Hallmark Movie Roundup: Absolutely Devoted to You

Title: Absolutely Devoted to You (2026)

Actor(s) You Know: 
Jesse Metcalfe (Desperate Housewives, John Tucker Must Die, Hallmark movies and tv shows), Kimberly Sustad (many Hallmark movies, of which The Nine Lives of Christmas is one), Barry W. Levy (various things; totally a Hey! It's That Guy! guy)

Plot:
Kaitlin is a segment producer for a NY morning show. Her boss tells her that Kaitlin can get 90s one-hit wonder Absolutely Yeah to perform on their end-of-the-summer show, Kaitlin will become the executive producer. Three of the four members of Absolutely Yeah are all-in, but Derrick is now working at a community center on Long Island and doesn't want to be back in the spotlight again. Meanwhile, the community center is putting on a variety show to pay for the next year's programming, because that's completely how that kind of facility gets funding. (Well, maybe now it is. /sobs/)

Trope(s):
    Royalty
    Alternate reality
    Small town 
    Fake relationship
    Family business getting sold/going bankrupt ✔ (Kind of; the community center will go out of business if the variety show doesn't do well)
    Enemies-to-lovers
    Best friends-to-lovers
    Second chance
    Stranded

Meet Cute: 
Kaitlin tracks down Derrick in the community center, with help from his former bandmates. Kudos to her, she never tries to hide who she is or what she's doing, and she gets Derrick to say that if she helps make the variety show a hit, he'll participate in the reunion.

Rundown:
    Dead parents
    Montage(s)
    Christmas-related name(s) 
    Animals
    Returns to hometown
    Is Santa a character? 
        Secretly or overtly?
    Cookie baking 
    Tree decorating
    Somebody hates Christmas
    Christmas festival in a small town 
    A literal competition
    Child plays matchmaker
    All work, no romance/life
    Kiss before the end of the movie
    Interrupted kiss 
    Flashback to childhood
    The leads literally run into each other
    Gratuitous shirtless scene
    Big Secret
    Wacky misunderstanding
    Just. Talk. To. Each. Other.
    Someone pushing the leads together ✔
    Real family = chaos / bad families = cold and not chaotic
    Learns the meaning of Christmas
    Stranded by snowstorm
    Hot chocolate 
    Ice skating
    D-list celebrity
    Enemy-to-friend storyline
    The love interest is an ex
    Career change
    Lying to each other
    Tries to apologize, but keeps getting cut off
    Christmas pageant 
    End with a flash-forward

Did I actually like/root for the heroine? How do the lead(s) annoy me?
I will always root for Kimberly Sustad. They had a good balance with Kaitlin; she's ambitious and good at her job, but still vulnerable. And, of course, connects with everyone. Derrick is harder to accept. He doesn't want the attention of being a celebrity, but I wanted more of a backstory, more of his motivations.

Is it in any way not completely generic? 
I mean, he works at a community center trying to raise money via talent show. No.

Is the BFF actually the best? Do they need their own movie?
I 100% would watch the sequel about Sara, the morning show's costume person, who winds up dating one of the other boy band members. She and the boy band member both seem fabulous and I want to spend more time with them.

How is the romantic alternative wrong for the heroine? 
N/A. No romantic alternatives for anyone.

Thoughts/Other Notes:
First of all, why did they even MAKE this movie if they weren't going to include the original 90s music video for their song (which was, I admit, a bit of a bop)? I spent the whole movie waiting for the flashback and it never came. So here's the video of "PoP Goes My Heart" from Music & Lyrics:

Anyway. The movie is fine. Sustad and Metcalfe had basically no romantic chemistry. I did like the other boy band members and the group of teenage boys Derrick works with were a good bunch. I always appreciate when characters are good at their jobs. I'm just a bit disappointed, because I felt that this movie had potential that it just didn't meet.

Rating:
🧀🧀

It IS the American way, I guess

I usher at Ford's Theatre, where they--like many other theaters around the country--put on A Christmas Carol every year. I've ushered since 2009, and taking out 2020, and considering that I saw it at least two times each season...[insert math]...I've seen it dozens of times. Particularly when you add in watching A Muppet Christmas Carol every year.

