The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee at the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts


The word is: S-U-P-E-R-L-A-T-I-V-E

“May I have a definition?”
Something of the highest quality or degree

“Can you use it in a sentence?”
The Broadway Center Stage series, produced by the Kennedy Center, continues to provide SUPERLATIVE entertainment as DC’s (the east coast’s? the nations? all of the above?) premiere regional theatre.

The Kennedy Center’s prestigious Broadway Center Stage series kicks off their 6th hit season with a thoroughly charming, yet nonstop hilarious, production of William Finn’s The 25th Annual Putman County Spelling Bee. And fans of this now staple of community and school theatres are in for a treat with a gently revised book and fresh takes on all the familiar characters, but all the familiar laughs and antics.

Conceived by Rebecca Feldman with a clever free-form book by Rachel Sheinkin that meshes a variety of middle school misfit prototypes (portrayed by adults) with four unsuspecting audience members into an incredibly realistic fictional spelling bee. Moderated by a local real estate agent and a vice-principal, along with a gym teacher/counselor who all have their own inferiority issues, Spelling Bee is a beautiful blend of immersive theatre, improv, and well-tuned performances from the cast that makes for one U-P-R-O-A-R-I-O-U-S (“characterized by or in a state of an uproar; very funny, as a person or situation”) evening of audience-pleasing theatre.

P-O-W-E-R-H-O-U-S-E
Definition: “a person or thing of great energy, strength or power”
Sentence: “Bonnie Milligan’s POWERHOUSE voice is one of many unexpected pleasures in this revisited production.”

Tony Winner Milligan (Kimberly Akimbo, Head Over Heels), as Rona Lisa Peretti, a Putman County real estate agent, who also happens to be the champion of the 3rd Annual Bee, soft opens the show as she warms up the audience and reminisces about her love and memories of the event. Despite her career success, to a large degree, Peretti peaked at her win 22 years ago, and has a compassionate interest in the contestants who all in some way represent the best of her memories. Milligan’s larger-than-life voice brings a new life and increased energy to Peretti and gives a little glimpse into how the defining childhood moments within us never leave.

A-C-C-O-M-P-L-I-S-H-E-D
Definition: “highly trained or skilled through practice or training”
Sentence: “Taran Killam displays his sheer professionalism as a highly ACCOMPLISHED improv artist who slyly but firmly controls the action of the show.”

Saturday Night Live alum Killam (BCS’s Spamalot Broadway transfer, American Crime Story: Impeachment [Marco Award Winner]) puts all those seasons of thinking fast on his feet in front of a live TV audience to great effect as Vice Principal Douglas Panch, who is returning as the spelling moderator after a suspicious five year absence due to a reaction to keatmine (one of the updated references). The bristly, bitter Panch controls the flow of the evening, as well as the elimination of the audience participants when necessary, and Killam’s a total pro at maintaining that control and flow, even in the persona of a messy, out-of-control character, garnering big laughs at his own expense along the way. His best moment was his fast and unceremonious elimination of real-life wife Cobie Smulders as the first casualty of the evening, followed by his setup word for the “Pandemonium” number when he tosses an audience participant the word “COW” and elicits the best ensuing improvs.  

C-O-M-M-A-N-D-I-N-G
Definition: “maintaining a position of authority; controlling, superior”
Sentence: “Kevin McHale is a COMMANDING presence as ultimate outcast William Barfée.”

McHale, hardly a novice to playing schoolyard outsiders after catapulting to fame as wheelchair-bound show-choir nerd Artie Abrams for the entire run of Fox’s theatre kid favorite Glee, brings a reconceived energy to the unsympathetic character of Barfée (that’s bar-FAY, with an accent aigu). A loud, abrasive, socially-inept boor with sinus issues and a solid place on the spectrum, McHale firmly grabs the show and never lets go, despite often bristling with his fellow contestants—as well as Panch and the occasionally audience speller. While Artie was one of the more likable members of New Directions, Barfée is definitely one of the more unpleasant students in this competition. Finn’s score doesn’t contain a lot of memorable tunes, but McHale sees to it that his solo “Magic Foot” (each of the spellers have an idiosyncrasy that aids their spelling; Barfée’s is to spell the word out with his right foot in what becomes a mock Busby Berkely dance extravaganza) is one of the most memorable part of the show. I have heard many theatre insiders voicing doubts at McHale’s appropriateness for the role, which has been traditionally played as a larger, sloppier characterization. Even without those extra adjectives, McHale creates an obnoxious loser you can’t help rooting for.

