Presented by The Company Theatre
Lyrics by Alanis Morissette
Music by Alanis Morissette and Glen Ballard
Book by Diablo Cody
Co-Directed by Zoe Bradford and Sally Ashton Forrest
Musical Direction by Robert McDonough

July 24-August 16, 2026
The Company Theatre
 30 Accord Park Dr.
Norwell, MA  02061

Review by Craig Idlebrook

NORWELL, Mass. — I had some misgivings as I sat down to watch the musical Jagged Little Pill at The Company Theatre in Norwell. Both the theater and the play were new to me, but I knew the source material for the show as well as I knew the feel of a slightly oversized flannel shirt.

Alanis Morissette’s album of the same name came out during my second year in college, and its raw, unapologetic songs gave many the permission to express their rage, joy, and grief in a way few other works of art had. Listeners were drawn in by Morissette’s unabashed honesty and anger, as she tried to make sense of adulthood after a youth spent as an almost-famous Canadian pop star. The songs themselves were so good because of their unpolished spontaneity (Morissette and songwriting partner Glen Ballard often wrote each song in under an hour). How would that translate onto the stage? Would the songs be reduced to a hodgepodge jukebox musical? Also, would the production take shortcuts with the script and end up in melodrama?

Ultimately, none of my concerns proved true.

Jagged Little Pill is the rare catalog musical that manages to align with the source music without being bound by it. Playwright Diablo Cody, known for movie scripts about the complicated choices women make, leans into the imperfection of the play’s characters. Cody creates a book that mirrors the music’s vibe of ripping apart life at the seams to get to something better, if scarier, underneath. She also treats the music with respect but not reverence, ensuring that each hit earns its moment on stage.

Jagged Little Pill centers around what at first feels like a familiar story of a WASP-ish upper middle-class family, the Healys, grappling with the cracks of their seemingly perfect life. However, as the play catches fire, we see their struggles are fueled by corrosive norms of gender and rape culture that act as a toxic background operating system working in the background. Each must choose how much to pull away from these norms, and what price they are willing to pay to be free.

Co-directors Zoe Bradford, Sally Ashton Forrest, and Robert McDonough deftly create space for the source material to shine with this production. They pull authentic moments and build momentum throughout the show, even within what can sometimes be a visually overly busy stage and a very large ensemble cast of early-career actors.

While most every actor is strong on stage, the performances of Emma Keane and Dana Sullivan create “sit up in your seats” moments with this production. Keane infuses Jo Taylor, the cocksure girlfriend of Frankie Healy, with weariness and vulnerability, and her voice captures Morissette’s power but avoids any trace of mimicry. In contrast, Sullivan centers the play within the cage of the maddening passivity of her character, the matriarch Mary Jane “MJ” Healy, who hides the scars of her past until she no longer can. (It should be noted that Sullivan pulled off her character’s arc towards growth in the second act after the actress came out to check on someone who briefly fainted in the lobby during intermission on the day I saw the play.)

Also notable is Natalia Spear (Bella Fox), who chooses restraint and stillness in her performance to express her character’s confusion in the aftermath of a criminal act at a high school party. Spear’s ability to express quiet devastation makes it impossible to look away from the pain her character feels.

As with the source material, this is not a perfect production. Cody self-consciously gives us one too many problems to solve and not enough time to solve them, leaving a story arc about transracial adoption shortchanged. Also, the busyness of the stage sometimes requires a few characters to make some strange blocking choices. And it feels as if some of the male principals need a bit more work to fully inhabit their characters.

But like a favorite flannel that may have a cigarette burn or a missing button, these imperfections only make us value the theatrical experience all the more. As Jagged Little Pill reminds us, it’s better to risk being a bit rough around the edges than playing it safe and feeling nothing at all.

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