One year, I decided to read the Dickens. Just triangulating the two versions, I could identify a good amount of what must've been from the original. (Including one of my favorite exchanges, when the charity collectors ask for a donation:

“What shall I put you down for?” 
“Nothing!” Scrooge replied.
“You wish to be anonymous?”
“I wish to be left alone,” said Scrooge.

A Christmas Carol is funnier than you think it is!) And from my viewing of various adaptations, there are parts of the story you're always going to see and some parts you're not going to see (we actually get another glimpse of Belle after she ends the engagement) and some that show up sometimes (the children Ignorance and Want).

We need to accept there are a million adaptations and there will be a million more (though, again, with Muppet Christmas Carol existing, we certainly don't need any more because that one is perfect). And now there's...this.

From just the most basic point of view, getting a backstory on Ebenezer Scrooge is not "the story we don't know." It's very much in the source material. The entire Ghost of Christmas Past sequence is Scrooge's backstory! Which is not to say that there's nothing to explore; A Christmas Carol is a novella; it's short enough that Dickens toured it and I know that FDR, for example, would read it to his family on Christmas Eve. There are definitely opportunities to go more into Ebenezer's childhood, and what changed for Ebenezer after he and Belle got engaged.

But.

This characterization, as shown in the trailer, is doing nothing for me. They're touting the return of Johnny Depp as "the master of misfits," which is not who Ebenezer Scrooge is in any way. Sticking out his tongue? Throwing snowballs? The whole "Humbug" in the window scene? Hard, hard pass. It just indicates to me a lack of comprehension about who Scrooge is.

He's not a misfit. He's not wacky or zany.

Anyway, a definitely pass from me. I'll continue with Craig Wallace as Scrooge at Ford's and Michael Caine on my tv.
 

Writing elevates this book club pick. Also excellent literature references.

⭐⭐⭐⭐  

I quite enjoyed The Wedding People by Alison Espach, though it was definitely not what I thought it was going to be. I probably should've paid more attention to the part of the book jacket that read that our lead character Phoebe is "at rock bottom, and determined to have one last decadent splurge on herself" and less to the part where she's the only one at a hotel in Newport, Rhode Island not there for Lila and Gary's wedding. Which is to say that the first chunk of the book is a bit difficult and full of things there should be trigger warnings for--suicidal ideation and infertility, particularly.

I couldn't give this the full 5 stars because I feel like people who have depression might have issues with the depiction of Phoebe; not her depression itself, so much, which felt to me pretty realistic, but rather at her somewhat miraculous bounce back from feeling suicidal (though she'll undoubtedly snap out of it, so...I don't know). I also don't know that we needed the scene when Phoebe's ex-husband shows up and begs to take her back and I have mixed feelings about whether everything was really just too neat. Of course Lila doesn't want to marry Gary, making Phoebe's feelings less of a problem...because of course Lila and Jim have feelings for each other. And of course Phoebe gets along great with Gary's daughter Juice, and of course a fabulous fantasy job opportunity in Newport appears. Life usually doesn't work out quite that well, but also, I do read books for escapism.

All that said, I really liked this. As an English major, I enjoyed the references to Victorian literature and I loved the setting--Newport is on my list of places I want to visit. I enjoyed how because Phoebe wasn't actually invested in any of the wedding people, she could be honest while also getting to know everyone without any preconceptions. The description of Phoebe's marriage falling apart, and the gradual realization that it probably wasn't ever as good as she may have thought. The looks at Phoebe's childhood and how they made Phoebe into who she was...and Phoebe taking this moment to change.

I liked her journey of trying to figure out her own life, past, present, and future, and I appreciated that the ending was left fairly open. Also, I quite liked Espach's writing:

Nat and Suz are excited to hear the story, and Phoebe imagines they could probably listen to it a thousand times the way her father could watch Vietnam War movies over and over again. Bridesmaids need the same kinds of stories soldiers do, stories that justify why they do what they do. Why they are willing to sacrifice who they are and a good night's sleep for the noble cause of defending democracy and Lila and Gary's love. (p. 112)

Under [her dead mother's] gaze, Phoebe was careful never to make any mistakes. Phoebe was quiet and obedient, never talking too fast or too loudly, because she never wanted to be a burden to her father. She had felt this way in her marriage, too--careful never to cry too hard or tell meandering sties at dinner. Careful always to wear nice pajamas to bed. Careful never to lose control. (p. 66)

But Phoebe is starting to understand that on some nights, Lila is probably the loneliest girl in the world, just like Phoebe. And maybe they are all lonely. Maybe this is just what it means to be a person. To constantly reckon with being a single being in one body. Maybe everybody sits up at night and creates arguments in their head for why they are the loneliest person in the world. (p. 151)

Recommend.

