Let me just say it: I didn’t know whether I was watching a musical or a court-mandated group therapy session for the chronically performative. “Luigi: The Musical” is what happens when a sociology major on a caffeine bender decides to rewrite Chicago but with more TED Talk energy and fewer jazz hands.
This thing is based on a true story—three high-profile inmates stuck in the same federal detention center in Brooklyn. Sounds like the setup for a bad bar joke, right? A disgraced tech bro, a washed-up celebrity, and a rogue plastic surgeon walk into a holding cell… only the punchline is a 90-minute musical performed mostly in minor keys and moral superiority.
The show opens with “Paging Dr. Doom,” a catchy little number sung by a latex-clad ensemble representing the American healthcare system. Nothing gets a crowd going like tap-dancing insurance claims adjusters. I haven’t seen a more accurate musical portrayal of malpractice since Grey’s Anatomy season 12.
Then we meet the Hollywood archetype, whose song “Cancel Me Softly With His Tweets” features a backup chorus of angry Twitter eggs in feather boas. It’s like watching a BuzzFeed article come to life—equal parts self-pity and smugness, wrapped in ironic jazz hands.
And then there’s the tech guy—Luigi himself—who enters dramatically in a hoodie and sings “Disrupt Me Daddy,” a love ballad to the free market and deeply rooted sociopathy. He moonwalks across a sea of shredded NDAs while glitchy TikTok filters project behind him. I assume this is what Elon Musk sees when he sleeps.
Now, the creators say the show “interrogates violence.” Which is code for: we’re gonna beat you over the head with a foam bat of symbolism while earnestly asking if you’ve ever really thought about how messed up society is. Spoiler: we have. But unlike the cast of “Luigi,” most of us didn’t need a spot in the New York Queer Comedy Festival Finals to realize institutions are corrupt.
Nova Bradford, the director and co-creator, says the show “uses comedy to bring deeper questions to the surface.” Translation: they wrote a bunch of jokes in a bar, realized no one laughed, then added interpretive dance and called it commentary.
By Act Two, you’re not sure if you’re in a theater or a graduate seminar taught by someone who’s really into Adderall and Naomi Klein. There’s even a monologue from a sentient EpiPen about “pharmaceutical complicity in modern alienation.” And just when you think it can’t get weirder—Rep. Hank Johnson’s actual music starts playing. Yes, that Hank Johnson. The guy who once worried Guam might tip over is now contributing to Broadway-adjacent satire. I weep for Sondheim.
There’s a finale, of course: “We All Serve Time (In Systems).” Picture a prison choir in tie-dye robes harmonizing about societal collapse while confetti made from shredded CVS receipts rains from the ceiling. The audience rose to its feet, not because it was good, but because the actors blocked the exits and we all feared a Q&A.
To be fair, there were moments of genius. Like the puppet version of Jeff Bezos yelling “I’m the algorithm now!” while being waterboarded with LaCroix. Or the scene where the prison psychiatrist sings “Gaslight, Gatekeep, GoFundMe,” which I’m pretty sure is now my ringtone.
Ultimately, “Luigi: The Musical” doesn’t glorify violence—it commodifies guilt. It wraps satire in sequins, packages it with moral outrage, and sells it to an audience desperate to prove they’re in on the joke. And yet, somehow, it works. It’s selling out faster than a Bernie Sanders endorsement post-2020.
But hey, it’s summer in San Francisco. The fog is thick, the Birkenstocks are back, and apparently, nothing says “fun night out” like a choreographed indictment of American decay.
Final verdict?
7/10 – Too much interpretive screaming, not enough Luigi. But bonus points for the paper-mâché Zuckerberg who explodes into Monopoly money during the curtain call.
Can’t wait for the next production from this crew: “Soros: The Tap-Dancing Puppetmaster” or “Hunter: The Laptop Opera.”
Ian Schwartz is an unofficial theater critic for everything ridiculous, and is still waiting for someone to write a musical about the guy who invented Lunchables.
Ian Schwartz is a contributor to Direct Line News. Contact Ian at Ian.Schwartz@mcgopclub.com
Direct Line News is a Maryland-based free-access publication committed to the Republican reform tradition.
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