marcus)
3. Hello Again (1993)
Based on Arthur Schnitzler’s 1897 play La Ronde, Hello Again (with music, lyrics and book by Michael John LaChiusa) premiered Off-Broadway in 1993 and has since accrued cult status. It even has a film version. And yet, it remains strangely under-recognised. Structured as a chain of romantic and sexual encounters between ten characters across ten scenes, moving fluidly through time and space, the show feels increasingly modern in its frankness. Its explorations of sexuality, gender, intimacy and power resonate more strongly now than they did three decades ago. “Tom” became the show’s breakout number, enjoying a life on several musical theatre performers’ solo albums, but other delights, including the wickedly sharp “Mistress of the Senator,” deserve equal attention. More accessible than Marie Christine, Hello Again has travelled widely, but it still awaits a revival that firmly places it where it belongs at the forefront of late twentieth-century musical theatre.
Audra McDonald as Sally (The Actress) and Martha Plimpton as Ruth (The Senator) in the film adaptation of Hello Again
2. City of Angels (1990)
Probably Cy Coleman’s last great score, with some of the finest lyrics David Zippel ever wrote and a razor-sharp book by Larry Gelbart, City of Angels is an affectionate and incisive homage to classic film noir. It ran for an impressive 879 performances on Broadway and then pretty much vanished from everything but the musical theatre history books. City of Angels unfolds along two parallel storylines: one following Stine, a novelist struggling to adapt his latest book for Hollywood, and the other set within the hard-boiled world of that novel, where private eye Stone navigates a shadowy Los Angeles of betrayal and desire. Coleman’s score is a fabulous mix of jazz, pop and traditional Broadway sounds, delivering gems like “Lost and Found” and “With Every Breath I Take.” When conversations turn to shows that should be revived, City of Angels is frequently cited near the top of the list. The only question is: when will Broadway finally listen?
James Naughton in City of Angels (Photo credit: Martha Swope)
1. Bring in ’da Noise, Bring in ’da Funk (1996)
Debuting Off-Broadway at the Public Theater in 1995 before transferring to Broadway in 1996, Bring in ’da Noise, Bring in ’da Funk remains one of the most singular works of musical theatre the decade produced. Conceived and directed by George C. Wolfe, with choreography by Savion Glover, the show tells the story of Black American history, from slavery through to the present, through tap, rap, music, movement and commentary. With music by Daryl Waters, Zane Mark and Ann Duquesnay, lyrics by Reg E. Gaines, George C. Wolfe and Ann Duquesnay, and a book by Gaines, the piece ran for just 85 performances on Broadway, but its impact far outstripped its run. Presented with projected images and relentless theatrical momentum, it was overstimulating in the best possible way, all the while taking a satirical, cutting and unapologetically confrontational approach. Essentially one of a kind, Bring in ’da Noise, Bring in ’da Funk deserves a prominent place in our musical theatre consciousness. It has never been more necessary.
Paula Scher’s posters for Bring in ’da Noise, Bring in ’da Funk
Underrated Then and Underrated Now
Honourable mentions on this list could easily include The Secret Garden, When Pigs Fly and even Sondheim’s most divisive work, Passion, a Tony winner that remains, paradoxically, underrated. The decade closed with a creative upswing that carried Broadway into the 2000s with shows like The Lion King and Titanic as well as those mentioned at the beginning of this article . Perhaps we’re in a similar lull now, this season’s original musicals burning low and slow. Even so, one of today’s overlooked works may yet become tomorrow’s rediscovery. Which 1990s musicals do you think were egregiously overlooked? (Yes, Victor/Victoria, that’s a nod to you!) What do you think deserves a comeback? Head to the comments and join the conversation.
Broadway has often looked across the Atlantic for creative renewal, and just over a century ago, it found something of the kind in André Charlot’s Revue of 1924, a sophisticated import refreshingly unlike anything American audiences were used to seeing. The revue was a compilation of newly written material alongside audience favourites from Charlot’s London productions, offering Broadway a distinctly British brand of theatrical wit at a moment when American revues were becoming ever bigger, brasher and more extravagant.
An advertisement for André Charlot’s Revue of 1924, with Nelson Keys (who replaced Jack Buchanan after his return to London) on the bill
In scale, Charlot’s revue was noticeably smaller than its American counterparts. Notably absent were the sprawling staircases and mass choruses and in their place was something leaner and more intimate, essentially a drop that could be atmospherically lit to suggest mood rather than spectacle. What the production lacked in size, however, it made up for in polish, personality and a sharply observed sense of humour that felt unmistakably British.
Central to the revue’s success were its three leading performers: Beatrice Lillie, Gertrude Lawrence and Jack Buchanan, all of whom were greeted with enormous enthusiasm by New York audiences. Lillie’s formidable comic gifts were fully on display. She skewered theatrical pretension as a concert diva whose self-belief vastly outstripped her vocal ability, delivered dryly savage comedy as a tea-shop waitress and mined unexpected laughs from the persona of a faded ingénue clinging to past glamour.
Lawrence offered the kind of theatrical alchemy that would become her trademark: pathos gently entwined with sentiment. She also revealed her comic range in a skit as a razor-sharp Mayfair wife. Less comfortably, from a contemporary perspective, she also appeared in material portraying a Limehouse Chinese girl, a reminder that even the most elegant revues of the period were shaped by attitudes that now sit uneasily with modern audiences.
Buchanan completed the trio with suave assurance. A stylish song-and-dance man, he partnered both women with ease, proving himself an adaptable and charismatic presence. His ability to glide between charm, comedy and romance made him an ideal anchor for a revue that relied on personality rather than spectacle.
Mary Martin in “Limehouse Blues” from André Charlot’s Revue of 1924
Musically, André Charlot’s Revue of 1924 was a rich showcase of London songwriting talent, with a particularly strong showing from Noël Coward, for whom the revue marked a significant breakthrough in the States. Songs such as “There’s Life in the Old Girl Yet” and “Parisian Pierrot” announced Coward as a writer with a witty, urbane and emotionally astute voice. Alongside Coward’s contributions were songs by Ivor Novello, including “March with Me” and “Night May Have Its Sadness”, as well as work by Philip Braham, Ronald Jeans and Douglas Furber. The revue also included material by the American team of Noble Sissle and Eubie Blake, notably “I Was Meant for You”, creating a genuinely transatlantic musical conversation.
The result was a critical and popular triumph. André Charlot’s Revue of 1924 ran for 298 performances, an impressive achievement for a production so understated in its physical trappings. More importantly, it established a template for a new kind of revue: intimate, performer-driven, witty rather than bombastic and rooted in sharp observation. Its success led to a second edition of the revue and opened the door to American careers for both Lillie and Lawrence, who would go on to become enduring figures on the Broadway stage.
Seen from today’s vantage point, André Charlot’s Revue of 1924 feels less like a curiosity and more like a reminder of what revues once did so well. They were incubators: places where writers, performers and styles could be tested, refined and celebrated in front of an audience without the weight of a fully fledged book musical.
It’s hard not to wonder whether there’s room again for this kind of show. In an era dominated by large-scale commercial spectacles, it could be glorious to see a revival of the intimate, intelligent revue, a space where emerging writers and performers can sharpen their craft, take risks and let personality, wit and musicality do the heavy lifting.
Towards the end of last year, I dipped into What Would Barbra Do? by Emma Brockes, a novelty book that proposes that few situations in life aren’t made better by showtunes. At the end of the introduction, Brockes references a conversation between famed Broadway producer and director Harold Prince and Andrew Lloyd Webber about Cats, which was Lloyd Webber’s next big project. Prince, who had directed Lloyd Webber’s political rock opera Evita, asked the composer whether the show was a metaphor for life in the United Kingdom, with some cats representing figures like Queen Victoria and Benjamin Disraeli and others the general populace. Lloyd Webber replied, “Hal, it’s about cats.” In the end, Prince passed on Cats, and Trevor Nunn would direct what would go on to be one of the longest-running shows both on Broadway and in the West End.
Although Brockes misattributes Lloyd Webber’s words to Cameron Mackintosh, who produced the show, recalling the anecdote reminded me once again of questions we keep on revisiting at a time when revivals of classic shows are more popular than ever – and in fact, when choices made in current productions even end up debated ad nauseam on social media. Who holds the final say when it comes to making meaning in musicals? Do audiences have to believe what the writers say the show is about? Where does the director fit in? What does it actually mean to honour the vision of the creators? And do we actually have to agree about this?
