Seattle Blog Theater

As you draw your knife towards the ham, you’ll not only find the oozing and fatty juice, but the intricate flavors that are a new take on politics, and breaking free from cycles.

The comedy packed play by James Ijames takes a spin on Shakespeare's tragic story, Hamlet. With chatter in the air and smell of grilled meat, we’re introduced to a modern day Black American family. We follow the family around as a spectator as the main character navigates through the death of his late Father. Fat Ham plays with the different stances of breaking stereotypes from intergenerational trauma and Black heritage.

Fat Ham stands out from the traditional adaptations of one of Shakespeare’s most famous plays: Hamlet; its typical dark setting turned into a comedic play full of identity, acceptance, and finding yourself. This modern take on Hamlet is a breath of fresh air among adaptations that feel repetitive. 

Written by James Ijames and put on by Wilma Theater, Fat Ham retells the tragedy of Hamlet in the festive and sunlit backyard of a house in the rural South. The story follows Juicy, a queer Black man, who struggles with the death of his father, Pap, and the recent marriage between his mother, Tedra, and his uncle, Rev. When Juicy is outside setting up the barbecue that will celebrate their marriage, he is confronted by the ghost of his dead father. Pap reveals that Juicy’s uncle, Rev, was the one who killed him and tells Juicy to get revenge. From there, Juicy and other members of the family are not only forced to face the chaos at the barbecue, but also their own personal problems. Ijames’ Fat Ham masterfully portrays social issues within the modern age and resistance against cycles of trauma. 

If William Shakespeare woke up today and saw Hamlet turned into a chaotic family barbecue, he would probably throw himself right back into his grave. And that is exactly what Fat Ham, a bold modern adaptation of the Shakespearean tragedy does. With an all Black cast, the story focuses on Juicy, a young, queer, Black man dealing with identity issues inside a highly problematic family. But right from the start, the production avoids the tension of the situation. By forcing constant humor instead of actual feeling, the script downplays the family’s pain, treating a severe crisis like an unserious joke rather than a meaningful tragedy.

The main issue with Fat Ham is that it refuses to take itself seriously, trading deep tragedy for cheap comedy. The adaptation ruins any sense of dramatic weight right from the opening scene. Instead of the creepy, tense, ghost encounter in the original play, we get a crude scene where Tio (the character based on Horatio) is watching porn on his phone right when Juicy finds out his mom and uncle are getting married. Honestly, starting a tragedy with a scene like that just feels completely low effort. By throwing in casual vulgarity and constant jokes during moments that should be emotionally heavy, the play strips away the real grief of the story. It doesn't let the characters actually mourn, treating a serious family blood feud into a casual indifference that makes it hard to care about what happens next.

To ham or not to ham? That is today's question for those interested in seeing the recent play adaptation of Shakespeare's Hamlet, Fat Ham’ Fat Ham transforms the original Shakespearean tragedy into a modern drama full of innovative uses of music, humor, and questioning on self identity. Set in the American South, we follow a family that struggles in choosing between tradition and a great change. The elders run a BBQ restaurant and the question is if the new generation will choose to continue or break the family business. This creative but imperfect story has some really good key aspects of it, like its music use or its humor, but their LGBT representation feels overcrowded and less impactful.

Fat Ham is a hilarious play by James Ijames in which Juicy, a queer Black man, gets visited by the ghost of his recently deceased father, Pap, who orders him to kill his brother, Rev. As the play progresses, Juicy navigates family expectations, grief, and questions his identity. Throughout the whole play he will discover new things, such as love, heartbreak and music?

A sunset looms over a Black household located in the middle of nowhere, constant bickering back and forth between elderly and the young runs on. All shot in long, impressive one takes, Fat Ham is a love letter to Shakespeare that provides plenty of representation for Black and queer communities that doesn’t take itself too seriously. It’s a really great and unique adaptation of Hamlet that I feel is worth checking out. So let’s dive into its strong points and weaknesses, shall we?

So what even is a Fat Ham!? Fat Ham is a critically acclaimed award winning stage play written by James Ijames that takes place at a modern southern barbecue. From the moment the film starts, I could tell that this wasn’t a typical reimagining of Shakespeare. Juicy (this play’s version of Hamlet), a young gay Black man is confronted by his recently deceased Pap (this play’s version of King Hamlet) in the backyard and he demands that Juicy should avenge his murder. The synopsis retains that Hamlet-iness for sure, but the scene is absolutely different. Juicy and Tio (Horatio) are dressed in very modern clothing. Sweatpants, camouflage hoodies, caps, sneakers, and long sleeve tees. Now, the reason the play is named Fat Ham? Because Juicy is “thicc.” Yeah, pretty interesting to say the least. The rest of the play isn’t worth describing, as it would take up too much text, so I’ll just skip to where the play succeeded and where it fell flat.