E-N-D-E-A-R-I-N-G
Definition: “arousing feelings of affection or admiration”
Sentence: “Character actor Noah Galvin is ENDEARING as the gentle and sweet Leaf Coneybear.”

Galvin (Dear Evan Hanson, The Real O’Neals, Theater Camp), like McHale, succeeds playing against type. Traditionally cast as needy, neurotic teens, Galvin is delightful as the gentle, free spirit Leaf, a homeschooled contestant raised by a pair of former hippies who named their children after elements of nature (Leaf, Marigold, Brook, Pinecone, Raisin, Landscape…..and Paul?), Leaf marches to his own drummer. Thrilled to be in an actual school building for the first time in his life, Galvin is a joy to watch as he experiences being a normal kid (as normal as any of these kids can be) for the first time. His tic being that he goes into a trance to hear the spelling of the word, Galvin makes the word “Capybara” (a four foot long south American rhodent) one the audience will now never forget.

O-V-E-R-C-O-N-F-I-D-E-N-T
Definition: “excessively or unjustifiably full of conviction: having too much assurance in one’s abilities or judgment
Sentence: “Philippe Arroyo enters the competition as OVERCONFIDENT defending champion Chip Tolentino, intent on capturing the prize, but he ends up leaving with the audience’s hearts when he falls.”

Arroyo’s entrance marks Tolentino, the 24th Annual Spelling Bee champion, as a brash, self-assured young jock with a drive to repeat his title and take his opponents down at all costs. He’s not beneath bullying the easy target of Barfée and openly questioning the judgment of the adult monitors in their “unfair” and obviously biased choices of words for him (It’s deliberate, Panch apparently resents his being one of the cooler kids that he never was). But Chip has a handicap in the event that he hasn’t counted on: the onset of puberty. When he notices the enchanting Marigold Coneybear in the audience, his concentration is temporarily distracted and his evolving hormones react in a response that is completely at full attention. Chip’s lack of focus changes the direction of the Bee, and as the defending champion who is the first of the characters eliminated, Arroyo wins the audience over as we experience his frustration and shame. He also aids his likeability by leading the high energy full company number “Pandemonium” with amazing vocal acrobatics, and seals his place in our heart with a reprised appearance during snack break that is ultimately humiliating and hilarious (the other of Finn’s numbers you’ll remember when you leave.)

While the characters Sheinkin has written for the boys are stronger, more colorful, and favor the actors with many more opportunities to steal the show, the actors playing the girls step up and bring their best games to make their characters memorable also.

D-R-I-V-E-N
Definition: “having a strong desire to compete and succeed”
Sentence: “Beannie Feldstein as Logainne Schwarzandgrubenierre, the product of two gay dads who intend to instill their over-competitive instincts in her, shows off her comedic skills as a DRIVEN adolescent showing sings of cracking under the pressure.”

Even hampered by a lisp that Sheinkin inserts as an easy joke (of course all her words are heavy on the “S”s), Feldstein (Hello Dolly, Funny Girl, American Crime Story: Impeachment) gets maximum use of her innate comic skills as an ultra-liberal child who’s gay fathers have put more pressure on her to win than a kid can stand. (Let’s start with the thoughtlessly ridiculous name they saddled her with, from the pretentious over-spelling of “Logan” to the “Supercalifragilistic”-ally long surname they crafted combining each of theirs.) Feldstein turns those laughs into sympathy when her spelling instincts get in her own way. Feldstein, whose comic timing threatened to steal Hello Dolly right out from under force of nature Bette Midler herself are on display here, vying with other young comic pros to make her mark. She lands it.

P-E-R-F-E-C-T-I-O-N-I-S-M
Definition: “a personal standard or philosophy that demands perfection and rejects anything less.”
Sentence: “Leana Rae Concepcion as serial overachiever Marcy Park struggles with her PERFECTIONISM with audience pleasing results.”

Concepcion nails her portrayal of Marcy, the product of Korean-American parents who have aggressively over-parented their daughter to success ro her own detriment. Her Marcy shows up decidedly competent and the clear favorite to win, until she does some self-exploration during a critical moment and begins to take her life back. Concepcion has the most difficult role of the show because her solo “I Speak Six Languages” showcases all her numerous accomplishments, at which she must be top in her field. She is required to sing in the six languages (and can say hello in at least seven more), and has to demonstrate her mastery of not only linguistics, but athletics, gymnastics, dance, classical piano, and several other disciplines for the audience in an exhausting tour de force performance. The moment she comes to terms with the girl she has ignored to win those victories is a gamechanger for Concepcion’s performance.