Harold Prince on Cats
When I – like Princeton from Avenue Q – was studying a BA in English, at one point, I announced to a friend of mine that I thought I was a structuralist. The memory of this somewhat precocious outburst resurfaced as I was considering whether it mattered that Lloyd Webber is on record as saying the show is simply about cats. Such a readerly take on the material seems ironic, given the writerly fandom that has sprung up around Cats, which has layers and layers of sometimes impenetrable interpretation.
That said, if I’m honest, I had to go back and see what structuralism was all about. I unshelved my copy of A Glossary of Literary Terms, the indispensable M. H. Abrams handbook on literary theory, to refresh my memory. Am I, after all these years, a structuralist after all? I’ve certainly dallied with other literary movements over the years. And if I am, how does such an approach help or hinder my reading of musicals? Crisis. Either way, revisiting the theory of structuralist criticism revealed that there are certainly aspects of this movement that resonate with me.
The sense of objectivity it pursues is certainly something that I’ve always espoused. I fully appreciate the idea that, as Stephen Sondheim put it in Into The Woods, ‘nice is different than good.’ I like its focus on semiotics in this pursuit; consequently, I love the idea that for musical theatre lovers, there are underlying signs and symbols that help us make sense of musicals, principles established and refined by all the great musical theatre practitioners from John Gay onwards. I’m excited by the language this gives us to discuss the form, and the power this language affords us to grapple with the idea of why musicals are significant, when so many people write them off as trivial cultural expressions. And I’m excited that there is something relational about all of this, even if it is just to dispel the contemporary misperception that objectivity is purely factual.
If we accept that musicals are an expression of a set of underlying conventions, something that I find very exciting about the performative nature of the genre over time, is how we, as contemporary audiences, sometimes have to negotiate several sets of underlying conventions at once, especially given the rising prominence of revivals over the last half-century. Part and parcel of this is the fact that a musical, like all theatre, is at once multiple things: there is the text itself, and then there are performances of the text. All too often, these are assumed to be the same thing, which is why many “purists” struggle with revivals that treat text like raw material and take things from there, sometimes arriving at a very different expression of the musical’s meaning than what was seen in the original production. This is not to say that every new iteration of a musical is successful in interrogating what it sets out to explore. Consider the 2018-2019 Broadway season as an example: for every Oklahoma!, there’s a Kiss Me, Kate.
Rebecca Naomi Jones and Damon Daunno in Oklahoma! Photo credit: Little Fang
Even before I finished typing up that last sentence, I could hear the gasps from people who thought that Daniel Fish’s revival of Oklahoma! was an atrocity or those who prized the noble propositions of that same season’s Kiss Me, Kate over the way were executed. This brings us to one of the clinchers of the deal. You see, dear reader, it’s all right. We don’t have to agree, because we can all thrash out what we think makes these shows and their productions work or not from our positions as interpreters of these texts. We can all consciously and purposefully engage ourselves with scripts, songs, choreography, direction and performance in a way that is at once emotional and impersonal. The designs of the creators don’t need to intrude on those of the theatre-makers, and those of the theatre-makers don’t need to intrude on ours. Maybe Oscar Hammerstein II would have enjoyed debating whether Jud Fry is an incel over chili and cornbread. Maybe he wouldn’t have – but maybe that’s all right. Maybe it doesn’t even matter.
I’m really enthusiastic about the opportunities 2026 will offer to revisit musical theatre classics and experience new shows. I’m also pleased to have clarified some of the things that matter to me when I make meaning out of what I’m consuming in this age of consumable content. In that light, I’d like to think that a production of Cats that finds a way to delve deeply into T.S. Eliot’s yearning for cultural and spiritual renewal has the right to exist in the same world as one that is, as Lloyd Webber proclaims it to be, just about cats.
Although the Tony Awards represent the pinnacle of each Broadway season’s theatrical presentations, some recipients of the award for Best Musical haven’t stood the test of time. Sometimes, an undeserving musical edges out a show that is otherwise recognised as being absolutely brilliant; at other times, an older show is out of step with the way we see the world today. There are even cases where the craft of creating musical theatre has just developed so much that a past winner seems to lack the nuance of one of its contemporaries. In today’s Saturday List, we’re taking a look at a selection of musicals that may have been representative of their time, but which perhaps aren’t classics for all time.
5. Kismet (1953)
There was an audience for Kismet in the 1950s, but it is virtually unrevivable now. A Middle Eastern fantasy set in the time of The Arabian Nights, the show tells a tale of stereotypical characters in caricatured settings, an approach that clashes sharply with our modern sensibilities about representation. Kismet follows the exploits of a clever poet, Hajj, and his beautiful daughter, Marsinah, who become caught up in a series of palace intrigues involving mistaken identities and arranged marriages, all under the guiding hand of fate. The show opened to no reviews due to a newspaper strike and received mixed reviews a week into its run once the strike ended. Still, its pseudo-classical score adapted from the works of Alexander Borodin by Robert Wright and George Forrest, the glorious pageantry of Lemuel Ayers’s designs and a distinguished central performance by Alfred Drake as Hajj won over both audiences and members of The American Theatre Wing. The only other show that might have given Kismet a run for its money was the second biggest winner of that season, Can-Can, which also drew lukewarm reviews from critics, although it was popular enough with audiences to sustain a run of 892 performances.
Alfred Drake as Hajj and Joan Diener sa Lalume in Kismet
4. Hallelujah, Baby! (1967)
“The show was a turkey,” Arthur Laurents said about Hallelujah, Baby! “I don’t think it had much to say.” Following the life of Georgina, an African American woman, across several decades, in an attempt to explore the dynamics of race and racism in the twentieth century, some might argue that this kind of show actually has a lot to say. Despite its admirable intent, the more likely problem faced by Hallelujah, Baby! was the white lens through which the show’s narrative was filtered. All of its creators, including Laurents himself as well as Jule Styne, Betty Comden and Adolph Green, have several undisputed hits on their respective résumés, but what is conspicuously absent from this creative team is an authentic Black voice. Through its simplification of structural oppression into a sequence of personal triumphs for Georgina, Hallelujah, Baby! ends up embodying a worldview that reads as naïve at best and patronising at worst. Hallelujah, Baby! is rarely revived, and its obscurity limits its impact today. Laurents revised the show in 2004, helming a production that had its eye on Broadway. The show still lacked the bite it needed, confirming that what held it back all along was ideological, not just aesthetic. As such, it remains a fascinating failure rather than a timeless triumph.
Alan Weeks as Tap, Leslie Uggams as Georgina and Winston DeWitt Hemsley as Tip in Hallelujah, Baby!
3. Two Gentlemen of Verona (1971)
Is Two Gentlemen of Verona the Tony Awards’ most infamous misjudgement? This rock adaptation of Shakespeare’s early comedy somehow beat Follies and Grease to the Best Musical prize. Did its chaotic, countercultural energy simply overwhelm all of the voters? There’s very little in John Guare and Mel Shapiro’s book, in which young Proteus and Valentine put their friendship to the test as they journey through romance, betrayal and reconciliation, that can be played today without any sense of irony. And while I’m sure that the audiences of 1971 thought that numbers like “Thurio’s Samba,” “What Does a Lover Pack?” and “Don’t Have the Baby” were a bop, nothing from the score (with Guare’s lyrics set to music by Galt MacDermot) had a significant impact on the canon. With no traction for modern productions – The New York Times critic Ben Brantley called a 2005 revival ‘festive,’ while noting that it opted for ‘nonsense over sensibility’ and that the songs were ‘clunky’ – it’s little more than a relic of its time. With its amateurish exuberance laid bare, it’s little wonder that Two Gentlemen of Verona is often cited as one of the baffling Best Musical wins.
Raul Julia as Proteus, Clifton Davis as Valentine and Jose Parez as Speed in Two Gentlemen of Verona
2. Contact (2000)
There was one big problem with Contact being named the first “Best Musical” of the twenty-first century – it’s not a musical. With no live singing, this was a modern ballet, and it had no business being nominated in the category, let alone winning it. Is there anything wrong with the show itself? Not at all. In fact, it’s quite a good dance production, and it was certainly worthy of all the praise it received and its triumphant 1 010-performance run. So why complain? For one thing, it stripped the true best musical of the season – The Wild Party – of a title it deserved and a legacy to which it was entitled. Written by George C. Wolfe and Michael John LaChiusa, The Wild Party was a dark and complex musical that managed to simultaneously capture the neurosis of the world’s Y2K shift as well as the spirit of its 1920s setting and its source material, Joseph Moncure March’s eponymous poem. Contact’s win signalled something troubling, albeit not something we haven’t seen before or since: a moment when Tony voters appeared uncertain about what, exactly, the awards were recognising. In that sense, Contact stands less as a triumph of innovation than as an early warning sign of an awards culture increasingly willing to blur its own definitions in pursuit of marketing potential.