A night out with Carla Hall (but sadly no biscuits for the audience)

I admittedly only really know Carla Hall from her appearances on some of the Food Network's baking competitions (their Holiday & Halloween Baking Championships, mostly); I've never watched Top Chef. But I knew she had some interest in theater from her involvement with the musical Grace at Ford's Theatre back in 2022. But I was intrigued when I saw that she'd be doing a one-woman show at Olney Theatre: Please Underestimate Me. (The title, too, caught my attention.)

The show is framed around a segment about making biscuits on a fictional talk show, though as the performance progresses, it's not even really trying to hide that it's The Chew, which she co-hosted. (Also, sadly, the audience does not get to eat the biscuits, which was upsetting for me. I adore biscuits.)

Carla Hall in Please Underestimate Me. Photo by Teresa Castracane Photography.

It's a show that manages to be a lot of fun while also being moving and frustrating as you watch Carla's journey. I loved Carla's depiction of her time at theater camp as a child and her life pre-chef is unexpected--accounting! Modeling! Going to Howard with Kamala Harris!

She discovers cooking and winds up on Top Chef and The Chew, where the audience groans as the producers give her notes about how to behave and look and tamp down her personality. But we also get to see Carla grow and learn to stand up for herself in a way that empowers the audience (with whom she has some fun interactions--and she definitely has thoughts about how much audience members, even ones pulled from the crowd, should be able to improvise with her). It's an intimate show and you really feel like you get to know Carla. She tells her story in a way that makes it both incredibly personal but also universal. Most people will be able to relate to at least some of what she's gone through.

The set designed by Lauren M. Nichols is truly a delight, and Kelly Colburn's projections help flesh out the look, as well as delight the audience with pictures of Carla through the years. Young Carla wanted to be Carol Burnett, and you can see the influence in her performance. It's a very fun night out, and it does make one wish we all had Auntie Carla to call to give things to us straight. She's earned her wisdom.

Word nerds, unite

⭐⭐⭐⭐ 

A really enjoyable read, particularly for me as an English major who works in publishing. (Thinking about this, I'd say someone should write a similar book about The Chicago Manual of Style, but it doesn't have quite the same appeal or universality as a dictionary. But I would love it!) Author Stefan Fatsis is a sports journalist, but I remember him for Word Freak: Heartbreak, Triumph, Genius, and Obsession in the World of Competitive Scrabble Players. In Unabridged: The Thrill of (and Threat to) the Modern Dictionary, he embeds himself at Merriam-Webster, tries to get some words added to the dictionary, and immerses himself in dictionary culture.

It's a fascinating book. Fatsis focuses mostly on Merriam-Webster and American dictionaries, but naturally Samuel Johnson's dictionary and the Oxford English Dictionary come up quite a bit. Fatsis goes through the history of Merriam-Webster and the process for creating entries, some of which I was familiar with from having read multiple books (both fiction and nonfiction!) about the creation of the OED. The books is recent enough that Fatsis goes into depth about not only the effect of the Internet in general on dictionaries, but also AI and how it's progressed over the years and how dictionary publishers use social media to make money now that the sales of print dictionaries aren't what they were.

The book is also unabashedly political, which is interesting for a book about a dictionary. Fatsis goes into pronouns, including a lengthy discussion of the attempts and challenges to make gender-neutral pronouns happen (and, of course, the history of "they"). He writes about slurs and swears and the debate about how to include them in the dictionary, and how the definitions change over time. He discusses how politics affects language and evolution of words like "woke." 

