The Company of THE PROM. Photo by Nile Scott Studios.

Presented by Wheelock Family Theatre
Book and Lyrics by Chad Beguelin
Book by Bob Martin
Music by Matthew Sklar
Based on the Original Concept by Jack Viertel
Directed & Choreographed by Larry Sousa
Music Directed by Jordan Oczkowski

May 17 – June 8
Wheelock Family Theatre
180 Riverway
Boston, MA 02215

Runtime: 2 hours and 25 minutes including intermission.

Review by Helen Ganley

Floor-length dresses and well-tailored suits, a room full of bouncing balloons and floating streamers—it can only mean one thing: prom season. This high school rite of passage is so deeply ingrained in American culture that it’s almost hard to imagine a parents’ board canceling the whole event for one reason: two girls want to attend together. The Prom at Wheelock Family Theatre unfurls this story with energy and empathy, delivering a heartfelt tale of acceptance, community, and love.

A Broadway musical that premiered in 2018, The Prom follows a group of self-absorbed New York actors who descend on a small Indiana town to help a lesbian student fight for her right to attend prom with her girlfriend. With music by Matthew Sklar and a book by Bob Martin and Chad Beguelin, the show earned seven Tony nominations, including Best Musical. In 2020, it was adapted into a Netflix film, expanding its reach and impact.

Starring and shining as Emma Nolan, Siri Manju begins the show with quiet vulnerability—her voice in “Just Breathe” is innocent and clear, a gentle plea for acceptance. As the musical progresses, so does Emma, evolving from a songbird into a hawk, fierce and unyielding in “Unruly Heart.” Opposite her, Annie Parrinello’s Alyssa Greene is the emotional anchor. Her grounded performance balances Emma’s idealism, especially during the raw and powerful number “Alyssa Greene,” which left me absolutely enraptured and covered in chills.

There’s always something deliciously ironic about watching actors play actors, and the ensemble of Broadway washouts is full of scene-stealers: Maureen Keiller, Davron S. Monroe, Janis Hudson, and Elias Robles as Dee Dee Allen, Barry Glickman, Angie Dickinson, and Trent Oliver. Keiller brings a complex mix of ego and insecurity to Dee Dee, delivering “It’s Not About Me”—a villain song disguised as a redemption arc—with comedic precision. Monroe’s natural charisma fuels Barry’s exuberance, and his contagious joy in “Barry Is Going to Prom” makes his big moment feel like a well-earned triumph. Robles, as the self-righteous Trent, is slick and self-important in “Love Thy Neighbor,” using its catchy beat to inject the second act with renewed energy. As Principal Hawkins, David Jiles Jr. offers a much-needed grounding presence, reminding both the audience and the onstage chaos of what’s truly at stake.

The ensemble is exceptional, their tight harmonies and high-octane choreography turning the stage into a bustling high school hallway full of angst, hormones, and the thrill of adolescent romance. In “You Happened,” they lean into the kitsch of promposals with over-the-top charm. Arabella Hardgrave stands out as Shelby, leaping and sliding through each number with infectious enthusiasm. Leo Ruckenstein is another bright spot, his confidence lighting up every group scene he’s in.

Annie Parrinello & Siri Manju; Nile Scott Studios.

Larry Sousa’s choreography is the technical standout of the production. Group numbers are often at risk of feeling sparse or under-choreographed, but Sousa fills every beat with intentional, engaging movement. Zoë Sundra’s costume design gives each character a distinct identity, though the range of styles occasionally muddies the show’s time period. SeifAllah Salotto-Cristobal’s lighting design skillfully toggles between soft ambience and glittering spectacle, while Adam Smith’s sound design, though mostly effective, suffers from moments of imbalance—at times, the orchestra overpowers the actors and vice versa.

At first glance, The Prom presents itself as a feel-good musical packed with satire and sparkle. But beneath the glitter lies a sharp, thoughtful critique of performative allyship, generational tension, and the politics of inclusion. It doesn’t just dazzle—it challenges, asking its audience to consider what genuine activism looks like when stripped of ego and filtered through community, vulnerability, and love.

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