One notable name never comes up in 44: The Musical, a raucously funny trip back to the Obama era, written, composed, and directed by Eli Bauman, and currently onstage at Shakespeare Theatre Company’s Klein Theatre.
Historically and satirically speaking, you would think the show’s creator, who worked on Barack Obama’s 2008 presidential campaign, then briefly in Washington, D.C., wouldn’t choose to leave any prime targets off the table. Then again, as Bauman expresses in his recorded greeting that kicks off the show, 44 is about escaping the maelstrom of current events.
It’s a hopeful story told “in the spirit of joy,” and not every prominent figure we can think of aligns with that joyful spirit. So the name on everybody’s lips in this razzle-dazzle musical is Obama — that’s “Motherfuckin’ Obama,” to be precise, as sung in show opener “M.F.O.,” and reprised more than once for emphasis.
Lest anyone come expecting an exacting survey of the man’s presidency and politics, “M.F.O.” sets the tone for an irreverent, audience-pleasing, R&B- and gospel-tinged recap, told in sitcom style. Almost immediately, the show casts a comedic spell, stoked by nostalgia for the unmistakably good vibes of Barack and Michelle, acted credibly and sung impeccably by T.J. Wilkins and Shanice.
Wilkins, best known for his stint as a contestant on NBC’s The Voice, doesn’t exactly resemble Barack Obama, but he captures the speech and mannerisms of the charismatic senator-turned-President of the United States. And he croons beautifully through songs like “Red States Blue States,” a soulful call for conciliation in a nation divided by politics and culture wars.
That the country is also divided in the people’s response to electing our first Black president comes up for thoughtful discussion and sharp-witted derision in Barack’s “How Black Is Too Black?” The choreography by James Alsop is hilariously in on the joke here, highlighting with a few choice dance moves that Obama is a new kind of president.
Of course, Michelle Obama also brings fresh energy to the White House, announcing her arrival with the sassy “First Lady.” Conveying depth of character in that, and each song, and nailing the high notes, chart-topping pop and R&B singer Shanice carries her First Lady with strength and poise to match her husband’s, and to outclass their enemies.
Bauman gleefully re-imagines Obama’s political foes as secretly conspiring villains, which, in the case of Mitch McConnell (Larry Cedar), seems not just accurate but pretty forgiving, all things considered. There’s nothing forgiving about the second act’s comic highlight, “F.U.T.C.,” a proudly profane message for Ted Cruz (Michael Uribes), McConnell’s fellow member of W.H.A.M., the anti-Obama cabal of White Heterosexual Affluent Men.
They’re joined in their dastardly plotting by two who ostensibly, and amusingly, don’t fit the bill for W.H.A.M.: gloriously fey Southern gentleman Lindsey Graham (Ryan Williams, in for Jeff Sumner the night I attended), and hopelessly befuddled Black entrepreneur Herman Cain (Dino Shorté).
While Cain, along with W.H.A.M.’s secret weapon, Sarah Palin (Summer Collins), register as dated references in 2026, both resonate as examples of how quickly fighters can be tossed into, and knocked out of, the political arena. By contrast, Obama has in his corner two of the all-time great political survivors.
Ruefully ready to assist her former rival, Hillary Clinton (Jenna Pastuszek) gets her turn to vent in, appropriately enough, “My Turn.” Pastuszek’s pant-suited portrayal is funny, amping up Secretary Clinton’s reasonable frustration to epic indignation, but this is a parody we’ve seen before.
Offering a fresher take on the familiar, 44 strikes gold with its Uncle Joe (Chad Doreck), that other political lifer who, more than anybody, has his buddy Barack’s back. Shrewdly positing Vice President Joe Biden as the show’s narrator, recounting this monumental history as he sees it, the show grounds its insider view in their warm friendship, free to depict its subject with the outsized brotherly love Biden expresses constantly.
Embodied as a cheerful sidekick and big bro by Doreck, a performer much younger and (probably) spryer than Biden, this is bomber jacket Joe, the cool, Corvette-driving liberal who won’t stand for Mitch’s malarkey. He will stand up for his President, though, and does winningly, in song, dance, and rousing speeches that afford Doreck ample opportunity to practically walk away with the show, heartily repping the “spirit of joy” that flows abundantly through 44.
44: The Musical (★★★★☆) runs through May 16 at the STC’s Klein Theatre, 450 7th St. NW. Tickets are $44 to $207. Visit 44theobamamusical.com.
The second one-person show to grace The Shakespeare Theatre this season, Suzy Eddie Izzard's The Tragedy of Hamlet is quite a different beast from Bill Irwin's On Beckett. Right out of the gate, this has the feel of a celebrity offering, where the cult of Izzard is so integral to the concept -- and indeed the performance -- it's hard to tell where one begins and the other ends.
This isn't necessarily a bad thing, because, frankly, there has to be a pretty good reason to watch someone do all the parts in a play, especially something as inherently crowded and complex as Shakespeare. Izzard, with her versatile, high-profile career (encompassing standup, theater, television, and film) has developed just that kind of persona along with the ambition to master this particular skillset (she previously performed Dickens' Great Expectations).
A story told in fragments of past and present, Rachel Bonds' unflinching drama Jonah guards its mysteries closely. The play's fractured narrative, prone to misdirection, coalesces at a careful pace before the pieces, like shards of memory, assemble into a complete picture.
Studio Theatre's production, directed by Taylor Reynolds (Studio's triumphant Fat Ham), handily juggles the complicated plot while maintaining a quietly tense atmosphere. The foreboding mood persists even in the lighter moments between introspective teen Ana (Ismenia Mendes) and the boy she allows to sneak in through her dorm window, Jonah (Rohan Maletira).
The freaks are back. Over fifty years ago, an unemployed British-born actor named Richard O'Brien was putting together a show just to "occupy himself." The busywork paid off. The Rocky Horror Show eventually took flight in London in 1973, grabbed hold of Americans at Los Angeles' Roxy Theater, and then transferred to Broadway, where it folded after a mere 45 performances. Apparently, New Yorkers didn't care about the slab in the lab.
When the now iconic movie, The Rocky Horror Picture Show, premiered in 1975, the reception was equally as limp. Critic Roger Ebert wrote that it was "ignored by pretty much everyone, including the future fanatics who would eventually count the hundreds of times they'd seen it."
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