Scott Taylor, Seán Martin Hingston and Stephanie Michels in Contact (Photo credit: Paul Kolnik)
1. Memphis (2009)
Despite two undeniably committed central performances from Chad Kimball and Montego Glover, Memphis is a curiously dull show. David Bryan and Joe DiPietro crafted an oversimplified take on race, music and rebellion that already feels dated less than two decades after its Tony win. Framing the birth of rock ’n’ roll through the familiar lens of a white male liberator makes it feel like the show exists in a world where Willie Mae “Big Mama” Thornton was never overshadowed by Elvis Presley in the 1950s. The racial politics of Memphis are blunt rather than interrogative, offering reassurance instead of challenge, while its derivative score and glossy staging prioritise momentum over depth. What stings more is the context of its victory: the following season saw the arrival of The Scottsboro Boys, a daring and politically urgent work that grappled directly with American racial injustice, only for it to be largely sidelined while Broadway’s attention shifted to the juggernaut that was The Book of Mormon. In retrospect, Memphis is less a bold statement about cultural change than an emblem of 2010s Broadway populism, a reductive tale of racism in the music industry that is as tone-deaf as it is inert.
Chad Kimball as Huey Calhoun and Montego Glover as Felicia Farrell in Memphis
Looking Back to Find the Way Forward
Reflections about which musicals have aged well or not always involve a degree of subjectivity, but it’s not merely a matter of personal taste. Awards like the Tonys are institutional endorsements, reflecting what Broadway chooses to celebrate, legitimise and canonise at a given moment in time. Revisiting these decisions allows us to see how theatrical styles change as well as the way attitudes toward representation, authorship, form and power either evolve or fail to keep pace. To interrogate these winners is not to diminish the artists involved, but to better understand the blind spots of the industry that rewarded them, especially when we view them in the light of our contemporary values and developing theatrical practices. Which Best Musical winners do you feel haven’t aged as well as we’d like to think? Head to the comments section below and let us know!
There are some musicals, often from the late 1960s or early 1970s, whose scores sound so dated today that it’s hard to imagine they were ever en vogue. One such musical is The Fig Leaves Are Falling, which ran for four performances at the Broadhurst Theatre in 1969. With book and lyrics by Allan Sherman and music by Albert Hague (whose Redhead had won the Tony Award for Best Musical a decade earlier), the show was poorly received by critics and audiences alike. Not even the promise of a free chicken – one was raffled by the lead characters at the show’s close – could get tickets moving. Its place as a footnote in the musical theatre history books is thanks to Dorothy Loudon, who snagged a Tony nomination for her performance in the show – a huge stepping stone in her journey as a Broadway legend.
Barry Nelson and Dorothy Loudon in The Fig Leaves are Falling
The Fig Leaves Are Falling tells the story of Harry Stone, whose midlife crisis prompts him to question his life and his marriage to his wife, Lillian. He begins a dalliance with Pookie Chapman of the Sexual Freedom League, before realising that everything he was searching for was – you guessed it – at home all along.
Sherman, who was best known for his novelty song “Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh”, drew inspiration from his own divorce in writing the show, which attempted to satirise some key moral issues of the time, poking fun at the sexual revolution of the 1960s. By all accounts, it succeeded in delivering very little enlightenment and even less entertainment. Indeed, many found it, if not unpalatable, to be distasteful at the least. A typical example of the way The Fig Leaves Are Falling approached its subject matter is evident in the song, “Give Me a Cause,” which starts off well enough as it lampoons the generic protester, the kind of person who’s happy to hold a placard no matter the cause, and descends into a sort of mid-century “Mambo No. 5.” It’s trying so desperately to be clever and funny that it seems to lose track of what it’s trying to say, and to whom.
Extract from Clive Barnes’s review of The Fig Leaves Are Falling from The New York Times
The Fig Leaves Are Falling is a show that’s difficult to get a sense of today. There is no cast album, although a compilation of songs performed by Sherman at nightclub and television appearances, augmented by some studio-recorded tracks, is available. This particular album gives little sense of how the score helped craft the show’s story, although when listening to numbers like “We,” “For the Rest of My Life” and “All of My Laughter,” it’s easy to imagine Loudon’s signature style illuminating the material in a way that Sherman isn’t able to. That said, he sells “Today I Saw a Rose,” a key number for Harry, as something that promises more than what the show seems to deliver.
In 2013, Ben West adapted and revised The Fig Leaves Are Falling for an Off-Off-Broadway revival by Unsung Musicals. Today’s critics found as little to love in the show as those did during the show’s original run. It seems that this square-shouldered, faux-mod morality musical is better forgotten than remembered, a relic with creative ambitions that outpaced its cultural intuition.
It’s a tough time in the world right now. When it feels easier to keep your head down, musical theatre reminds us how powerful it can be when we speak up, find each other and take a stand. These five numbers trace a journey through a series of songs sung by young people, first tentatively finding their voices before transfiguring them into a full-throated chorus of change.
5. “The Telephone Hour” from Bye Bye Birdie (1960)
In 1960, the teenagers of Sweet Apple, Ohio, buzz with excitement during a phone call in Bye Bye Birdie. “The Telephone Hour” is all gossip and giggles, but its chattering, overlapping calls also capture the first stirrings of a collective teen identity. This is where people, especially young people, start finding a voice. It’s not yet a movement, by any means, but it’s already a network. It’s also a moment in musical theatre that recognises a connection that exists beyond what we see face-to-face. Here, the teens use the technology of telephones to reach out to one another after school. In this show, it’s humorous and thrilling – and it’s a sign of what’s to come. Did Charles Strouse and Lee Adams have any idea what they started?
4. “Unruly Heart” from The Prom (2018)
Almost 60 years after Kim MacAfee made waves in Ohio, Emma Nolan started a queer revolution in her Indiana bedroom. Her heartfelt ballad about being true to herself becomes a viral online message for other LGBTQIA+ teens. Written by Matthew Sklar and Chad Beguelin, “Unruly Heart” from The Prom shows how one authentic voice can spark a community, transforming isolation into solidarity. By the time the show reaches its finale, “Unruly Heart” is a unifying refrain: the very people who were once divided now sing together, celebrating Emma’s courage and the power of authenticity to draw a whole community into the light.
The original cast of Bye Bye Birdie sings “The Telephone Hour”Caitlin Kinnunen and the cast of The Prom discover what an “Unruly Heart” can do
3. “You Will Be Found'” from Dear Evan Hansen (2016)
Evan’s speech begins as a halting attempt to comfort his classmates at a memorial, but social media carries it far beyond his school’s walls. The stage fills with projections of screens, posts and video replies until Benj Pasek and Justin Paul’s anthem becomes a worldwide chorus of hope. Although Dear Evan Hansen has drawn criticism for how it depicts Evan’s deception and the ethics of his choices, “You Will Be Found” rises above the controversy. In performance and in the lives of many audience members, it has become an anthem of reassurance and solidarity, a reminder that even when you feel invisible, someone is listening, and you’re not alone.
2. “Seize the Day” from Newsies (2012)
In Newsies, Jack Kelly rallies the newsboys of New York to strike for fair pay. The number starts with a single call to action and swells into a full-company march, complete with stamping feet, raised fists and soaring harmonies – the sound of a movement being born. When the original Disney movie came out in 1992, “Seize the Day” became a personal anthem for me as a young musical-theatre fan; its message of youthful courage and collective action felt like permission to dream bigger and stand taller. On stage and screen, Alan Menken and Jack Feldman’s song continues to capture that intoxicating moment when young people realise they can change their world together.
1. “Do You Hear the People Sing” from Les Misérables (1985)
Written by Claude-Michel Schönberg, Alain Boublil and lyricist Herbert Kretzmer, this anthem takes its cue from the real student-led June Rebellion of 1832. In Les Misérables, Enjolras and his friends are idealistic young men in their late teens and early twenties – law students, medical students, apprentices – who transform their convictions into action on the barricades. “Do You Hear the People Sing?” captures that surge of youthful passion but also hints at something larger: that the courage, integrity and solidarity you discover when you’re young can continue to fuel you as you grow older. No wonder this song has become a rallying cry far beyond the theatre, sung by protesters, choirs and communities across the world.
