‘Ride the Cyclone’ @ Stage West (w/ Theatre TCU)
Graphic design by Jen Schultes
—Jan Farrington
About halfway through Stage West’s season-opening Ride the Cyclone, one of the teen characters says quietly: “It gets weird now.”
Uh huh.
The line gets a big laugh—because Cyclone’s streak of “weird” has been front and center from the very first moments. Tell us something we don’t know….
In this absurd and charming, sad and funny musical about a group of small-town teens on a field trip—who die (!) in a roller-coaster crack-up at an amusement park—Stage West combines forces with Theatre TCU to give us a show that’s alive with the high energy and performatively wounded spirits of teenagers—especially on display in this, er, extremely strange situation. Director Garret Storms knows what he’s going for, and gets it: max momentum and offbeat comedy, along with surprisingly deep insights into these young lives.
The young actors make their characters vital and real: Ocean, the A++ achiever girl (Faith Lee); Charlotte, her shy sidekick (Kyla Jo Mendez), tired of having “nice” written in her yearbook; Mischa (Wesley Adams), a brash guy who raps about his girl (imaginary?) and his dreams (of wealth); Noel (Brandon Mora), a poetic sort with a lounge-singer streak; Ricky (Nick Lama-Riva), who looks like a Rubik’s cube nerd…though his fantasies say otherwise. And then there’s Jane (Reese Buchert), as in “Jane Doe,” the girl who died with them—who none of them can remember. She looks dazed and moves like a mechanical doll, her spiral curls jerking with every step. (Jane’s movement choreography, and Buchert’s commitment to it, were wonderful to behold.)
The last player is the only adult in the room, carnival automaton “The Amazing Karnak”—played with sharp eyes (and a perpetually ironic delivery) by veteran actor Brian Mathis, whose precision robotic moves are fascinating. Like the Wonderful Wizard in Oz, Karnak has a lot to say to the dear departed teens. He tells their fortunes, lays down the ground rules (surprise, one of you can “win the Grand Prize”—and come back to life!), and let’s them know they need to get a wiggle on: his electrical cord is being chewed through (slowly) by his arch-enemy Virgil (one of a gaggle of glam, people-sized rats forming a chorus onstage). In an hour or so, both Karnak and Virgil might go up in a flash-bang of electricity.
An excellent live band, led by music director Aimee Hurst Bozarth, accompanies the teens as each takes their moment to sing out about who they are. (Good voices are plentiful in the cast of TCU theatre “kids”—and some are stellar.) Sound designer Jason Jordan has created an active, engaging soundscape for the show as well—exciting stuff, though my one note would be that volume can be dialed down without losing impact. As it stands now, it overtakes both dialogue and song lyrics at too many moments.
Choreographer Gabriela Ayala Yarbrough pulls lively dancing from everyone onstage (in various styles), and we can’t stop looking (and looking again) at all the wonderful things crowded into Ian Loveall’s set design: hanging carousel ponies, gorgeous “illustrated” stage curtains, a Hello Kitty cupcake, a curved, rusted piece of roller-coaster track—all of it set off by Leann Burns’ lights: bright whooshes that follow the track, flickering carnival signs, deep shadows. Henry Cawood’s clever costumes range from the teens’ simple school uniforms to blingy giant rats and cats—not to mention Karnak’s magnificent get-up.
Created by the Canadian musical team of Jacob Richmond and Brooke Maxwell, the story is set in the tiny community of Uranium City, Saskatchewan—way, way up north. No surprise, then, that “my life sucks” is a recurring theme for the teens, and also “what I’ll do if I can only get out of here.” Each character’s song spot is different and enjoyable—and we get around, eventually, to the “lesson” of the show, and to some surprising choices made in the wake of a new, different, wider, more empathetic view of what LIFE can be, however short or long.
I won’t tell you more than that—just, perhaps, that Constance made my eyes go misty, that Ocean’s final “say” is entirely brilliant…and that I wound up touched, grinning, and quite pleased to have taken a ride on the Cyclone.
WHEN: October 16-November 2, 2025
WHERE: 821 West Vickery Blvd., Fort Worth
WEB: stagewest.org