There's also descriptions of dictionary collections and the groups who choose the word of the year and conferences for professionals and enthusiasts. Fatsis's description of the world of dictionaries is well-done, all around. Recommend for word nerds.

(Side note: I was consistently blown away every time Fatsis mentioned how much it cost to produce these things. There are times I hyperventilate a bit over the production costs of the books I work on [Don't pirate books, people! We spend a bunch of money to make them!]; the amount it takes to make an unabridged dictionary is...mind-boggling, though actually understandable. Clearly these companies are doing it for the greater good, and God bless them for it.)

June theater roundup: Pippin, Suffs, Othello

Pippin

When I was in high school, the guy I had a crush on--we were in a production of Mame together--told me I should get the cast recording of Pippin when I told him I got a CD player. So naturally I did. I quite enjoyed the music and it wasn't until years later that I learned what the show was about and, indeed, that the songs aren't necessarily what they seem to be. 

Candice Hatakeyama, Cedric Neal, and Emily Steinhardt. Photo by Daniel Rader.

It's a show where a director has a lot of room to play, and Matthew Gardiner at Signature Theatre clearly had a blast with it. Pippin is nominally the story of Charlemagne's son; he's finished college and spends the show trying to figure out who he is--he goes to war, he sleeps around, he's briefly king, he finds a widow with a son and hangs around her farm. It's relatable, other than the Leading Player (it's a play-within-a-play concept) ominously hanging around, sabotaging him, and promising (threatening?) the big finale of the show.

It's a strange show. There's some very cool choreography (the original production was directed by Bob Fosse and you can see his influence in the above picture) and a fun ensemble. 

The cast, of course, is incredible; I don't think I've seen a show at Signature that I haven't thought that. Cedric Neal's Leading Player was the perfect balance of cool and menace; I've only seen Pippin a couple of times before this (and one was more of a concert performance), but I felt scared of the Leading Player more in this performance than I had before. Eric Hissom's Charlemagne is probably my other standout, just due to his reaction faces.

The show lends itself to being weird, and again, that's Signature's wheelhouse. I enjoyed this production, but it's not pulling me to see it again the way that, say, Fiddler did. 

(Also, side note, I can no longer handle "Corner of the Sky" after seeing the complete perfect parody of it in Season 2 of Schmigadoon.) 

Suffs 

Suffs felt like it was written for me--a middle-aged, white, liberal woman. (And indeed, some of the criticism I've seen of the show is like, "It's written for white, middle-aged liberal women," while noting that Hillary Clinton is one of the show's producers.)

The musical is the story of Alice Paul, one of the younger generation of suffragists, pushing back against Carrie Chapman Catt and the old guard who are trying to cajole the nation into giving women the right to vote without antagonizing people too much ("Let mother vote, we raised you after all/Won't you thank the lady you have loved since you were small?/We reared you, cheered you, helped you when you fell/With your blessing, we could help America as well"). She organizes a march on DC, goes on a hunger strike, and helps move the cause forward.

Suffs company. Photo by Joan Marcus.

What I really liked about the show is that it shows that neither Paul nor Catt were wrong in how they approached their activism; the two approaches combined provoked and allowed President Woodrow Wilson (the actual bad guy in the show) to support suffrage. (I read a book about Jeannette Rankin, the first woman in Congress and an activist in the suffrage movement, and this matches what I remember from that book.)

The tension with Mary Church Terrell and Ida B. Wells was also, I thought, well done. There's the echoes of the Catt/Paul tension between generations and the frustration at having to choose between promoting women's rights or promoting Black rights. That Paul and her cohort didn't do enough is brought up repeatedly, particularly at the end in a scene I found fascinating, when a women comes to talk to Paul in the 1970s. Generation after generation, we criticize those who came before us for not doing enough. It makes me think of this exchange in 1776 regarding the inclusion of a passage on slavery in the Declaration of Independence:

John Adams: Mark me, Franklin... if we give in on this issue, posterity will never forgive us.
Dr. Benjamin Franklin: That's probably true, but we won't hear a thing, we'll be long gone. Besides, what would posterity think we were? Demi-gods? We're men, no more no less, trying to get a nation started against greater odds than a more generous God would have allowed. First things first, John. Independence; America. If we don't secure that, what difference will the rest make?