How do we take care of our world if we know its future is sealed? ArtsWest’s timely and poignant production of Walden by Amy Berryman asks nuanced questions such as this within a relatable and smartly-crafted family dynamic.

In an ecologically desperate future, Walden follows ex-scientist Stella (Porscha Shaw) and her crunchy fiancé, Bryan (Josh Kenji Langager), at their forested cabin, when Stella’s astronaut twin sister Cassie (Marena Kleinpeter) returns from a prominent space habitation mission. Old tensions flare up and spark between sisters, and both must decide how to reconcile the past and deal with the future. Relatable questions are asked within the story: can we love people with different political views? What is our duty to society? The play puts it forth to the audience to answer those questions. Walden achieves what most great plays do; it leaves you thinking and wanting more.Marena Kleinpeter and Porscha Shaw in Walden at ArtsWest. Photo by John McLellan.

A hidden gem lies at the heart of Centerstage Theatre. Disguised as a patron (wearing a wig if you wish), come with your ticket in hand and bring your best poker face!

The 39 Steps is a slapstick comedy take on Hitchcock’s classic spy thriller. Filled with thick accents, a sprinkle of murder, and well-timed suspense, even the most hardened stoics will be forced to break. Played by a cast of four, the 150 characters will make you laugh, cry (from the hysterics), and then laugh once more for good measure. This rendition by Centerstage embraces a bare-bones set to cultivate plenty of hilarious moments, underscored by a sense of hospitality that makes every event-goer feel seen. 

It is a powerful thing when a production can elicit frequent bouts of laughter, moments of quiet introspection, and tearful post-show hugs with family and friends, all within a 90-minute runtime. the aves accomplishes just this, transforming what appears to be a simple story of an elderly couple on a park bench observing the world around them into a wonderfully complex tale of aging, memory, sacrifice, and relationships. 

It is challenging to explain the magic of the aves without spoiling “the exchange”, that is so central to the plot, as it is not revealed explicitly until the end of the show. The plot features sci-fi-esque themes, which positively contradicted the assumption I had going into the show, that it would be a typical and realistic tale. the aves skillfully shows, rather than tells, the audience what is happening, which creates an engaging experience as the audience pieces together the puzzle of the plot for themselves. As these pieces finally fall into place and details are revealed, several gasps can be heard from the audience. Varinique "V" Davis and Jerik Fernandez in the aves at Union Arts Center. Photo by Giao Nguyen.

In 2002, Avril Lavigne spoke her truth: being ordinary is as good as being dead. The Best Damn Thing runs with that message, making its West Coast premiere at 12th Ave Arts just last month. Directed by Kate Drummond, the show follows Missouri teenager Ellie, who has written what she believes is the greatest Avril Lavigne jukebox musical ever conceived. But, she needs her former best friend Rachel to bring it to their school stage. The two-person cast and visually inventive set, designed by Jeremy Hollis, bring an electrifying energy that hooks the audience immediately. From the opening moment, the audience is drawn into Ellie’s room, a cluttered, almost overwhelming space where each object offers a glimpse into her life. However, in the show's attempt to be hyper-meta and its density of ideas, it ends up resembling its protagonist: overwhelmed by ideas, and ultimately unclear.

Before the show even begins, a friendly Dacha staff member hands out a set-themed I-Spy sheet, making it clear that The Best Damn Thing wants the audience to feel involved. The theater itself is tiny, with bleacher-style seating that puts you close enough to feel the anxiety radiating off Ellie. From the moment she steps onstage, Shannon Johnson brings a nervous, rapid-fire energy that captures Ellie’s desperate hopefulness. Moxxy Rogers plays Rachel with sharp contrast: dismissive and poised. When the two explode at each other in an emotional confrontation, both actors tap into something genuine. However, the script doesn’t measure up to the moment. The dialogue leans so heavily on profanity that the scene loses its edge; by mistaking noise for intensity, the cursing fails to convey the rawness of teenage anger.Moxxy Rogers and Shannon Johnson in Dacha Theatre's The Best Damn Thing. Photo by Brett Love.

