For every high-school grad who recalls senior prom as a triumphal rite of passage, there are probably several dozen who survive slightly traumatized. So why subject a group of socially challenged, neurodivergent teens to the ordeal? In How to Dance in Ohio – both the new musical and Alexandra Shiva’s 2015 documentary, which inspired it – the instigating therapist, Dr. Amigo (onstage, an earnest Caesar Samoya), offers a rationale: he sees it as “a classic rite … an opportunity to push ourselves beyond our ordinary routines.” Later, he describes it to an inquiring blogger as “a trial run for real life.” Really?
The dance is rechristened, rather proprietarily, the “Amigo Spring Formal,” as if the downgrade in rubric might lessen the pressure. Either way, onscreen and onstage, the tenor of the whole endeavor suggests that Dr. Amigo may have some unresolved issues of his own – that, in fact, the dance is not so much a learning experience as an exercise in ego gratification. Where the film skirts the issue, adaptor/lyricist Rebekah Greer Melocik ultimately accords Amigo a satisfying comeuppance.
So if you spend the entire first act fulminating that the requisite trimmings – invitations (brokered and prodded by Amigo), formalwear, crowning of the “king and queen” – amount to young-adult-cruelty, fret not. Or rather, go right ahead, because late in the game Melocik will drop the documentary’s warm and fuzzy aura for some catch-up accountability.
[Read Steven Suskin’s ★★★☆☆ review here.]
Meanwhile, the young performers who make up the seven-member core – all of whom self-identify as autistic – do their best to make us, the audience, comfortable. In a prefatory group speech, one performer notes the availability of “cool-down spaces.” All but the most easily triggered playgoer will want to hang in, though, to hear the melodies – buoyant to poignant – that composer Jacob Yandura has set to the text, portions of which have been lifted verbatim from the film.
Gradually, we get to know the young individuals (their likes, dislikes, preoccupations) – but only to the extent that each character allows. The most tightly wound participant is therapy newbie Marideth (Madison Kopec), who prefers to do her relating with a book or screen. “I don’t like that question” is her response to one innocent attempt at conversation. The character’s gradual unfolding is a marvel to observe. Kopec delivers two hymns prompted by Marideth’s obsessions – “Unlikely Animals” (Australian wildlife) and “Drift” (as in Continental) – with extraordinary poignancy.
As non-binary Mel, a budding herpetologist who serves as de facto guru for the bunch, Imani Russell conveys a laid-back, ageless wisdom. They help Jessica (Ashley Wool) sort out issues with her best friend, Caroline (Amelia Fei). If Wool and Fei play rather young for their characters’ chronological age, there’s good reason: the girls have been cosseted by their understandably protective moms (Haven Burton and Darlesia Cearcy). The quartet’s de rigueur gown-shopping expedition – during which the moms go a bit gaga, finally getting some vicarious kicks – come across equal parts amusing and sad.
Two of the teen characters are comparatively underdeveloped: Tommy (Conor Tague), who has designs on his younger brother’s tricked-out truck, and Remy (Desmond Luis Edwards), a gender-undeclared devotee of cosplay. Also on hand (and a bit superfluous) is Amigo’s daughter, Ashley (Cristina Sastre), who’s home recovering from a dance injury and debating whether to drop out of Juilliard. The role seems to have been inserted in the script in order to suggest that “high-performing” offspring also have the right to choose their own path.
Whether deeply or peripherally entwined, all seven aspiring prom-goers warrant the stage time they’re accorded. Still, one mystery remains. Fear of public speaking – of which stage fright is a heightened variant – is said to be the most common phobia among humans (surpassing death, spiders, and heights). At the very onset of the show, the characters confess to being flummoxed by the challenge of small talk. How is it, then, that the self-professedly autistic actors showcased here manage to take so brilliantly to the stage?
With courage and dedication, clearly. It’s an all but unfathomable leap, and they do not hold back. The eleven-o’clock number goes to Liam Pearce as Drew, a mechanically minded savant. Spilling over with confidence and elan, Pearce seems born to the spotlight. His summation song, “Building Momentum,” brings down the house. He connects all right, big-time.
How to Dance in Ohio opened December 10, 2023, at the Belasco Theatre. Tickets and information: howtodanceinohiomusical.com