Ben Platt leads the company of Dear Evan Hansen in “You Will Be FoundThe original cast of Newsies sings “Seize the Day”Matt Shingledecker and the cast of Les Misérables lead a revolution in song
Why These Songs Matter Now
Each of these numbers starts with a single spark – a phone call, a confession, a speech, a strike, a rallying cry – and grows into something bigger than itself. Together, they chart a path from speaking up to standing up. For me, this is more than an interesting theatrical device; it’s a model for how theatre can help us respond to our world today. Revisiting these songs and shows, I’ve realised that we need a revolution to save us from the devolution we’re seeing around us right now. We can’t afford to drift into cynicism or silence. Like the young characters in these songs, we have to seize the day, raise our unruly hearts and join the chorus to fight for what’s right. These numbers remind us that change begins when one person dares to sing, and that we can be even stronger when we all sing together.
Today, we celebrate the birthday of musical theatre legend Oscar Hammerstein II. Born into a family who were already notable in theatre history, he would become the most renowned of the Hammerstein clan, not only because of his contributions to musical theatre as a lyricist and librettist but also as a practitioner who pushed the boundaries of what musical theatre could accomplish as an art form. Having collaborated with composers like Rudolf Friml and Sigmund Romberg on operettas like Rose-Marie and The Desert Song, he is perhaps better remembered for his work on Show Boat (which he created with Jerome Kern) and the string of musicals he created with Richard Rodgers, which include Oklahoma!, Carousel, South Pacific, The King and I and The Sound of Music. To mark the 130th anniversary of Hammerstein’s birth on July 12, 1895, let’s revisit ten of his greatest lyrics, each of which gives us insight into the man behind the musicals.
1. “Ol’ Man River” from Show Boat (1927)
Let’s start with one of Hammerstein’s most profound and lyrically rich songs. A landmark in musical theatre history, this lyric gave voice to the struggles of the Black American characters in Show Boat through its poetic central metaphor and its haunting simplicity. The contrast in the lyric between the hardships faced by Joe, a dock worker aboard the Cotton Blossom, the showboat referenced in the musical’s title, and the indifferent continuity of nature is both heartbreaking and timeless. We hear of men who ‘sweat an’ strain, body all achin’ an’ racked with pain,’ while the river, that ‘ol’ man river,’ just ‘keeps on rollin’ along.’ Nature moves forward, indifferent to the injustices endured along its banks. Sadly, almost a century after this song was written, many people remain similarly indifferent to what is happening to those around them.
There’s a great theatre legend about the importance of this lyric, and of musical theatre lyrics in general. At a dinner in the late 1940s, Hammerstein reportedly bristled when Show Boat was referred to as a “Jerome Kern show.” When someone called “Ol’ Man River” a Kern song, Hammerstein replied, “I guess when Jerry Kern wrote the songs, they came out like this” — and then hummed the melody without words. Later versions of the tale attribute the sentiment to Hammerstein’s second wife, Dorothy:
Everyone always talks about Jerome Kern’s “Ol’ Man River.” But Jerry only wrote ‘dum dum dum dum.’ My husband wrote the words that fit those notes – “Ol’ Man River.” Nobody stops to remember that.”
Of course, both stories may be true, but either way, the anecdote is a powerful reminder that in musical theatre, a lyricist plays as great a part in giving a song its soul as its composer does.
Paul Robeson in Show Boat
2. “Can’t Help Lovin’ Dat Man” from Show Boat (1927)
If “Ol’ Man River” shows Hammerstein’s lyrical poetry at its most profound, “Can’t Help Lovin’ Dat Man” reveals his dramatic precision. On the surface, the song expresses romantic devotion. But when Julie begins singing it to Magnolia, Queenie interrupts, puzzled: she’s never heard a white woman sing this song. Julie dodges the question, and the number quickly builds into a sweeping ensemble, deflecting Magnolia and Queenie’s attention from the matter, just as Julie intends it to do. Even so, the moment plants a seed of suspicion and foreshadows a deeper truth for the audience. A few scenes later, it is revealed that Julie has Black ancestry and is passing as white in a racially segregated society. When the truth emerges, she and her husband, Steve, are accused of miscegenation, and the song’s early appearance becomes more than characterful and entertaining. It marks a turning point in musical theatre, signalling that the genre could engage with complex social issues like race, instead of simply delivering light entertainment.
Lonette McKee, Rebecca Luker, Michel Bell and Gretha Boston in Show Boat
3. “Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin'” from Oklahoma! (1943)
The opening lines of Oklahoma! changed Broadway. Hammerstein, always writing in service of the story he was telling, shared his unexpected inspiration for the lyric of the first Rodgers and Hammerstein song to be heard on stage by theatre audiences: the opening stage directions from Lynn Riggs’s Green Grow the Lilacs, the source material for Oklahoma! “On first reading those words,’ he recalled, “I thought what a pity it was to waste them on stage directions.” His observational and optimistic lyrics ushered in a new era where musicals could begin quietly and build belief in the dramatic world through setting and character rather than spectacle. With its naturalistic imagery and the authentic ebullience of Curly greeting the day, “Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin'” delivers a moment of perfect harmony that perfectly sets the drama of Oklahoma! in motion. It remains one of musical theatre’s most quietly radical moments.
Alfred Drake in Oklahoma!
4. “If I Loved You” from Carousel (1945)
“If I Loved You” forms part of a wider sequence in Carousel known as the “bench scene,” which set the standard for integration between music and drama in musical theatre for decades to come. Even today, it remains a master class in storytelling. The song itself, inspired by lines of dialogue from Ferenc Molnár’s Liliom, the source material for the show, is a study in emotional repression and yearning, using a conditional “if” to allow Julie and Billy to confess their feelings for one another without admitting their vulnerability. It’s brilliant and heartbreaking, a masterpiece of subtext in dramatic writing. Although the characters sing hypothetically, every line pulses with what they dare not say. It’s the perfect way to set up the dynamic of Julie and Billy’s relationship, and their inability to communicate in this first scene here haunts their relationship as it develops through the course of the show.
Jesslie Mueller and Joshua Henry in Carousel
5. “Soliloquy” from Carousel (1945)
One of the greatest challenges in creating Carousel was to enable the audience to identify with Billy. His behaviour is alienating, and there didn’t seem to be a way within the standard musical theatre conventions of the time to reveal more of his interior life. Never afraid of innovation, Hammerstein crafted a lyric that revealed Billy’s inner passions and fears upon discovering he would become a father and thereby motivate, if not justify, the choices he goes on to make. When Rodgers set the lyric to music, musical theatre fans were given the gift of a brilliant solo that lasted for almost eight minutes. In the song, Hammerstein charted Billy Bigelow’s emotional arc from excitement through anxiety, fear and finally, conviction with honesty, humour and depth. For an actor able to master the piece, it’s a tour de force.
Joshua Henry in Carousel
6. “You’ll Never Walk Alone” from Carousel (1945)
After Billy’s death in Carousel, Nettie comforts the grieving Julie with a simple message of endurance: “You’ll Never Walk Alone.” What began as a moment of intimate reassurance within the plot of a 1940s musical became one of the most beloved anthems ever written for the stage. Hammerstein’s lyric is spiritually resonant, morally grounded and emotionally direct, qualities that allowed it to transcend its theatrical roots and become a cultural touchstone. It has been recorded by artists from Patti LaBelle and Elvis Presley to Aretha Franklin and Marcus Mumford, and has charted multiple times on the Billboard 100. Adopted as the official anthem of Liverpool Football Club, it has echoed through stadiums and rallies, as well as at vigils and funerals. During the COVID-19 pandemic, it resurfaced as a song of solidarity for frontline workers across Europe. Few lyrics have travelled so far or meant so much to so many people, a testament to Hammerstein’s extraordinary ability to speak directly to people’s souls.
Renee Fleming in Carousel
7. “You’ve Got to Be Carefully Taught” from South Pacific (1949)
Few lyrics in musical theatre history are as brave or as succinct as “You’ve Got to Be Carefully Taught.” Sung by Lieutenant Cable in South Pacific, the song exposes the fact that racism is not innate, but passed down to children by parents and society, a startling idea for a Broadway audience in 1949. Rodgers and Hammerstein insisted on keeping “You’ve Got to Be Carefully Taught” in the show, despite fierce backlash. When South Pacific toured the American South, some lawmakers tried to ban the musical altogether, accusing the show’s creators of promoting a Communist agenda. But for Hammerstein, the lyric was the entire point of the show, an indictment of learned hatred that one generation insidiously teaches to the next. His courage paid off. The song remains one of the most socially charged in the musical theatre canon, its message as urgent now as ever: racism must be actively unlearned if any social justice is to be achieved in our time.
