Golden is treated to a boisterous, irreverent holiday comedy with Miners Alley’s world premiere of Stocking Stuffers.

If you’re already drowning in Hallmark sentimentality and performative holiday cheer, Miners Alley Performing Arts Center has a cure: Stocking Stuffers, an adults-only, no-holds-barred comedic sleigh ride with book and lyrics by David Nehls and book by Betsy Kelso.

Directed by Warren Sherrill, this Colorado-made world premiere stitches together irreverent sketches, musical mayhem and meta winks into 90 minutes of pure, unabashed mischief. It is not your grandmother’s Christmas show — though judging by the laughter from the sea of gray-haired patrons at my performance, she might enjoy it more than you think.

The production’s aesthetic is intentionally spare. Scenic designer Jonathan Scott-McKean keeps the space open, elevating the three-piece band — Nehls on keys, Skip Lynch on percussion and Jon Cullison on bass — on a platform behind the action.

Festive animated projections shift subtly across the back wall, cueing each new sketch without interrupting momentum. It is an excellent choice for a musical revue that zips through dozens of characters, premises and punchlines faster than Santa’s sleigh on Christmas Eve.

The evening begins not with the actors but with a hilariously overlong, faux-content warning pre-show announcement that lampoons every well-meaning but tone-deaf theatre disclaimer you’ve ever heard. As the voice piles on increasingly absurd content warnings, the speech spirals into absurdity as it begs audiences not to sue … with the lone exception of the band. (“Fuck the band,” the voice intones, setting the night’s anything-goes tone.)

It’s an early indicator that Stocking Stuffers wants to offend everyone equally and joyfully, and if that offends you, well, this probably isn’t your Christmas show. For everyone else? It’s a blast.

Leiney Rigg, left, and Norrell Moore in ‘Stocking Stuffers.’ | Photo: Sarah Roshan Photography

A revue that revels in the ridiculous

What Stocking Stuffers lacks in narrative, it compensates for with sheer comedic volume. The four-person cast — Damon Guerrasio, Norrell Moore, Clark Destin Jones and Leiney Rigg — anchors the evening with quick-change virtuosity and the kind of natural, lived-in chemistry that makes every pivot feel effortless.

When the actors are not embodying a character, they appear simply as themselves, creating a meta, community-forward vibe that feels tailor-made for Miners Alley and its Golden audience.

Following the pre-show announcement, the cast appears as bickering carolers who have printed out a massive spreadsheet to keep the houses organized. This leads into the opening number, “Jesus Christ, It’s Christmas Again,” which declares the show’s thesis outright: Stocking Stuffers is the theatrical equivalent of novelty gag gifts you receive in a stocking. It’s silly, delightful and intentionally lacking in substance beyond the joy it sparks.

The opening numbers also showcase the piece’s meta sensibility, singing about Miners Alley specificities like the Star of David (Nehls) cocktail and even the husband-and-wife leadership, Len and Lisa, as their photo appears on the projection screen. Following this highly metatheatrical opening number, the fourth wall remains broken for the rest of the show as the cast flies through a series of sketches ranging from clever to hilariously absurd.

A morning news parody features Jones as an imbecilic weatherman whose AI assistant becomes sentient and starts trolling him. A recurring “Naughty Christmas Jokes” segment keeps upping the ante with gags like, “Why was the snowman excited? Because he saw the snowblower coming,” while Jones’s running gag of telling an offensive joke results in collective, pre-planned outrage from the cast and band.

A personal highlight was “It’s Jewish Christmas,” delivered after Moore and Guerrasio’s stoner musicians heckle the sound booth. Sound designer John Hauser (playing himself) reminds them that, as a Jewish dad, he needs to get home for Hanukkah, which leads into Nehls’ rapid-fire, reference-packed number filled with zingers, including a wickedly placed nod to Marjorie Taylor Greene’s “Jewish space lasers.”

From left: Leiney Rigg, Clark Destin Jones, Norrell Moore and Damon Guerrasio in ‘Stocking Stuffers.’ | Photo: Sarah Roshan Photography

Meet-cutes, magis and Hallmark hellscapes

Two major threads recur throughout the show, each hitting different holiday tropes. The first centers on a divorced couple’s first Christmas, narrated in Seussian rhyme by Rigg, guiding us through the misadventures of Moore’s exhausted mom and Guerrasio’s forgetful dad. Their storyline returns in Act Two for a surprisingly sweet reconciliation.

Another follows Rigg’s increasingly frazzled flight attendant and Jones’ workaholic office drone, whose meet-cute spirals into a rom-com parody. Their arc becomes the backbone of the musical’s eventual sentimentality, culminating in a quiet reminder to “be present” amidst the holiday chaos.

The two Wise Men sketches are another comedy highlight: three Magi rifling through a modern gift registry before launching into a jazzy, grammar-roasting rendition of “We Three Kings,” capped by a full-throttle scatting section that brought the house down.

The first act ends with Moore’s divorced mom dissociating by watching Hallmark movies, with the other three cast members each donning stereotypical parts in these films, until the power goes out. At this point, the divorced couple and potential lovers must deal with the blackout before concluding the act with a spirited song about “Stuff,” in which they encourage you to go buy some treats at the bar.

Norrell Moore and Leiney Rigg | Photo: Sarah Roshan Photography

Act two ups the silly

Act Two maintains the momentum. A raucous Name-That-Tune–style game rigged against an audience volunteer makes for an effective bit. A reprise of the stoner musicians brings a warm dose of self-awareness, while “Swing, Mr. Santa Claus, Swing!” delivers a hysterical portrait of a procrastinating Santa too distracted by Broncos football to get on the sleigh.

But nothing in the evening matches the obscene brilliance of the WXMAS Morning Show cookie demonstration, in which Moore’s straight-faced host introduces an influencer baker (Rigg), who gradually reveals that each cookie — from frosted candy canes to chimneys — is an increasingly explicit penis. By the time they “just frost the tip,” the audience is howling.

Surprisingly, the cast ends the show on an earnest note, with a final musical number advocating for carrying the generosity of the season into everyday life. After so much absurdity, the sincerity feels earned, sending audiences out into the cold with a warm glow and aching cheeks.

A hit for Miners Alley (and possibly beyond)

Technically, everything clicks. Sherrill’s direction keeps the energy buoyant, Crystal McKenzie’s costumes make lightning-fast transformations possible, Vance McKenzie’s lighting keeps every gag visible and Hauser’s sound design ensures every lyric and punchline lands cleanly. Most importantly, the cast’s palpable camaraderie makes the entire enterprise feel natural and lived-in; their chemistry is the glue that allows the show to rocket through its many comedic styles.

Not every sketch is as sharp — some riffs about different generations getting annoyed with each other feel familiar — but the hit rate is astonishingly high, especially for a new musical comedy. As I watched, I counted only two or three jokes that didn’t land, a remarkable feat in a 90-minute show that fires them at the speed of a snowball machine.

With its hyper-local jokes and clear tailoring to this ensemble, Stocking Stuffers feels perfectly at home at Miners Alley. The biggest question is how the piece may evolve in other markets. Is the script malleable enough for other companies to tailor to their region? While jokes about the Broncos and Miners Alley’s leadership kill in Golden, it seems like it might take some finagling to make the project work in other parts of the world.

Still, regardless of future versions, this premiere is a riotous reminder that there’s no one right way to celebrate the season. So, hire a babysitter, leave the kids at Zootopia 2 and get your ass to Golden. Stocking Stuffers is sharper, filthier and funnier than most new holiday shows dare to be, and it moves with such confidence that you can’t help but be swept up in its anarchic charm, making it a world premiere well worth unwrapping.