I will say that perhaps the music doesn't quite stick in my head the way music from other shows does, but I am tempted to get the cast recording, because I did enjoy the songs during the show itself and remember thinking that I would enjoy listening to it again. I know a lot of people weren't too moved by the choice for the Tonys performance--"Keep Marching," the finale.

That performance got to me, though, and is only more relevant today. The show's end is something of a hopeful downer--it's all about the need to continue working toward a better future, even knowing that what we might not come and it almost certainly won't come as quickly as we'd like (or need). But it's a call to action and one that's vital in 2025:

Make peace with our incomplete power and use it for good
‘Cause there’s so much to do
The gains will feel small and the losses too large
Keep marching, keep marching
You’ll rarely agree with whoever’s in charge
Keep marching, keep marching
‘Cause your ancestors are all the proof you need
That progress is possible, not guaranteed
It will only be made if we keep marching 

(Also, the original Broadway cast performance is streaming on PBS and YouTube through the end of July.) (And also, you can visit the Belmont-Paul Women's Equality National Monument in DC, run by the National Park Service!)

Othello

Honestly, when I think of Othello, I always get the Reduced Shakespeare Company's "Othello Rap" stuck in my head ("It was a moan-a/a groan-a/He left her alone-a/He didn't writer a letter and he didn't telephone-a"). 

I kept thinking during the production how it reminded me a bit of Jesus Christ Superstar (and yes, obviously I know Othello came first) in that the antagonist (Iago [Ben Turner]) gets a lot of focus, moreso than the title character. There's debate about Iago's motives for what he does, but the dude really does talk a lot; certainly a lot more than Othello. And if you're lucky enough to sit in one of the seats adjacent to the thrust stage and Ben Turner directs his gaze at you...it's incredibly intimidating.

Olivia Cygan (Desdemona) and Wendell Pierce (Othello). Photo by Teresa Castracane.

Particular to this production was how fun Othello (Wendell Pierce) was (at least early in the play). It makes sense--the guy just got married, even if it was under slightly sus circumstances. But he smiles a lot, he's joking around, bantering with his guys. You could see how Desdemona could fall in love with him.

I also really liked Melanie Field's Emelia (wife of Iago). I don't believe she has actual lines until late in the play (the Othello Rap reports that we meet her in Act Four), but director Simon Godwin has her on stage from the very start of the play. Watching her interact with Iago and Desdemona is something of a gut punch; she clearly is very into her husband and wants to help him, to the point where I was trying to remember how complicit she was in his schemes. 

Again, of course the acting was excellent, but Godwin's staging is overall fantastic. Othello's soldiers are very present throughout the show, and I loved their choreography. I also think I enjoy the relative lack of side plots in the play.

  

Comforting as a jigsaw

⭐⭐⭐⭐

The Fellowship of Puzzlemakers is a charming book about various types of love and friendship and finding your people and knowing that it's never too late in life. Clayton Stumper was left at the door of the Fellowship of Puzzlemakers in Bedfordshire, England, in the early 90s and is taken in by founding member Pippa Allsbrook. When she dies 25 years later, Clayton follows the clues she left to try to figure out who he is. The book jumps between the founding of the Fellowship and Clayton's quest.

I am actually not that much of a puzzle person--unless you consider trivia to be a puzzle, which the Fellowship does. Even so, I still found the book appealing. Their membership includes all sorts of puzzles, games, mazes, crosswords, and so on. Pippa lost her parents young and was raised by an uncaring aunt, then grew up to make crossword puzzles for a newspaper. She found a group of like-minded folks and by force of will brought them together.

Clayton, now 25, has spent his life with this group of older folks, living a pretty quiet life. He and Pip were close and he has the other members of the Fellowship, and doesn't really have friends his own age. So when Pip spurs him on after her death, he faces a learning curve.

Author Samuel Burr manages to portray Clayton as being a bit sheltered, a bit shy, without him coming across as too twee. He has his routines and enjoys his life but knows that's probably missing out and it stops him from being a frustrating character. The various members of the Fellowship all have their foibles and their stories.

Because of the framing device of Clayton with flashbacks to the earlier days of the Fellowship, we know certain things, which I honestly found comforting as I read the book. I didn't have to worry too much about the resolution of various issues that popped up for Pippa.