John Kerr in South Pacific
8. “This Nearly Was Mine” from South Pacific (1949)
Many people would expect “Some Enchanted Evening” to represent South Pacific on a list of Hammerstein’s greatest lyrics. While its sweeping romanticism has earned the song its iconic status, “This Nearly Was Mine” offers something rarer: a mature and restrained expression of heartbreak. Whereas “Some Enchanted Evening” idealises love at first sight, “This Nearly Was Mine” mourns a love that almost was, with emotional sophistication not always evident in Golden Age Broadway ballads. The lyric is lean, avoiding cliché while evoking longing, loss, dignity and regret. It builds incrementally in its imagery until the emotion peaks, sitting perfectly on a melody that deepens what the words have said. Stephen Sondheim, who criticised the lyrics for “Some Enchanted Evening” for their generalities, often praised Hammerstein’s ability to communicate a sentiment without being sentimental. That quality is on full display here, shifting Emile from being an archetypal romantic hero to a vulnerable man facing irrevocable loss.
Paulo Szot in South Pacific
9. “Climb Ev’ry Mountain” from The Sound of Music (1949)
“Climb Ev’ry Mountain” may seem an unexpected inclusion on a list of Hammerstein’s greatest lyrics. Some might dismiss it as generic, but its impact, both within The Sound of Music and far beyond it, is undeniable. As the show’s moral and emotional spine, the lyric urges Maria, as well as audiences of the show, to pursue their purpose with clarity and courage. Stirring and sincere, the song embodies Hammerstein’s gift for spiritual upliftment without religious dogma, offering a universal message of resilience, aspiration and faith. Over time, it has transcended the musical, becoming a staple at graduations, memorials and moments of personal reckoning. I’m sure that many of us have played it in our cars or on our devices at key moments of our lives. It’s pure Hammerstein optimism, distilling the idealism that runs through all his work into a single call to action: keep going, no matter how hard the climb might be.
Audra McDonald and Carrie Underwood in The Sound of Music
10. Edelweiss from The Sound of Music (1959)
“Edelweiss” was the final song written by Rodgers and Hammerstein, and the last complete lyric Hammerstein completed before he passed away in 1960. Written during the Boston tryouts for the show, “Edelweiss” was conceived as a song that captured Captain von Trapp’s sense of loss as the Austria he knew and loved in the wake of the German annexation of Austria. Much to the frustration of many Austrians, some of whom view the song as kitsch or clichéd, the song has often been mistaken for an Austrian folk song. That said, “Edelweiss” is so effective and all the more profoundly moving because it is so delicate and deceptively simple. A quiet affirmation of homeland and heritage, “Edelweiss” becomes, in context, a protest song disguised as a lullaby. Rodgers was, in fact, so clear in his convictions about the song’s intent that he never granted permission for the use of the “Edelweiss” melody with adjusted lyrics for commercial purposes. The Rodgers and Hammerstein estate remains compliant with these wishes even today, maintaining the integrity of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s intentions in writing the song.
Craig Urbani, Brittany Smith and the children in The Sound of Music
Honourable Mentions…
There are so many great Hammerstein lyrics, that it’s hard to curate a list of only ten. In addition to those discussed above, there is, for example, “All The Things You Are,” from Very Warm for May. Though the melody by Jerome Kern is iconic, Hammerstein’s introspective lyrics are just as exquisite, an ode to idealised love, written with poetic phrasing that has made the song popular as a jazz standard.
A lyric like “I Can’t Say No” from Oklahoma!, in which Hammerstein’s ear for character is evident, also warrants mention. The song characterises Ado Annie in a comic and charming way, while hinting at deeper themes like sexual agency and social expectations.
A further offering from Carousel is the brilliant “What’s the Use of Wond’rin’?” This lyric is quietly provocative, wrestling with what it means to love someone flawed. Its resigned, almost fatalistic tone makes it as troubling as it is tender, perhaps more honest than many a Broadway love song.
In The King and I, “I Have Dreamed” is a dreamy and sensual song that conveys intimacy through imagination, which makes it even more romantic and prepares the audience for the tragedy that awaits Lun Tha and Tuptim. It’s an excellent example of how to set things up for a moving reversal of fortune.
In the same show, “Getting to Know You” offers a psychologically astute observation with childlike simplicity, helping to chart the growing trust between Anna and the King’s wives and children with the kind of grace Hammerstein exemplified in his everyday life.
The list goes on… “So Far” from Allegro, “All at Once You Love Her” from Pipe Dream, “Ten Minutes Ago” from Cinderella, “Love Look Away” from Flower Drum Song – it’s hard to stop listing the lyrical joys of Hammerstein’s body of work.
Final thoughts…
While known for crafting some of the greatest stories and lyrics in musical theatre history, it is not only his own words that speak to Hammerstein’s legacy. He famously mentored another top-tier musical theatre practitioner, Stephen Sondheim, who would go on to be another mover and shaker in the musical theatre genre. That said, perhaps the anecdote that gives us the most insight into who Hammerstein was, is the story Mary Martin told about a lyric he passed to her after it was known he was fatally ill with stomach cancer.
One day I was getting out of the car and going into the theatre when I saw Oscar coming out of the stage door. He didn’t see me. He was walking sort of bent over for him – and he didn’t look at all well. Then he saw me and he straightened up. He had a little piece of paper in his hand, and he said, “Here are the words for the scene between you and Lauri. Dick already has the music. We’re adding a verse to “Sixteen Going on Seventeen”. I would have loved to enlarge it and make it a complete song, but we’ll have to use it this way now. Don’t open it yet. Just look at it when you have time.”
Then later on Dick Rodgers came to my dressing room and he said, “Did you see Oscar?” I said yes, and he said, “Well, Mary, you’re a big girl now, and you’re old enough to take things. I have to tell you that Oscar has cancer and it’s really bad. He didn’t want to tell you himself, so he asked me to tell you. But he’s given you the lyrics?”
I said he had, and Dick said, “Now, we’re not going to be sad about this, Mary. We don’t know how long he will be with us, but he will work to the very end. If you feel badly, stay in here for a while, and then come out and rehearse and forget it. We’re all going to forget it and that’s it.”
I opened the piece of paper Oscar had given me. This is what it said: ‘A bell is no bell till you ring it. A song is no song till you sing it. And love in your heart wasn’t put there to stay. Love isn’t love till you give it away.’
Happy birthday, Mr Hammerstein! Thank you for everything you’ve given us.
This week, I watched Maybe Happy Ending on Broadway and seeing it live confirmed the suspicions I’ve held since I first listened to the cast album back in March: it’s the best new musical of the decade and easily one of the top ten of this century. The experience got me thinking about robots in musical theatre. How many shows have featured them over the years? As it turns out, not many. Perhaps that’s because robots are traditionally seen as emotionless, while musicals are built around emotional expression. However, the tension between machine logic and human feeling is exactly what makes a show like Maybe Happy Ending so compelling. As such, this week’s Saturday List is short, sharp and snappy, with just four entries, each of which finds its own way to explore the heart beneath the hardware when it comes to robots on stage.
4. Starship (2011)
We’ve written about Starship before, featuring it in our list of space musicals to celebrate Yuri’s Night. With music and lyrics by Darren Criss and a book by Matt Lang, Nick Lang, Brian Holden, and Joe Walke, Starship is set on Bug-World, an alien planet teeming with giant insects and follows the journey of Bug, who has big dreams of joining the elite Starship Rangers. The only problem? He’s just a bug, while the Starship Rangers are an intergalactic team of heroic human beings. When a starship lands on Bug-World, Bug impersonates a human to join the crew and finds himself swept up in an adventure involving the Overqueen’s royal dictatorship on his home planet, Dr Pincer’s bug mafia and the corrupt Galactic League of Extraterrestrial Exploration (G.L.E.E)
One of the characters caught up in this crazy mash-up of The Little Mermaid and Aliens is Mega-Girl, an android assigned to assist the Starship Rangers. Initially cold and hyper-logical, she’s a standard-issue military android, loyal to the commands of Junior, a snivelling G.L.E.E. officer who is desperate to climb the ranks and impress his father, the evil Dr Spaceclaw. But when Mega-Girl falls in love with Tootsie Noodles, one of the rangers, she overrides her violent programming and helps save the day.