Lisa Shriver’s production of Grease at Village Theater is nothing short of a spectacular remake of everybody's favorite classic that will leave you humming catchy hits for days to come. The musical is immersive, entertaining, and comedic, celebrating the high school experience of the 1950s whilst exposing the cruelties of teen culture. 

Grease encapsulates dynamics between friendships, relationships, peers, and teachers that make the audience laugh, and music that makes it hard not to sing along. The story follows the rebellious teenaged Pink Ladies—a gum-chewing, hip-swinging, and sarcastic girl gang in matching pink jackets, and their counterparts—the Burger Palace Boys, greasers sporting leather jackets, obsessed with cars, and not afraid to get into trouble. When Sandy Dumbrowski, a new student at Rydell High School, shares a romantic, innocent romance with Daniel Zuko, a tough-acting Burger Palace Boy with a hidden, vulnerable heart, everything changes. As the characters noted how the Pink Ladies and the Burger Palace Boys decided not to show, the actors spoke directly to the audience, establishing a sense of togetherness, community, and shared experiences later developed within the play. By bringing the audience onstage alongside the characters, Grease developed an immersive and nostalgic atmosphere expanded upon by the set design, choreography, and heartfelt themes.Maya McQueen and Daniel Velasquez in Grease at Village Theatre. Photo by Nikki Womac (2026).

On March 4th, I was invited to Youth Theatre Northwest to observe a tech rehearsal for their production of Chicago: Teen Edition. The show was so fun and well-crafted. I was lucky to also interview the director, music director, and six actors about the production. From cast to crew, every person talked with so much love for their craft; love you can see beaming through the production. 

Chicago is part of YTN’s teen conservatory. The process includes a ten-week acting, singing, and choreography intensive, followed by eight weeks of rehearsal, and two weeks of tech. YTN stands out for being an educational theatre, and the entire show is developed to educate the actors and staff. Director Cory Southwell has been teaching at YTN for fourteen years, learning a new role at the theater every year that has elevated his ability to make great theater. Teen actors have similar experiences. When Southwell and his team put together the two alternating casts, their goal was to challenge actors to grow their acting, dancing, and singing while building a successful show.Photo by Cory Southwell.

Fire comes naturally: the hunger, the ferocity, the need to prove oneself to a world that refuses to hand you the lead role. Water must be learned.

When we think of Bruce Lee, we often conceptualize soaring kicks and cracking nunchucks—spectacle, velocity, and force. Others recall his philosophical richness: the insistence on adaptability, on becoming “like water.” Young Dragon: A Bruce Lee Story carefully balances both perceptions—the fire of ambition and the water in transformation.

With 67 seasons under its belt, Edmonds Driftwood Players has earned a reputation as a reliable community theater in the Pacific Northwest. Their funny, well-performed production of The Outsider earns its applause.

As I sat down in the cozy seats of the Wade James Theatre, I was greeted by a surprise: a pre-show sponsor message styled as a political ad. That brief comedic gag set the tone perfectly. The Outsider is a show that knows it is a political satire first and a comedy second, and it delivers that understanding from the opening seconds.

Quick—name the best performance you have ever seen. What made it so memorable? Was it perfectly produced, endlessly rehearsed, or meticulously written? Or, maybe it was memorable because of its spontaneity? 

The most recent play I’ve watched fit the description of the latter—and I’d argue that it was one of the best performances I have seen. 

Some shows win you over slowly. Li at Seattle Public Theater is not one of those shows. This one has you hooked as soon as the protagonist emerges from the wings, looks you straight in the eye, and says, “Let me introduce myself.” That bold opening sets the tone for a production that uses humor and direct audience connection to explore what it means to feel unseen and how healing can take place in unexpected ways. In a venue as small and close as Seattle Public Theater, Li is able to comfortably break the fourth wall and speak to the audience again and again throughout the show in a natural extension of the space’s intimacy. Ultimately, that intimacy is the heart of the show: since Li speaks directly to us, the production turns the audience into an active part of her journey. As a result, this world premiere feels less like a debut, and more like a fully realized story that thrives on the intimacy of the space and the unfiltered way Li lets us into her world.

