‘The Addams Family’ @ Bass Performance Hall (PAFW)

Show photos by Meredith Mashburn Photography & Sarah Smith, NWCC

—Rickey Wax

We enter the auditorium; on the stage, a giant spider crawls across a projected web. Fog seeps from beneath the curtain. An organ groans out low notes. And then, that familiar Addams Family theme bursts through the speakers. The audience snaps along together, and for a moment, it feels like we’re all in a trance—eerie and kind of fun at the same time.

The curtain rises on The Addams Family gathered in their ancestral cemetery. They’ve come to celebrate their yearly ritual of honoring the dead, surrounded by dancing ghosts and ancestors who never really left. The mood is morbid, funny, and full of charm. Rodrigo Aragon’s Gomez leads the ceremony with a grin that never quits, even when he’s backed into emotional corners. He’s passionate and full of energy, his voice warm and clear.

Across from him, Renée Kathleen Koher’s Morticia stands still and statuesque, her presence commanding even in silence. Her arms hover midair, as if she’s about to glide into a ballet pose. When she finally sings, her tone is smooth, giving Morticia the calm authority of someone who always knows how the story ends.

In the middle of the chaos, Uncle Fester (Timothy Hearl) steps forward to greet the audience directly. He acts as both guide and mischief-maker, explaining that love—strange, unpredictable love—is what drives the Addams family this time. Hearl plays Fester with bright-eyed enthusiasm, equal parts clown and poet. His connection with the audience is instant, and his narration gives the story a focus and a voice. The fourth wall practically vanishes.

We soon learn the problem. Wednesday Addams, played by Melody Munitz, has fallen in love. Worse, she’s chosen someone from a “normal” family: they’re from Ohio. The horror. Her boyfriend Lucas, played by David Eldridge, is polite and nervous, doing his best to fit into this gothic world. Munitz gives Wednesday both sharp humor and sincerity. Her performance is far sunnier than her Netflix counterpart’s, and her song “Pulled” captures her mix of frustration and giddy affection.

Wednesday confides in her father but swears him to secrecy, placing Gomez in the dangerous position of lying to Morticia. Aragon’s physical comedy shines here—his guilt is visible in every movement. Director Antoinette Dipietropolo smartly places him between Morticia and Wednesday as he sings “Trapped,” underlining the tug-of-war between loyalty and love. Koher’s Morticia grows increasingly suspicious. She never has to raise her voice; a single glance is enough to drop the room’s temperature.

And then there’s Grandma, played by Shereen Hickman, who turns every scene into a wild card. She volunteers at the retirement center—but not for the reasons you might expect. Hickman’s sharp timing and sly humor make Grandma feel both unpredictable and oddly grounded.

The first act builds to the dinner scene, where the Addamses host Lucas’s parents, Mal and Alice. Tucker Boyes’s Mal is stiff and uptight, while Allie Tamburello’s Alice arrives all smiles and rhymes, hiding her loneliness behind relentless cheer. Their contrast to the Addamses fuels the comedy. When Alice finally unravels during her number “Waiting,” Tamburello throws herself—literally—across the dinner table with unfiltered honesty.

Throughout the evening, the script (book by Marshall Brickman and Rick Elise, music & lyrics by Andrew Lippa) slips in a few quick jokes about the current political and economic state of America—nothing heavy-handed, just sly nods to rising prices, polarized families, and the chaos of the “new normal.” It’s smartly done, making the show feel both timeless and timely. (Leave it to the Addams family to find humor in late capitalism.)

What follows is a whirlwind of secrets and small disasters. Pugsley (Logan Clinger) tries to sabotage his sister’s romance by poisoning the dinner wine. Grandma “helps.” Fester serenades the moon in a gentle, touching moment that earns genuine applause. And poor Pugsley just wants his sister—to torture him again. By the end, everything unravels beautifully—but I’ll stop there. Some secrets are better left in the dark of the theater.

Dipietropolo’s direction keeps the pacing brisk, which is essential for a comedy. Randel Wright’s set turns Bass Performance Hall into a gothic mansion full of hidden doors and shifting set pieces. The ever-present ancestors even double as furniture movers, a clever visual touch. Tristan Raines’s costumes are detailed without distracting, and Charles Ford’s lighting glides seamlessly from moonlit to warm, matching the story’s shifts in tone.

This production of The Addams Family—presented by Performing Arts Fort Worth, and just in time for Halloween—is clever, well-paced, and full of heart; the cast’s chemistry makes even the strangest moments feel human. The touring company (Big League Productions) delivers a spirited show that reminds us that the Addamses—like the rest of us—are just trying to keep it together in a world that’s a little bit frightening.

WHEN: October 24-26, 2025
WHERE: Bass Performance Hall, 525 Commerce St, Fort Worth
WEB: www.basshall.com