Mega-Girl fits into several well-known science-fiction robot tropes. As a machine that ultimately develops feelings, she’s a class “robot with a heart,” echoing characters like Data in Star Trek: The Next Generation or the awakened android hosts from Westworld. Her redemption arc makes her a “reprogrammed weapon,” much like Arnold Schwarzenegger’s Terminator in Terminator 2: Judgement Day, and her unlikely romance with Tootsie places her in the tradition of the “interspecies romance,” much like Spock and Uhura in Star Trek‘s Kelvin Timeline or Leeloo and Korben Dallas from The Fifth Element. These references, along with many other nods to sci-fi storytelling throughout the show, make Starship the perfect entry-level musical for sci-fi fans new to the musical theatre scene.
Tootsie Noodles and Mega-Girl in Starship, two halves of an unlikely space-age romanceAriel in Return to the Forbidden Planet, the prototype for the heart beneath the hardware
3. Return to the Forbidden Planet (1983)
Return to the Forbidden Planet is another sci-fi cult musical we featured on Yuri’s Night, one that mashes up Shakespeare with 1950s B-movie sci-fi conventions, all to the beat of a classic rock ’n’ roll song stack. With a book by Bob Carlton, this jukebox musical is based on the 1956 science fiction film Forbidden Planet, which itself draws inspiration from The Tempest.
In the show, Captain Tempest commands a spaceship called the Albatross, which is damaged in a storm of meteor showers. When the ship drifts by the planet D’Illyria, a mad scientist, Doctor Prospero, who has been marooned there since his wife and science partner, Gloria, sent him and their daughter Miranda into space, offers to repair the ship. They bring with them Ariel, a loyal robot who helps steer the Albatross to safety and quotes Shakespeare with perfectly deadpan comic timing.
As a character, Ariel is a loving homage to classic sci-fi robots, equal parts servant, sidekick and scene-stealer. He fits the “robot companion” trope, much like C-3PO and R2-D2 from Star Wars. Though mechanically efficient, Ariel is deeply loyal to the ship’s captain and crew and his robotic exterior masks a surprisingly warm emotional core. The mix of Shakespearean verse, slapstick humour and classic rock anthems makes Return to the Forbidden Planet a wildly entertaining entry for sci-fi fans looking for something delightfully weird, and Ariel is this quirky show’s most endearing takeaways.
2. Metropolis (1989)
Staged in London’s West End in 1989, Metropolis was a visually stunning, musically ambitious adaptation of Fritz Lang’s iconic 1927 silent film of the same name. With music by Joe Brooks, lyrics by Dusty Hughes and a book by both of them, the musical imagines a dystopian future set in a sprawling industrial city divided into two rigid classes: the elite thinkers above and the oppressed workers below. When Steven, the privileged son of the city’s master, John Freeman, discovers the harsh reality of the workers’ world, he joins forces with Maria, a prophetic figure fighting for peace and unity, unaware that a machine double of Maria is being created to destroy everything she stands for.
The robot Maria, known as Futura, is one of the most iconic robot characters in science fiction, and she takes centre stage in the musical’s second act. Engineered by the scientist Warner at John Freeman’s command, Futura is designed to discredit the workers’ movement by inciting violence and chaos in Maria’s name. Sleek, seductive and programmed to deceive, the false Maria is the very image of manipulated femininity and technological menace, a perfect foil to the real Maria’s compassion and humanity.
Futura channels several classic sci-fi robot tropes. She is the quintessential “femme fatale android,” a template that influenced generations of cinematic robots from the replicants of Blade Runner to Ava from Ex Machina. At the same time, she represents the “machine as political weapon,” a robotic tool of surveillance and sabotage, similar to Skynet’s Terminators or The Matrix’s Machines. With its soaring score, expressionist visuals and timely questions about class, identity and automation, Metropolis seems primed for rediscovery, and perhaps even a bold reimagining for the twenty-first century.
1. Maybe Happy Ending (2016/2024)
Maybe Happy Ending, the quietly extraordinary chamber musical by Will Aronson and Hue Park, is set in Seoul in the not-too-distant future, where robots serve as companions and caretakers for lonely humans. Two retired helper-bots, Oliver and Claire, live alone in separate apartments in the same building, occupying their days with routine tasks and distant memories of the lives they led with their respective owners. When Claire’s charger malfunctions and she knocks on Oliver’s door, they begin a tentative companionship that blossoms into something deeper, prompting an exploration of memory, mortality and what it means to truly connect.
While on the surface, Maybe Happy Ending is a tender love story between two androids, it’s also a moving meditation on the human condition. Oliver and Claire, discarded by the society that built them, stand in for the isolated, the outdated and the othered. In some ways, they could even represent the elderly, people who are so often shut away in old-age homes once they’ve outlived their perceived usefulness. The musical gently asks us to reconsider how we treat those we overlook, even as they continue to feel, remember and dream. By presenting two robots with rich inner lives, the show invites us to acknowledge the emotional depth of those we forget too easily.
Both Oliver and Claire subvert the usual robot tropes. They’re not trying to become human; they already are in every way that matters. Their journey is less about achieving emotion than discovering it: finding intimacy, vulnerability and even the fear of loss. In the process, Maybe Happy Ending sidesteps the flashier sci-fi traditions (while still evoking memories of stories like Wall-E) and offers instead a deeply human story, one that earns its title not through spectacle, but through quiet and bittersweet grace.
Maria from Metropolis, the perfect model for the subversive robot, FuturaOliver and Claire in Maybe Happy Ending
At the Heart of the Machine…
So few musicals feature robots, and perhaps that’s because it seems counterintuitive: how can a machine sing? How can something built to suppress emotion express the very thing musical theatre trades in? But in rare and remarkable cases, from the destructive chaos of Futura to the comic loyalty of Ariel, and the surprising heart of Mega-Girl to the quiet yearning of Oliver and Claire, we can see that robots don’t have to strip away emotion. In fact, they can clarify it. These shows remind us that even the coldest exterior can house a spark of longing, that even the most artificial creation can tell us something painfully and beautifully human. It turns out, in the right hands, even a robot can make us feel.
Today marks the anniversary of Memphis Bound!, an often overlooked detour in the diverse highway of musical theatre history. An African-American adaptation of H.M.S. Pinafore that swapped Victorian seamen for jazzmen and choristers, it’s one of several times William Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan’s operettas have been reimagined within a Black cultural framework. While purists might bristle at the idea, these reinventions have often done something that even their original creators might admire: they subvert power with panache and show how satire can swing in all directions. To celebrate the 80th anniversary of Memphis Bound‘s Broadway opening, we’re listing four African-American adaptations that took the topsy-turvy world of G&S and turned it inside out and upside down.
4. The Swing Mikado (1938)
First staged in Chicago as part of the Works Progress Administration’s New York Federal Theatre Project, The Swing Mikado transferred to Broadway after a five-month run for 86 performances. Based on The Mikado, the show switched up the original’s Japanese setting for a tropical island, while following its plot closely. Some of the dialogue was rewritten to approximate a Black dialect, based rather more on an idea of what might be than historical accuracy. Gentry Warden rearranged a handful of the show’s hits in swing style, incorporating dance breaks that could accommodate sequences based on the popular jitterbug, truck and cakewalk styles of the time. The show was significant because of its funding from the New Deal’s Federal Theatre Project, creating work, in this case, for the entirely African-American cast. Was The Swing Mikado a truly decolonial intervention? Arguably not. While it celebrated Black performance, it also leaned into stereotypes that complicate its legacy. At best, The Swing Mikado rattled the cage of operetta’s whiteness, perhaps even unintentionally.
Members of the original cast of The Swing Mikado
3. The Hot Mikado (1939)
Hot on the heels of The Swing Mikado, The Hot Mikado opened on Broadway midway through its predecessor’s run. It would run for 85 performances, and for part of that time, the two shows played across the street from each other. Producer Mike Todd was inspired by The Swing Mikado, but the Works Progress Administration turned down his offer to manage that production. Todd decided to channel his inspiration into an all-new production, adapting the book himself and hiring Charles L. Cooke to complete the musical arrangements. Part of Todd’s revenge was making everything The Swing Mikado did bigger and better, transforming a cultural artefact into a showbiz phenomenon. The Hot Mikado was glamorous, and the new big-band arrangements for the score, complete with gospel interludes, made for some sizzling dance sequences in the hands of the show’s choreographer, Truly McGee. The cast included Bill “Bojangles” Robinson as The Mikado, and there was plenty of spectacle on stage thanks to Nat Karson’s scenic and costume designs. All in all, this show was more about style than subversion; that said, the mere act of centralising Black artistry at the centre of a Gilbert and Sullivan classic was still radical in a segregated America.