There was also a lovely little bit of romance for Clayton; it definitely isn't the point of the story, but it's well done, doesn't overtake the story, and manages to pull together a few of the story strings.

Recommend if you're in the mood for some cozy fiction.

A collision of murder and post-Revolutionary America

⭐⭐⭐⭐

Probably a 3.5, but I'm rounding up, mostly because I learned about a part of history that I didn't know much about.

In Kingdom of Devils: A Tale of Murder in the Shadow of the American Revolution, author Katherine Grandjean combines two of my areas of interest--true crime and early American history. Brothers Wiley and Micajah Harp went on a killing spree in Tennessee and Kentucky at the end of the 18th century, killing almost indiscriminately in what was then the country's frontier. The story of the brothers, who might be America's first serial killers, remained ensconced in the lore of that part of country, though many of the details are sketchy. Grandjean goes beyond the passed-down stories to go after the facts of the killings, while also connecting the murder spree to the mindset of America during George Washington's Presidency.

Grandjean dug through the records to find the historical Harp brothers--court cases, legal documents. She inserts herself throughout the narrative, which I have mixed feelings about; as a history major, I enjoy learning about her process. At the same time, though, I don't necessarily want that in the story; that's what introductions or afterwords are for.

Ultimately, though, I got frustrated at Grandjean coming up a hypothesis for why the Harps did what they did and then state motivations as given: "The Harps were just the sort of men who Kentucky's gentry feared were coming for their share. And maybe that was the point" (loc. 2047). 

Rampage killing, almost always, is about revenge. It isn't about savoring violence. It isn't about any of the perverse, sadistic pleasures that we associate with modern serial killers. It isn't usually about worldly or material things to be gained once the victims are dead. The gains are mostly psychological: It is about having the last word, about vengeance against those who have caused the killer's unhappiness. Others must be made to suffer "as he has in the past," criminologist James Alan Fox writes of the typical offender. (loc. 2261) 

Her theory is that the Harps tried to do things right--buy land, get married--but that they lost what they had due to much larger forces than their own actions. In response, they killed a bunch of people. Brutally. She writes about them as America's losers (in a way that makes me think of Sondheim's Assassins), about how the Revolution turned the world upside down and made men think they were equal and get upset when they don't realize the American dream:

In ways that historians have not quite grasped, some of the murders of Wiley Harp's era are tied to the very core meanings of the American Revolution--the defining features of the republic itself. Appalachia's disease may only have been a more severe case of something that infected men across the United States in the wake of the American Revolution. Everywhere, in the new republic, men struggled. Shaken free of traditional safety nets, loosed into new places without family, and drunk on a giddy cocktail of new markets and new expectations, they stumbled. Then they fell. (loc. 1404)

(I also don't love the "In way that historians have not quite grasped" here.)

It's not that I don't think she's right; losing everything does drive people to extreme acts of violence. It's the connections to the ethos of the American Revolution that I'm not sure of: "In America, men compete. That is the basic ethos. To be American is to cherish the idea of material success, which, you understand, will be chased by everyone, competitively. But what happens when men fail to realize the dream? Or worse, when they feel it has been robbed from them, or withheld unfairly?" (loc. 1500). 

Murder was its own kind of treason. An affront to the state itself. An affront to the people, as it tore at the very foundations of society. That was how it stood in American law and in American minds, and that is how best to understand Wiley and Micajah Harp. American society--with all its promises--had not worked for them. . . . So in 1798, he decided to step out of society and levy his own little war on its people. . . . Murder, in the end, is social protest. (loc. 2745)

Grandjean is honing on something that is still very much talked about today, with the talk of the male loneliness epidemic and similar. I think she's right, in that the Harps saw their dreams of owning land and living presumably quiet lives with their families being taken away from them. And I'll say that I really appreciated Grandjean going into details about the fickleness of land ownership and deeds at the time, and the relations with Native Americans and their relationships with early American governments, and that while the Revolution may have changed how men saw each other, that didn't particularly change how women were treated. There's a lot of detail and narrative about the early United States that was really interesting and is why I rated this book as high as I did.