H-E-A-R-T-B-R-E-A-K
Definition: “intense anguish or sorrow”
Sentence: “Nina White instills the sense of HEARTBREAK that young Olive Ostrovsky experiences on a daily basis into her captive audience.”

White is the sympathetic favorite of the show as Olive, a girl with an absentee mother and a father who works so much to support her he neglects her. Olive lives alone in a fantasy world where she believes whatever her parents tell her if it reinforces her desire to have the family intact again. She holds the audience in her hand from the moment she asks a latecomer to please not sit in the chair she has saved for her father, “when he gets there”. She holds them tighter when she sings her “I want” song “My Friend the Dictionary” about her dysfunctional relationship with Webster’s tome as her best and only friend. She seals it as we watch her blossom and find her tribe among these other awkward and needy kids in a place she finally fits in.  

H-O-T
Definition: “It means ‘hot’ ”
Sentence: “Alex Joseph Grayson is HOT.”

Alex Joseph Grayson’s character of Mitch Mahoney, “comfort counsellor” for the contestants who get eliminated, is the part of the show that has received the biggest 2024 overhaul from the creators. Originally, Mahoney was conceived as a grizzled, leather-clad, biker ex-convict who, as part of his community service, has agreed to log hours as a “comfort counselor” for the eliminated contestants of the Bee, providing them with a complementary juice box and a welcome hug. Today’s sensibilities find so much to unpack there, the most problematic being the fact that today grown men hugging strange children is strictly off-limits, especially in schools. So Grayson’s reinvented Mitch is a personal trainer who lost his gym (and his former fiancée’s respect with it) during covid. Now struggling financially and personally, he’s taking this demeaning part-time job as a middle school gym teacher with the extra income as the comfort counselor to help meet ends meet—and providing only juice boxes (and assistance down the steps as the exit). And yes, as this Mitch 2.0, Alex Joseph Grayson is hot (just watch his trampoline routine during “Pandemonium”). He is also funny with wicked, dark comic timing, has a phenomenal singing voice tested to the limits in the many gospel-infused “Goodbye” song variations, and a great actor showcased in his spotlight soliloquy where he questions his choices and the children’s, and maybe learns a little about himself through them. So yes, the word in the sentence is a bit reductive. But if the word was “Triple Threat”, the sentence would still apply.

And a brief note on the adjunct characters of the audience participants. From experience, this show works best when the participants are non-theatre types who are utterly ill-at-ease on stage, which plays into the sly humor Sheinkin has incorporated into her book. On press night, the spellers included two general audience members and two celebrity audience members, The Chew’s chef Carla Hall and How I Met Your Mother’s Cobie Smulders, who happens to be the wife of Taran Killam. The unknown audience members performed as hoped they would and were charming. As for the celebrities, whom the audience ate up, they ran the spectrum of possibilities. Hall, who as we’ve seen at multiple opportunities (she’d break out her tap shoes as often as her Kitchenaide mixer on The Chew), is apparently a frustrated theatre kid screaming to get out of the more buttoned-down role she’s been assigned to play in showbiz. Hall is a sweet, very personable extrovert and, as thus, couldn’t help but hamming up her time at the mike, making the best of the spotlight that was given her for 90 seconds or so. Smulders (introduced as “an exchange student from Canada”), on the other hand, graciously handled her time in the spotlight. Maybe she’s naturally an introvert, maybe she’s just a team player who understands her job is to be used as the show needs her, not to monopolize the show. She even, as the cutest participants occasionally do, forgot to ask for the definition and a sentence, which is where some of the best jokes are planted. She was also the gracious loser when Killam threw her a tricky word off the bat and eliminated her first. So a word to those applying to be (and those selecting who goes) onstage: While the audience absolutely and undeniably lapped up Hall’s antics, the better choice for the show is to always be a Cobie. Those in the show have been rehearsing and fine-tuning for several weeks. You’ve been preparing for about 5 minutes before your moment in the spotlight. Don’t try to hijack the show. It’s a good general rule for audience participation of any kind.