Even before the play begins, the environment truly sets the tone and primes you for the intimacy that the show thrives on. A buzzing crowd squeezes through a congested hallway just outside the performance space. Instead of feeling isolated from the story in your seat, simply sitting in the room allows everyone to become part of a shared energy, part of the same narrative they are watching unfold. That sense of communal presence becomes essential once Li, a thief from Inner Mongolia, introduces herself. Played enthusiastically by Adele Lim, Li is our narrator, and throughout the show, she continues to joke with us and confide her worries with us. Our laughter and shock become part of the rhythm of the play, creating a pure feedback loop of joy where the actors and the audience feed off of each other.

The lights dim and the story unfolds onto a grey void. Two figures walk out towards each other, meeting in the center. One of them, Marrick Smith, plays an eerily joyous tune on the accordion, and the other, Folami Williams, turns to confront the audience. Behind them, a series of photos flash over the grey screen: Germans in airy summer clothing, enjoying the beach, reveling in leisure activities, all while Williams continues throughout with her chipper narration describing life as a non-Jewish German to the audience.

In a sharp turn of events, the audience is presented with images of children wearing swastikas and hordes of people heiling Hitler, an extreme juxtaposition to the shallow but upbeat mood of the actors. Suddenly, a camera flashes, and the room goes dark. 

Have you ever felt transported back in time because of the detailed sets and convincing performances in a play? Directed by Sunam Ellis and starring Becca Q. Co and Seoyoung Park The Heart Sellers takes place in a mid-size city during Thanksgiving 1973. It follows the story of Luna (Co) and Jane (Park) in Luna’s apartment. Over the course of the show, the two become close as they bond over the struggles of being immigrants in an unfamiliar country after the passing of the Hart-Celler Act, a law passed in 1965 that changed U.S. immigration policy and allowed more immigrants from Asia, Africa, and Latin America to enter the country. Also, they discover similarities in each other’s lives as well as their longing to see their families in Korea and in the Philippines. Incorporating themes such as friendship, family, and courage, The Heart Sellers represents the transcending of cultural and linguistic barriers by creating marvelous set design, elaborate costumes, and showcasing fabulous performances by the leading actresses.

To begin with, the audience was transported into 1973 through Luna’s small apartment. Clothes were scattered across the floor and magazines piled in front of the retro 70s television. The outside of the apartment surrounded the central set, making it so the audience felt they had a snapshot into the setting’s inner workings. Throughout the show, the two women talked more about their lives and became friends. It provided the necessary space for the characters to develop and move through the plot. However, I felt my mind starting to drift due to the lack of set variety in each scene, causing me to miss pieces of dialogue or monologues.

It is rare to see the tremors from a passing memory fully reflected on someone's face. Rarer still to watch the memory play out in their mind. With a small but talented cast and a stage that lies amidst the audience in unique intimacy, Taproot Theater’s production of Till We Have Faces provides an opportunity to do both simultaneously.

This play is the premier adaptation of C.S. Lewis’s novel of the same name, which reimagines the myth of Psyche and Cupid. In the original myth, Psyche is sacrificed by her people and rescued by the god Cupid. She becomes his bride but is forbidden to see his face when he visits each night. Her sister, envious of Psyche, convinces Psyche to betray Cupid's trust by looking at him. This causes Psyche to be exiled, forced by Aphrodite to complete tasks in order to be reunited with Cupid. Written by Karen Lund and directed by Marianne Savell, the show not only captures the essence of Lewis’s story, which explores sisterhood, identity, and what it really means to love sacrificially, but also enriches it through visual metaphor and excellent acting. 

Warning: this review contains light spoilers.

Is a story about 9/11 still meaningful to people who weren’t alive when it happened?

No one wants to work for a sleazy boss and have to argue for equal pay, but if I ever do, I'd want the smart, funny women in 9 to 5 as my colleagues. The Village Theatre’s production of 9 to 5 is a comedic, women-led effort to take on workplace inequality. Well known as a film, the musical features a book by Patricia Resnick, with music and lyrics by renowned country singer Dolly Parton. Although the story was first written in 1980, it still resonates today.

Set in 1979, 9 to 5 follows three secretaries—Violet, Doralee, and Judy—as they sing and dance their way through revenge against their sexist, egotistical boss, challenging the cultural norms that limit their professional opportunities. Initially, their workplace life at Consolidated Industries is bleak. For women, there is no hope for a raise or promotion and no sense of camaraderie. But when Violet, Doralee, and Judy realize they have a common enemy in their boss, they unite to improve the workplace.