I guess it comes down to whether the various storylines in the early American period percolating in the background really affected the Harps. Grandjean mentions at one point a study that showed violence increasing during times of political turmoil in the country, so maybe people are affected. I guess the question for me is, how much of "The world screwed me over, so I'm going to go on a killing spree?" is actually political? And I don't know that it is. In that vein, how political are the murders of Sweeney Todd?

I will say that this book provided a lot of food for thought.

Many thanks to NetGalley and Random House for an advanced reader copy of this book.

Let's try to learn from the past

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 

I like history and nonfiction, but I've found I can't really handle reading nonfiction about contemporary events. I like historical nonfiction because I know how things end and how everything turned out. The story of January 6th...well. We know how it ended, namely, that there were no real consequences. It's upsetting, and reading the details of the day in Storm at the Capitol just make it more upsetting, and it does somewhat lead to spiraling about the current state of the country.

Author Mary Clare Jalonick was in the Capitol that day to cover the certification of the 2020 election; she includes her own story at the end of the book. I appreciated that Jalonick limits the book to January 6th itself; it starts that morning and ends in the early hours of January 7th. She doesn't bother going through the election and the lies and the lawsuits and the rulings. In the beginning, she just notes that the election wasn't stolen--there's no evidence. And it's treated as the truth that it is.

This book should be required reading for everyone. Jalonick includes quotes from Republicans, Democrats, rioters, DC police, Capitol police, staffers, journalists. She includes Trump's tweets from throughout the day. Watching events unfold on tv, I was horrified, but it was so much worse than what it looked like. The descriptions of the fights between the police and the rioters are harrowing. (Though I could've done without the police frequently referring to "antifa" as though that's a real group when discussing the 2020 protests.)

The book also brought back the feelings of the Covid lockdowns and strangeness of being around other people; Jalonick mentions various officials having just gotten or about to get their vaccines. What a strange, awful time for the country (and the world).

The fact that the current president has not only pardoned the people who caused this damage--physical, emotional, and philosophical--but is also trying to give them money defies comprehension...though, of course, he was at the root of the riot itself. It's amazing how quickly some of the people who feared for their lives began undercutting their own experiences.

Primary sources like this are invaluable, particularly in today's landscape. Highly recommend, though it will depress and horrify you.

Adams, Franklin, Jefferson, and the other demigods in Ford's 1776

I was momentarily surprised when Ford's Theatre announced its 2025-26 season and 1776 was on there--they had done the show in 2003 and 2012--and then I realized. Of course. America's 250th. An event I'd been excited about for years but just can't get excited about in reality.

And yet. 

I found myself in a theater full of people applauding the line "The count being twelve to none with one abstention, the resolution on independence—is adopted" and I choked up. I saw Ford's production five times this run, and in most of them, people applauded that moment. I saw the productions in 2003 and 2012. I saw it on Broadway in 1997 and the Encores production in 2016. I've never experienced audiences reacting that way. And it got to me. Even in 2026, the idea of the United States of America still has a hold on me.

The show does hit differently depending on what's going on in the world. This go-round, I was particularly hit by John Hancock (Thomas Adrian Simpson) voting that the resolution on independence would need to be unanimous, seemingly dooming the proposition: "Don't you see that any colony who opposes independence will be forced to fight on the side of England—that we'll be setting brother against brother, that our new nation will carry as its emblem the mark of Cain?" 

I generally think of the slavery debate in Act Two as what causes the United States to be carrying that mark of Cain (Adams: "Mark me, Franklin, if we give in on this issue, posterity will never forgive us"). But this time around, it's that idea of disunity. True, the colonies come together and unanimously vote for independence. And while John Dickinson's "Don't forget that most men with nothing would rather protect the possibility of becoming rich than face the reality of being poor. And that is why they will follow us to the right" always resonates, the concept of trying to keep the country from turning on itself is what stuck with me in this run.

Jonathan Atkinson as John Adams and the Ford's Theatre cast of 1776. Photo by Scott Suchman.

 

I've seen 1776, both the movie and the stage version, many many times. Many times. And listened to the Original Broadway Cast recording countless times. Those performances are ingrained in me in such a way that it's hard to try to evaluate other versions without just comparing them to the version that's in my head.