Bill “Bojangles” Robinson and the company of The Hot Mikado
2. Memphis Bound! (1945)
Broadway took a break from The Mikado and the next musical in our list – the reason for the season, one might say – was based on H.M.S. Pinafore. Memphis Bound! would also play a little more freely with the original’s plot and structure, with book writers Albert Barker and Sally Benson using the framing story of performers on a showboat, the Calliboga Queen, performing H.M.S. Pinafore to raise funds when the Calliboga Queen runs aground and they cannot afford to refloat it. When the company is arrested for performing without a license, the frame story interpolated additional Gilbert and Sullivan material from Trial by Jury. Four original songs – “Big Old River,” “Stand Around the Bend,” “Old Love and Brand New Love” and “Growing Pains” – were also written for the show by Don Walker and Clay Warnick, who tied everything together with ragtime, boogie-woogie and swing orchestrations. Like The Hot Mikado before it, Memphis Bound! was another vehicle for Bill Robinson. Sadly, it shuttered after only 36 performances, following a mixed critical reception. For its time, it was the most ambitious attempt at restaging Gilbert and Sullivan’s comic operas from a distinctly African American perspective.
An image from the original Broadway production of Memphis Bound!
1. The Black Mikado (1975)
It would take another three decades for a more deliberately decolonialised Gilbert and Sullivan adaptation, another version of The Mikado, to appear on stage. It would also be conceived away from the United States, in the United Kingdom, where it would run on the West End for 475 performances. In an odd footnote, the production would also be performed at the height of apartheid in South Africa. This latter staging was produced by Des and Dawn Lindberg, the first mainstream West End musical production ever to play in Soweto, where it ran at the Diepkloof Hall in May 1976. Adapted by Janos Bajtala, George Larnyoh and Eddie Quansah, The Black Mikado featured a significantly retooled score, incorporating reggae, calypso, funk and soul arrangements. The plot reframed things with a deliberate critique of the British Empire’s territories, dominions, colonies, protectorate and dependencies, casting a white Mikado – the only white character in the piece – in the role of an uptight English colonial official who represents the Empire’s interests on a Caribbean island. The original satire of The Mikado – already recognised as problematic by this time – was refreshed using the era’s growing postcolonial consciousness. The Black Mikado was witty, sharp and musically vibrant, offering an actual re-theorising of what a Gilbert and Sullivan show could be.
The South African Company of The Black Mikado
From swing to soul, these four reimaginings of Gilbert and Sullivan form part of a movement that doesn’t simply recast musicals with African-American performers, but also increasingly reclaim and rebuild the stories from the ground up. Some lean into spectacle, others into satire. The current Broadway production of Gypsy is a part of this tradition and it is sadly surprising how much resistance productions like these still encounter. With Audra McDonald in the title role and a directorial vision from George C. Wolfe that positions Rose as both a legacy and a disruption, it reminds us how even classics can be revoiced with fresh urgency. Nonetheless, each opens space for Black artistry in a canon long dominated by white voices. Productions like these remind us that even the stuffiest corners of the repertory can and should be upended. After all, isn’t that what Gilbert and Sullivan were doing all along?
With Pieter Toerien Productions and LAMTA presenting a South African revival of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, and that revival having opened in Cape Town this week (where it will run through mid-July before transferring to Johannesburg), I thought it might be fun to run through the famous list of colours that Tim Rice set to Andrew Lloyd Webber’s music to create this week’s Saturday List.
The creative team of this fresh, fun and vibey production is headed by Anton Luitingh and Duane Alexander, who direct, with musical supervision by Charl-Johan Lingenfelder and musical direction by Amy Campbell. Choreography is by Duane Alexander and Jared Schaedler. Appealing young actor Dylan Janse van Rensburg stars as Joseph, with a sizzling Lelo Ramasimang as the Narrator.
Dylan Janse van Rensburg in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat
Last time the musical was revived in South Africa, I wrote a similar column using colourful references in show tunes, ending up with a column that has been a firm favourite with Musical Cyberspacers ever since. This time, I’m going for musicals that have names featuring the colours in Joseph’s famous coat. And in cases where no shows exist, I’ll pitch a few that really should! So without further ado, let’s get into today’s technicolor list!
Red
With music and lyrics by Cole Porter and a book by Howard Lindsay and Russel Crouse, Red Hot and Blue (1936) sees a socialite, a gangster and a publicity stunt collide in a zany political romance. Packed with Porter’s trademark wit and flair, it’s a high-octane romp with toe-tapping songs, including the wonderful standard, “It’s De-Lovely.”
Yellow
The Highest Yellow (2004) is likely to be one of the lesser known musicals on this list. Michael John LaChiusa and John Strand’s chamber musical explores Vincent van Gogh’s mental illness and artistic brilliance during his time in an asylum. It is haunting, evocative and piercingly human – and it deserves to be known much more widely.
Green
Lesser Samuels and Frank Loesser’s Greenwillow (1960) is set in a mythical village where men are destined to answer a mythical call to wander, leaving their families behind them. One man, Gideon, defies fate for the love of his girlfriend, Dorrie. Greenwillow is a gentle folk fantasy with soaring melodies and rustic charm. I wonder how today’s audiences would receive it.
Brown
In You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown (1967), Charles Schulz’s Peanuts gang navigates school, crushes, and existential questions in a series of whimsical vignettes. Clark Gesner and John Gordon created a beloved musical that captures both childlike joy and the deep truths we come to learn as adults. An Off-Broadway smash, a revised version was produced on Broadway in 1999, with new songs by Andrew Lippa – probably the best he has written for the theatre.
Roger Bart and Kristin Chenoweth in You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown
Scarlet
With music by Frank Wildhorn and a libretto by Nan Knighton, The Scarlet Pimpernel (1997) retells Baroness Orczy’s classic tale of an English nobleman who moonlights as a hero rescuing innocents from the French Revolution. This lavishly staged and romantic swashbuckler managed to spawn a group of fans known as “The League,” which kept it open longer than it otherwise might have run, even when performances were paused so the production could be reworked. In fact, this show was revised so many times that three distinct versions of the production were seen on Broadway!
Black
The Black Crook (1866) is often called the first American musical, although some historians will cite The Beggar’s Opera as a more significant precursor in the development of musical theatre. Charles M. Barras’s book tells the tale of an artist who makes a Faustian pact, making for a legendary blend of spectacle and melodrama. The score was written by Giuseppe Operti, George Bickwell and Theodore Kennick.
Ochre
It seems that ochre is not a colour that pops up in the titles of musicals. So let’s imagine Ochre Sketches, a musical dramatising Michelangelo’s early struggles, his artistic revelations and divine obsessions. This one could be rich in painterly metaphors – Sunday in the Sistine Chapel with George – and filled with Renaissance atmosphere.
Peach
In James and the Giant Peach (2010), the eponymous orphan travels across the ocean in a giant peach with a cast of quirky insect friends. A heartwarming and whimsical adventure, this show sees Benj Pasek and Justin Paul embracing the special subgenre of the family musical. The book is by Timothy Allen McDonald, based on Roald Dahl’s sophomore children’s book.
Ruby
On the topic of shows for families, Max and Ruby (2007), with music and lyrics by Carol Hall and a book by Glen Berger, follows bossy Ruby and her brother Max on sibling misadventures. It’s sweet, simple and perfect for younger theatregoers, especially those who know the beloved books on which it is based.
Olive
Here’s one from the depths of musical theatre trivia. Don’t Step on My Olive Branch (1976), with music by Ron Eliran, who collaborated with Harvey Jacobs on the show’s book, was a musical revue about global conflict from an Israeli perspective, blending satire and slapstick. It’s said to have been a bold and politically charged show; however, it only ran for 16 performances and likely has no artistic currency in today’s world.
Violet
In Violet (1997), a disfigured young woman travels across the American South seeking a televangelist’s healing touch. A lush, heartfelt and ultimately redemptive story, Brian Crawley adapted his book for the show from “The Ugliest Pilgrim,” a short story by Doris Betts, and his lyrics are set to the glorious music of Jeanine Tesori, the composer of modern classics like Caroline, or Change and Fun Home.
