Musical based on Alanis Morissette’s breakout album transcends the ‘jukebox musical’ genre
Wildly emotional, tumultuous, and cathartic, ‘Jagged Little Pill’ addresses an expansive number of current issues from opioid addiction and racism to bisexuality and sexual assault. This jukebox musical, based on Alanis Morissette’s innovative 1995 album, tackles a lot in one show – and it’s a joyride.
The performance opens dramatically with a view of the orchestra (more like a rock band) on an above-stage balcony and the company cavorting along to the “Overture/Right Through You.” Next is the opening monologue of Mary Jane “MJ” Healy (Heidi Blickenstaff) as she writes her annual Christmas letter. She’s the perfect supermom who takes care of everyone except herself. Recently involved in a car crash, her injuries have left her with an opiate addiction that “helps” her deal with the day-to-day humiliations of suburban upper-middle-class life.
Heidi Blickenstaff as a supermom with an opioid addiction in ‘Jagged Little Pill’ | Photo: Matthew Murphy
While MJ struggles to keep it together, her husband, Steve (Chris Hoch) is sexually frustrated and craves affection. Wanting to be seen as more than just the bacon bringer, he puts his energy into work and his hardcore porn addiction. Son Nick (Dillon Klena) is the all-American 18-year-old golden child. He’s off to Harvard in the fall and struggles with his own fears of not living up to all of the expectations. Finally, Frankie (Lauren Chanel) is their 16-year-old adopted Black daughter who clashes consistently with MJ. Frankie struggles to find her identity in the all-white world she exists in as she explores her bisexuality with her BFF, Jo (Jade McLeod). She’s an activist that just wants to be seen and understood as she organizes rallies to raise awareness for those in need.
It’s almost an affront to call this performance (directed by Diane Paulus) a jukebox musical, because the music emerges naturally with each scene. Some of the most beloved songs come right out of the dramatic content, instead of haphazardly stuck into a scene as mere accessories. Diablo Cody’s supportive book interprets Morissette’s songs as a universal domestic drama narrated in heart-twisting songs. This is what makes the musical so wickedly astute.
And then there’s the performers. This stage is jam-packed with talent. The choreography (Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui) is rebellious, full-bodied, and shapes the ensemble into a chorus of young people who are unafraid to take up space. They’re there for each scene, witnessing even the most intimate of moments.
The unforgettable numbers roll one after the other. Each character sings portions of “All I Really Want,” expressing their frustrations with their lives. Then “Hand in My Pocket” provides a carefree moment with Jo and Frankie. And then MJ’s haunting “Smiling” includes mesmerizing choreography as it moves forward and then rewinds. “Ironic” is set in a creative-writing class (with spinning desks, may I add) where Frankie unsuccessfully tries to read her poem aloud while her classmates hilariously point out that the examples she uses are not, in fact, ironic.
Jade McLeod and Lauren Chanel | Photo: Matthew Murphy
The scenes intensify with “Wake Up”, setting the tone for the second act. There is a sexual assault at a high school party. Bella (Allison Sheppard) is blackout drunk and the boy, Andrew (Jordan Quisno), is indifferent and dismissive. Both Nick and Frankie are at the party. No one, including Nick, does anything to intervene. And like any horrible personal tragedy, it’s debated on social media by practically the entire school. Frankie’s quest for justice for Bella and resentment of her mother who chooses to ignore what happened, widens the gap between them.
Act 2 brings moments that transcend. There are protests, marriage counseling (incorporating the fabulous song “Not the Doctor”) and a back-alley opioid score for MJ. There’s also a bad breakup when Jo discovers Frankie in bed with Phoenix (Rishi Golani). Jo is too often the background in this story. And Frankie doesn’t ever seem to realize what she’s done, nor care that much. Jo (in a show-stopping performance) vents with “You Oughta Know,” the album’s masterpiece of long-repressed rage. McLeod’s volume and intensity build to where they’re not just singing, they’re forcing that relationship from their heart. It’s a performance that leaves both Jo and the audience exhausted and exhilarated.
Bella’s story is the plot hook that gives the second act its focal point. Shepard delivers a lost, stunned, and beautiful character who is cruelly mocked by her classmates. She sings with heartbreaking clarity during “Predator,” one of the two songs that Morissette wrote specifically for the show. The choreography during this song is edgy and eclectic.
In the final scenes, Blickenstaff’s stunning performance is brave and vulnerable – the opposite of her witty line delivery in the first act. She conveys enormous strength as MJ embarks down a dark path with an overdose and then rehab. Cherkaqui’s beautiful choreography of MJ’s conflict with her past is astoundingly played out between Blickenstaff and Jen VanElslander (ensemble).
Laughter abounds in Jagged’s book, with humor-quipping characters from Blickenstaff and McLeod to the coffee shop moms, an overworked high school teacher and overly critical classmates.
Although the show addresses profound current issues in head-spinning succession, it’s a monumental treat and absolute eye candy. I found Morissette’s album a brilliant choice to narrate the phenomenal performances and above-heavenly voices.
Don’t miss it, and be sure to bring your teenager.
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