Wonder The Musical is a slick, bland affair whose admirable aim is to reveal the folly of bullying and bigotry. Rather than dramatize these things, however, the premiere work at American Repertory Theater in Cambridge takes for granted all the emotions and reactions it should be leading us toward. While kids may take to it, adults deserve fair warning: Wonder has its heart in the right place, but it’s the decisions made by the head that are subject to question here.
The source is R. J. Palacio’s popular young-adult bestseller, later a highly successful 2017 movie. All versions center on August “Auggie” Pullman, a 10-year-old born with a facial condition known as mandibulofacial dysotosis. (Alternating in the part are Garrett McNally and Max Voehl, each possessing an authentic craniofacial difference.) Homeschooling has allowed him to pursue untroubled his interest in science, but now his parents (Alison Luff and Javier Muñoz) believe it’s time for middle school, to which he gamely troops with an astronaut helmet in tow so as not to be seen. Needless to say, events will challenge his shyness and fortitude.
Equally needless to say, he will prevail. Why? Because he’s a Wonder, which we know because everyone keeps telling us so. In song and dialogue, again and again. The miscalculation here, I think, is that we aren’t allowed to discover things for ourselves. “You Are Beautiful,” Luff croons to her boy at length, after no evidence we’ve seen. An elaborate opening in outerspace, a passion of the lad, precedes even our introduction to him. The faculty (Pearl Sun and Raymond J. Lee, ebullient to a fault) drum up musical presentations on choosing to be kind and walking in others’s shoes, sentiments you can easily imagine Barney the Dinosaur conveying. (And in similarly bubblegum-pop musical fashion by Ian Axel & Chad King of A Great Big World.)
In Magic Marker ways, the show repeatedly strips itself of conflict and tension. A clash with best friend Jack (Donovan Louis Bazemore), meant to be a dramatic act one closer, dribbles away early in act two. We don’t even see much bullying, but for a Gorgon caricature of a PTA mom (Sun in a second thankless part). Her son Julian (Reese Levine), described as Auggie’s chief tormentor, posts a rude note and photo, promptly apologizes, and repents within five minutes. So much for the “war” between Auggie and classmates – as so often in this production, commented upon but not seen.
Sarah Ruhl is credited with the libretto, but as she connects the novel’s dots you’ll search in vain for hints of the incisiveness of character of In the Next Room, or the breathless imagination of Eurydice or Dead Man’s Cell Phone. The one major piece of invention is a knob called Moon Boy (Nathan Salstone, way too broad as directed by Taibi Magar), an imaginary playmate for Auggie who, oddly, never interacts with him in any meaningful way.
Magar’s cast generally does well within their limited roles. For once the kids actually seem believable as middle schoolers, put through their paces with aplomb by choreographer Katie Spelman. McNally, my night’s Auggie, moves and sings adequately, though the part as written puts few demands on his histrionic abilities. The lone character given a full arc to play is Auggie’s big sister Via, with Kaylin Hedges powerfully conveying the frustration of an older child standing in sibling’s shadow. There’s delight in her courtship by theater kid Justin (Diego Cordova), and she’s given Axel & King’s best number, reveling in her “Moment to Shine” when tapped at the last minute to play Emily in Our Town. Which, by that point, I wished I were seeing.
I get that you don’t monkey around with a beloved YA classic, but that can’t mean you must render it toothless (cf. The Outsiders for a shining counterexample). Auggie’s travails cut far deeper in both novel and film versions. And no one is asking for the kind of fangs-bared exposé we get in Derek Tsang’s Better Days (2019), still the most truthful and heartbreaking saga of school bullying I’ve ever seen. But if the cartoonish aspects of the staging were toned down, if more honest character confrontations were allowed to crowd out all the shouting and pronouncements and hugger-mugger, couldn’t the musical remain true to Palacio and still hit us where we live? I wonder.
Wonder opened December 17, 2025, at the Loeb Drama Center/American Repertory Theater (Cambridge, MA) and runs through February 15, 2026. Tickets and information: americanrepertorytheater.org