That said, Ford's did a great job. There are things about the production I didn't particularly like, but there were many things about it I absolutely loved. Above all, the acting. Jonathan Atkinson's take on John Adams somehow didn't have me comparing him to William Daniels the entire time (with an exception; see below). Particularly, his relationship with Abigail (Kanysha Williams, who was also a delight in Sister Act last year) was adorable; they played off each other beautifully.

One thing I really noticed was how much the characters themselves seemed to enjoy each other. I read a review of the production that referred to Edward Rutledge of South Carolina (Joe Mallon) as the antagonist to Adams's protagonist—that's likely because of Act Two slavery debate, but I feel like some of it is because Evan Casey's John Dickinson, though debating Adams throughout the entire show, also seemed amused by Benjamin Franklin (Derrick D. Truby, Jr.) and Adams. The movie's Dickinson comes across as more sneering than Casey, I think. In general, this group seemed to be the way we kind of wish all our politicians would act—disagree with each other, debate each other, but respect each other, too. And enjoy each other's company.

The production also used the ensemble in interesting ways, like bringing in various actors to be the Lees of Virginia, or having characters in the back of the set, clearly leading their own lives but providing vocal support during songs. And the choreography was neat! "Choreography" is something I don't necessarily think of regarding 1776, but the movement throughout the show was incredibly well thought-out, particularly in "Molasses to Rum," which frequently involves the ensemble just sitting as Rutledge sings. (The show was choreographed and directed by Luis Salgado.)

I also really liked the use of projections (designed by Clint Allen) throughout the show; they were mostly subtle, but did a good job setting the scene at the top of the show and, of course, with the signing at the end of the show. They really hit in one of the show's highlights, "Mama, Look Sharp," which is a song that I usually don't particularly enjoy. But the projections that evoked Lexington Green (which I just visited last year), plus the actors' movements, plus the show's orchestrations (more below) came together amazingly. Hunter Ringsmith's Courier and Ricky DeVon Hall's Leather Apron were just perfect. It's now forever the standard of that song for me.

Additional shout-outs to the costumes, designed by Ivania Stack; I kept feeling that Dickinson was dressed as King George III, which fit. Plus, the costume for Michael Perrie Jr.'s Richard Henry Lee was aces—as was Perrie's entire performance. It's a super fun role and he was an absolute joy.

That said, it wasn't a perfect production. The set, designed by Milagros Ponce de León, felt too small and cramped. The lighting, designed by Venus Gulbranson, could be incredibly powerful...but was also too much at times. Similarly, there were new orchestrations by Daniel Gutiérrez that worked just fantastically well at times (like in "Mama, Look Sharp"), but that at times pulled me out of the show. There was a lot of use of African-style drums that was very very cool.

Salgado seemed to want to somewhat modernize the show, and it's felt in some of that choreography and in some of the orchestrations. And most of the time it worked for me. But it didn't always. Disappointingly for me, one of the times where it really didn't click for me was in "Is Anybody There?", the climax of the show. Atkinson's voice is fantastic—I just didn't love the modern drums in there and it was the one time where I did want something more like William Daniels's performance; I missed some of the passion, I think. (To compare: Atkinson and Daniels.)

And it continued to be missing at the end, as the names of the signers are read. The appearance of the famous signatures on the stage is fantastic, but it still came across as a bit too low-key. The production has the (in my opinion) overused conceit of actors coming in wearing modern clothing and changing into the costumes of the characters, and it's just not necessary (though, again, there's a moment where Atkinson and Williams interact that is lovely). So at the end, you have the signers with some of the "modern audience" members on stage and the music isn't as overwhelming as I want it to be and it doesn't quite come together. The end just misses landing. For me, the show ultimately just felt a touch too stylized.

Do I think people who don't have the show memorized, who haven't listened to the recordings and seen the movie countless times, had the same reaction? I don't. Audiences absolutely adored this run and I am ecstatic at how it was received. I love that Salgado and Ford's tried something with this production; it wasn't the traditional staging of 1776, but it also wasn't so different as to be off-putting. They largely managed to hit a sweet spot of innovation and tradition.