Fawn
Let’s jump back in time to look at an original burlesque musical spectacle, The White Fawn (1868), a bona fide nineteenth-century Broadway hit. With music by Edward E. Rice and a book and lyrics by J. Cheever Goodwin, it was a magical romp through fairy-tale realms involving disguises, mistaken identities and romance with a princess who was transformed into the titular animal. An early musical comedy with charm to spare, this was a respectable follow-up to The Black Crook.
A photograph from the original The White Fawn on Broadway
Lilac
The Lilac Domino (1918) sees a secret romance bloom at a masked ball. A wealthy old merchant, Gaston loves Leonie, but Leonie loves Paul, who has been promised in marriage to Georgine, Gaston’s daughter, who is courted by André, a gambler who is seeking a wealthy bride to repay his debts. Charles Cuvillier wrote the score, while the original German libretto by Emmerich von Gatti and Bela Jenbach was retooled by Harry B. Smith and Robert B. Smith on Broadway.
Gold
With music by Charles Strouse, lyrics by Lee Adams and a book by Clifford Odets and William Gibson, Golden Boy (1964) told the story about a young African-American boxer who grapples with fame, love and his cultural identity. It was electrifying and cited as being ahead of its time when compared with contemporary shows like Hello, Dolly! and Funny Girl. Originally written specifically for Sammy Davis Jr, it’s perhaps waiting in the wings to be rediscovered.
Chocolate
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (2013) is the second musical on this list with source material by Roald Dahl. With a score by Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittman and a book by David Greig, this well-known candy-coated cautionary tale with its golden tickets, bratty kids and fantastical factory wasn’t as good or received as well as everyone hoped it would be, and this modest hit was retooled for its run on Broadway, where it flopped.
Mauve
Which musical theatre team could give us a mauve musical? Specifically, who would you like to see craft a story set against Thomas Beer’s study of American manners in the 1890s, The Mauve Decade? How about Jason Howland, Nathan Tysen and Kait Kerrigan, the team behind The Great Gatsby? They seem well suited to create a tale filled with champagne waltzes and social satire, along with a mix of elegance, wit and pastel disillusionment.
Cream
Lynn Riggs wrote the play that become Oklahoma!, so it’s strange that his other plays haven’t been mined for the musical treatment. You’ve heard of Flowers in the Attic and The White Lotus? Well, allow me to introduce you to Cream in the Well. This haunting play is about two siblings in rural America who are bound by secrets, shadows – and an unspoken longing. It’s a dark classic that’s just waiting to sing.
Burt Lancaster and Nick Cravat in The Crimson Pirate
Crimson
Who want a little fun, full of pirates, passion, swordplay and stolen kisses? That’s exactly what musical based on the 1952 Burt Lancaster film, The Crimson Pirate, would be. The tale of a pirate, Captain Vallo, teaming up with a King’s envoy, Baron Gruda, who is on route to crush a rebellion led by a man known only as El Libre, seems primed to be a super musical comedy. A mashup of Pirates of the Caribbean with Something Rotten would be sure to find an audience.
Silver
Owen Hall, Leslie Stuart and W.H. Risque’s The Silver Slipper (1901) was a typical modern extravaganza of its era. Stella, a Venusian maiden, drops her slipper down to Earth and has to go down to retrieve it, which leads to comedy and chaos as she discovers the charms and follies of mankind. Its glittering Edwardian charm is too much a thing of the past, but it’s the kind of show that Jerry Herman could send up in “The Man in the Moon” – and what’s so wrong with that?
Rose
Rose-Marie (1924) was a huge hit for Rudolf Friml, Herbert Stothart, Otto Harbach and Oscar Hammerstein II. Like many of the most successful operettas of the 1920s, it tells a tale of love found, lost and rediscovered in a foreign setting, in this case, the Canadian Rocky Mountains. Rose-Marie is a young woman in love with a miner, Jim Kenyon. Her brother, Emile, would rather marry her off to Edward Hawley, a city man who will offer their family financial security. When Jim is accused of murder… well, the stage is set for solid-gold operetta-style drama.
Azure
Perhaps we need something abstract to mix things up – and as there are no “azure” musicals, this is the perfect spot on this list. How about a dance-driven piece, like Illinoise, but one where the characters sing and dance? L’Azur, Stéphane Mallarmé’s 1864 Symbolist poem, would be an interesting starting point. Its theme? The creative struggle with ennui and artistic impotence. Being a poem, there’s more atmosphere than plot to work with – but if Cats and The Wild Party can work on stage, so could this.
Lemon
If life gives you “lemon,” you make Lemon Tree, a jukebox musical using the songs of Fool’s Garden. Their biggest hit would give the show a great title song, and the story could be about a hapless romantic who waits for a call that never comes. I imagine something a little bitter, quite bright and surprisingly moving, a citrus-sweet Sweet Charity spin that forms the basis of the penultimate fantasy musical on our list.
Russet
Musical theatre characters love dreaming about going to Santa Fe, especially when they live in New York City. How about a musical that actually takes us there? That’s just what a musical based on Russet Mantle, another Lynn Riggs play, would give us. Horace Kincaid and his wife live on a ranch, having made their money back East. Their idyllic life is disrupted by their spirited niece and a job-seeking jack-of-all-trades who not only turns out to be a poet, but also a realist. Falling in love under autumn skies has never been this much fun.
Grey
Scott Frankel, Michael Korie and Doug Wright’s Grey Gardens (2006) is part fantasy and part documentary-turned-musical. Based on the cult classic about the devastating circumstances in which two reclusive women who just happened to be the aunt and first cousin of former US First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, find themselves. Big Edie and Little Edie Beale spiral from society darlings to eccentric isolation in a musical that is, by turns, glamorous, eerie, hilarious and strangely tender.
Purple
In The Color Purple (2005), Celie’s journey from oppression to empowerment is sung in gospel, jazz, and soul. With music and lyrics by Brenda Russell, Allee Willis and Stephen Bray and a book by Marsha Norman, this show earned Tony Awards for both Broadway’s original Celie, LaChanze, as well as the actor who played the role in its more recent revival, Cynthia Erivo. Celie’s anthem at the end of the show, “I’m Here,” has become something of a modern musical theatre standard.
Meredith Patterson and Jeffry Denman in Irving Berlin’s White Christmas
White
With music and lyrics by Irving Berlin punctuating David Ives and Paul Blake’s book, Irving Berlin’s White Christmas (2008) tells the tale of Bob Wallace and Phil Davis, two veterans who follow Betty and Jude, a duo of singing sisters, en route to their Christmas show at a lodge in Vermont, which just happens to be owned by the men’s former army commander. Nostalgic and tuneful, this show was not popular with the critics, but hits like “Sisters,” “I Love a Piano,” “Blue Skies” and “White Christmas” made audiences think it was wrapped in tinsel.
Pink
The Girl in Pink Tights (1954), with music by Sigmund Romberg, lyrics by Leo Robin and a book by Jerome Chodorov and Joseph Fields, references another musical on this list. A backstage comedy of errors, perhaps even the Smash of its time, it tells the tale of a ballet troupe that loses its theatre and ends up being a part of musical theatre history as they take the stage in The Black Crook. Unlike the show it was about, which was a huge success, The Girl in Pink Tights was a 115-performance flop.
Orange
Victor Herbert, Buddy DeSylva and Fred de Gresac’s Orange Blossoms (1922) is a musical about a man, Baron Roger Belmont, who will come into a sizeable inheritance if he marries within a year of his aunt’s death. The only complication? He is in love with Helene de Vasquez, a divorcee – the only kind of woman the will forbids him to marry. He decides to enter a marriage of convenience with Kitty Savary, so he can receive his inheritance, after which a convenient divorce will let him marry Helene. The only complication? Well, Roger falls in love with Kitty. Ain’t love grand?
Blue
In Black and Blue (1989), the songs of African-American artists like Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, Fats Waller and Eubie Blake are showcased in a revue celebrating the black culture of dance and music in Paris between World War I and World War II. Although Jerome Robbins’ Broadway snatched the Tony Award for Best Musical that season, this show celebrated the history of jazz and blues through powerful choreography and soulful performances from performers like Ruth Brown, Linda Hopkins, Bunny Briggs and Savion Glover. It’s great to have such a vivid and vital musical to round out our list.
Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat runs in Cape Town at Theatre on the Bay until 13 July, before heading to Johannesburg for a highly anticipated run at Pieter Toerien’s Montecasino Theatre starting on 18 July.Tickets cost from R175 through Webtickets.
Musical Cyberspace 