The Broadway Theatre Review: Cinco Paul’s stage adaptation bursts with affection, satire, and unapologetic musical theatre glee

By Ross

With one swift kick, the world shifts, candy avalanches down, and suddenly logic gives way to mayhem and melody. Sitting in the Nederlander Theatre, I felt that jolt of magic almost immediately, the kind that turns the ridiculous into delight as a familiar musical language comes out of the fog, twisted, celebrated, and sent high-kicking in every possible parody direction. Schmigadoon! does not ease its way into that space. It arrives with a superb confidence, fully aware of the traditions it is drawing from, and just as eager to run wild and free with them.

Adapted from the loved Apple TV+ series, this Broadway incarnation follows Josh and Melissa, our fighting, worn-out, and wet couple whose relationship has stalled somewhere between affection and obligation. Their attempt to reconnect hikes them down to a retreat in the Catskills, where a mysterious bridge materializes before them. It leads them, repeatedly, into the bright and shiny town of Schmigadoon!, a place where life unfolds according to the rules of Golden Age musicals, whether you consent to it or not. The only way out is to fully connect to the feeling of ‘true love’, or so a little, hilariously attired leprechaun riddles to them before laughing his way off stage left. It’s a wickedly playful framework, something Melissa embraces while Josh resists the music at every turn. And do they even know what that truly means or even feels like? That confusion becomes the engine of the evening, grounding the satire in something recognizable and human, even as the world around them kicks up their heels and bursts into song.

Schmigadoon! lands in that world magnificently with an astute balance of affection and precision. Cinco Paul, responsible for the book, music, and lyrics, writes with the confidence of someone who loves these shows deeply and enjoys poking at them just as much. Scenarios arrive with a clever nod and a nudge, as the material understands the mechanics of shows like Brigadoon, and Oklahoma!, not just in style but in absurdist structure. It uses that knowledge to build comedy that feels smart, playful, and just self-aware enough to get away with everything. Songs arrive with a wink, choreography swells with knowing exaggeration, and yet the emotional core never disappears beneath the surface. The humour works because it is rooted in truth, even when it leans into the ridiculous.

At the center of the production stands Sara Chase (Broadway’s The Great Gatsby) as Melissa, who navigates this heightened world with a sharp, smiling instinct and infectious commitment. She understands exactly how to meet the material, leaning into its theatricality without losing the grounding that makes the character resonate. Her early participation in the town’s musical logic, particularly in a gleefully over-the-top corn pudding number, sets the tone for the evening and establishes her as its most reliable and hilarious guide, as if she has been waiting her entire life to be handed a teddy bear and a follow-spot for her own Carousel dance break. Opposite her, Alex Brightman (Broadway’s Beetlejuice) as Josh serves as a pointed counterbalance; his stubborn refusal to participate becomes its own musical number, fighting hard against the constant singing and dancing, regardless of the prompting and pushing. He plants himself, smug and resistant, delivering a steady stream of delightful laughs that highlight the actor’s intuitive comic chops, even if the role leaves some of his vocal strengths untapped.

The supporting cast deliciously builds out the world with equal commitment. Max Clayton (NYCC Encores’ A Chorus Line), looking as handsome as can be, brings a muscular charm and swagger to the town’s resident scoundrel, investing his romantic arc with an earnestness that cuts through the parody. Ana Gasteyer (Broadway’s Once Upon a Mattress) delivers a standout turn as Mildred Layton, leading the charge with commanding comic precision, particularly in her show-stopping “Strife” and “Tribulation” number that lands with uproariously satisfying Music Man clarity. Ann Harada, Brad Oscar, Isabelle McCalla, and Maulik Pancholy round out the ensemble with a collective energy that keeps the stage in constant motion, each performance adding another bright note to a world that refuses to stand still and not sing out about love and romance.

Visually, the production embraces its inspiration with wide-open, loving arms. Scott Pask’s painted sets evoke a stylized pastoral world, while Linda Cho’s candy-coloured designs amplify the heightened aesthetic. The choreography, crafted by director Christopher Gattelli (Broadway’s Death Becomes Her), is a constant source of momentum, filled with high-kicking precision and expansive ensemble work that reinforces the show’s commitment to spectacle. Every visual element works in concert to create a space that feels both nostalgic and newly energized.

Under Gattelli’s superb direction, the production moves with a confident rhythm, translating the episodic nature of its source material into a cohesive theatrical experience. The pacing keeps the energy high, allowing the jokes and pokes to land while giving the musical numbers ample room to expand. The ensemble’s execution is particularly perfect, with a polish that never dulls the mischief underneath, delivering a level of shiny, sweet-as-pie polish that sustains the show’s joyous tone from start to finish.

What ultimately gives Schmigadoon! its impact is its sincerity. Beneath the satire and the spectacle is a story about connection, about the vulnerability required to meet another person fully and without pretence. Watching Melissa step into this world with open-hearted enthusiasm, and Josh struggle against it before slowly giving way, the theatricality stops being a punchline and starts doing something sneakier. It becomes a language for something deeper, a way of expressing the emotions that sit just beneath the surface. Carried over that quaint bridge by the music, the laughter, and the sheer joy of performance, the idea of ‘true love’ takes hold. The magic lives not just in the parody, but in the choice to believe in it, if only for a moment on the other side of that bridge.