Scenic Designer Paul Tate DePoo III has exceeded what is necessary and delivered an exquisitely detailed middle school gymnasium decked out in school colors and banners hanging from the rafters for the event as well as all the school’s previous championships, even down to cleverly designed sponsor ads that could be press ready for real businesses in an instant. Basically a unit set show, no projections are necessary for this effort, so DePoo pulls out all the stops in dressing an elaborate gymnasium any local private school would spend big booster money to own.

Costume Designer Emily Rebholz has rethought the conventional designs associated with the show for a more contemporary feel. Most notably gone are Rona’s uptight power suit, Olive’s pink overalls, Logainne’s all-American campaign blazer with her multitude of left wing cause buttons, and Chip’s boy scout uniform. Everything is a little more relaxed contemporary casual, and many are deliberately a little big, like they were bought to grow into, but still unique to each character and incredibly flattering to each actor’s body type. Her original concept for Mitch 2.0 as personal trainer is perfect with his above-the-bicep cut pink polo and glute-hugging khakis which showcase his physique yet are stretchy enough for a trainer to move (as evidenced by the above-mentioned trampoline dance; seriously).

Lighting designer David Weiner’s design isn’t as flashy as usual, because the story doesn’t call for it. He opts for a warmer, subtler plot that enhances everything beautifully, and provides some solo focus when characters travel inward for an inner monologue or a flashback. His lighting is effective and comforting. And Haley Parcher’s sound design handles Finn’s complicated overlapping song vocals with a small cast and a large orchestra, fantastic as always, under the guidance of Roberto Sinha.

M-A-G-I-C
Definition: “the power of apparently influencing the course of events by using mysterious or supernatural forces.”
Sentence: “Director/Choreographer Danny Mefford creates big scale stage MAGIC from a small scale story.”

Mefford has a strong vision for opening up this very intimate piece of theatre for the vast space of the Eisenhower Theatre and executes it beautifully on a grand scale without losing any of its innate charm. He effortlessly translates the revisions to the book and the characters and takes advantage of the DC setting to incorporate a few extra requisite political jokes. He mines the solid ensemble cast for all the humor, both fast-paced and subtle, but likewise cradles these unique characters, who although played by adults are still occasionally fragile children, with finesse and empathy when necessary. His choreography is more musical staging than full out dance numbers, but he brings great energy to the larger moments like McHale’s “Magic Foot” magic footwork, and his full stage takeover of “Pandemonium” is low key thrilling. But don’t overlook less obvious moments like Galvin’s freestyle interpretive dance exit or Concepcion’s rapid-fire execution of all her dance and athletic prowess. But trust me, this audience laughed nonstop from beginning to end, as did this critic who has performed the role of Chip no less than 3 times and knows all the tricks written into the book and heard all the jokes and all the comical definitions and sentences dozens of times. But Mefford has legitimately created theatrical magic that makes this show soar for its entire running time. It’s easy to wow a crowd with big splashy production numbers and elaborate sets and costumes. But to wow them with perfectly directed performances, laugh out loud comedy, and beautiful, believable emotional moments, that’s the kind of magic only a special director can conjure up.

A-N-T-I-C-I-P-A-T-I-O-N
Definition: “waiting eagerly for something that is about to happen”
Sentence: “With yet another phenomenal production kicking off their 2024-25 season, I am anxiously waiting with utmost ANTICIPATION of what the Broadway Center Stage series is going to do there next.”

And yes, that next production is another landmark for Broadway Center Stage. After starting as an ambitious “concert” series of shows, transitioning into a fully fleshed out regional theatre production company, and even transferring their first show to Broadway last season, next up is the World Premiere of a new stage musical version of Apple TV+’s smash parody series, Schmigadoon!, in which a New York couple in counseling stumbles over a magical bridge and end up stuck in a land of golden aged musicals, a clever valentine and simultaneous skewering of the old-fashioned shows that paved the way for those who followed. Only at the Kennedy Center. And there’s no production company I’d trust better with the material than Broadway Center Stage. I indeed wait with the highest degree of ANTICIPATION.

Photos courtesy of Matthew Murphy


Running Time: Approximately 1 hour and 45 minutes with no intermission.

The 25th Putnam County Spelling Bee currently plays through October 20, 2024, in the Eisenhower Theatre at the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, 2700 F Street NW, Washington DC  20566. For tickets, call the box office at 202.467.4600 or purchase online at https://www.kennedy-center.org/whats-on/explore-by-genre/theater/2024-2025/putnam-county-spelling-bee/

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