Photo by Paul Lyden

Presented by North Shore Music Theatre 
Book by Chris D’Arienzo
Direction by Kevin P. Hill
Music direction by Peter Leigh-Nilsen
Choreography by Sara Andreas

August 12 – August 23, 2026
North Shore Music Theatre
54 Dunham Rd. 
Beverly, MA 01915 

Review by Craig Idlebrook

BEVERLY, Mass. — You have to hand it to Chris D’Arienzo, the creator of Rock of Ages: he doesn’t shy away from the wincing sexual politics of late-80’s hair metal. A successful production of this play must do more than wink about it; it must embrace it, much like strong productions of Grease did before it.

For better more than for worse, the North Shore Musical Theatre production bearhugs the raw sexuality of this boy-meets-girl story set within the raunchy confines of L.A.’s Sunset Strip in the late 80’s. The skin and the gyrations on stage were enough for the somewhat stoic North Shore Music Theatre to provide a content warning beforehand, before giving the audience permission to sit back and let one’s big hair down.

Let’s knock out the synopsis of the coherent-yet-perfunctory storyline in a sentence, if possible: two star-crossed lovers with big dreams meet at a storied L.A. rock bar, The Bourbon Room, as the bar is in danger of being torn down. Okay, two sentences: complications ensue.

That story is as much of an excuse as one needs to enjoy the howling guitars, crisp choreography, and unabashed goofiness of a pair of dreamers in the City of Angels.  

By and large, the cast provides the dual-threat skills needed to pull off this rock opera. Matt DaSilva stands out for his at-once chaotic and centered performance as Lonny, a bar mainstay and the play’s fourth-wall-breaking narrator. DaSilva bestows the Sunset Strip gadfly with a charming mischievousness reminiscent of the pixie Puck in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. 

He is perfectly paired with Evan Harrington as Dennis, the bar’s world-weary owner who has seen it all, who provides quiet beats of dry humor amidst the flashiness on stage. 

Also notable is Chelsea Williams’ portrayal of the young dreamer Sherrie; Williams provides enough grounded inner life to the character to avoid her coming off as a bimbo, which is a delicate line that must be walked given the setting. If she is just one of a horde of big-haired girls, then we have nothing to hold onto as theatergoers. Williams delicately helps us see that Sherrie makes the same mistakes as the others, but is her own person, too.

And Toneisha Harris is given just enough stage time as Justice, the owner of a strip club, for theatergoers to regret she is just a bit player in this production. Her voice owns the stage with each note.

The production struggled to fully harness the potential of this cast when I saw it. Once a scene rolled on stage, the action was often dazzling, but there were microphone issues in the second act, and there clearly was some dead time moving from one scene to another. 

And such downtime allowed me too much time to overthink the show, not a good thing for a fluffy theatrical production. Unwanted thoughts arose like, “What kind of bulk licensing deal did the musicals backers make with Tommy Shaw to feature a song from both his Damn Yankees era and his Styx era, especially when neither song was foundational to the hair rock era?”, “Will this audience understand this is making fun of 80’s sexual politics, or will they want to embrace it in some weird trad-wife way?”, and most importantly, “Why did this play decide to include that weird Flashdance-like thing of making exotic dancing the horror to end all dreams, as if showing nipples on stage derailed dreams worse than smoking crack?”

But luckily, another guitar shredded, another bass drum thundered, and another set of hips shook, reminding me that I needed nothing but a good time, at least for the moment. 

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