REVIEW: WILD CHILD The Musical—Laguna Playhouse
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Unplugging the American Adolescent: The Friction of Connection in Laguna Playhouse’s World Premiere of WILD CHILD
LAGUNA BEACH—SEPTEMBER 12
The American theater has long wrestled with how to accurately depict the digital age without falling into trite caricature or tech-phobic moralizing.
In launching their 2026–2027 season, the Laguna Playhouse tackles this exact modern dilemma head-on with the world premiere of WILD CHILD.
Directed by John Simpkins (NYC: “The Jonathan Larsen Project;” “Bloodsong of Love”) and conceived by The Breathe Project, this contemporary, pop-rock vehicle aims to dismantle the armor of the "chronically online" teenager, trading the sterile glow of smartphone screens for the unpredictable, raw elements of a remote wilderness therapy program in Northern Utah.
At its core, WILD CHILD is a dual character study tracking the forced convergence of the troubled and fiercely gifted Rina (Salima Gangani) and her chronically anxious, online counterpart, Darin (Davide Costa), two profoundly isolated adolescents who have replaced genuine human intimacy with curated digital personas. Having initially crossed paths only as anonymous, pixelated avatars within a video game, their artificial reality is shattered when parental intervention strips them of Wi-Fi and sentences them to "New Roots"—a wilderness therapy camp designed as an aggressive digital detox.
What makes Dan Marshall’s book compelling is its resistance to the easy, sentimental tropes of traditional adolescent dramas. In fact, Mr. Marshall avoids casting technology as a simple, cartoonish villain. Instead, the script carefully frames digital dependency as a symptom of a deeper, systemic loneliness and a profound deficit of belonging. When Rina and Darin are dragged into the wilderness, their withdrawal is treated not with comedic flippancy, but with a palpable, almost physical desperation.
However, the narrative text operates on a double-edged sword. While the author’s dialogue captures the rapid-fire, fragmented syntax of Gen-Z with striking authenticity, the book occasionally works overtime to balance sharp, side-splitting comedic relief with heavy, complex mental health realities. Accordingly, the transition between these two registers may feel somewhat jarring to the audience, leaving them to navigate sudden tonal whiplash as the show pivots from satirical observations about internet culture to earnest explorations of adolescent trauma.
Actually the true emotional engine of WILD CHILD is its propulsive, pop-driven score by award-winning composer Julianne Wick Davis. Ms. Davis, a recipient of both the Jonathan Larson and Billie Burke Ziegfeld Awards, seems to demonstrate a sophisticated understanding of how to translate psychological claustrophobia into musical theater architecture.
Musically Directed by Noah Landis along with Associate Music Director Ryan O’Connell, the entire score becomes a sonic landscape that is brilliant in its progression. The opening sequences are characterized by frantic, rhythmically complex, and heavily synthesized power-pop numbers ("Intervention;" "Any Questions"), while, to great effect, the music mirrors the overwhelming sensory overload of an infinite scroll, trapping the characters in dense, overlapping vocal lines that simulate an online echo chamber.
As the wilderness begins to strip away the characters' defenses, Ms. Davis systematically strips away the synthesized instrumentation. In due course, the score organically breathes into a more grounded, acoustic, and roots-inspired palette ("Trail Song 1/2"; "Letters#1"). The emotional high-water marks of the production in the form of quiet, raw ballads, mostly abandoning those high-octane pop pyrotechnics in favor of more delicate, exposed melodies that showcase the cast's vocal vulnerability.
And, in those quieter moments, Mr. Marshall’s lyrics (yes, he wrote the lyrics too) shine brightest. When the characters drop their hyper-verbal online armor, the lyrics become piercingly simple ("Always There;" "Human Nature"), capturing the terrifying awkwardness of a teenager trying to articulate a genuine feeling face-to-face for the very first time.
Through it all, Director Simpkins treats the stage not as a static picture box, but as a dynamic, evolving ecosystem. He masterfully manages the tension between the fast-paced ensemble numbers and the hyper-focused, intimate scenes between Rina and Darin.
The cast's performances are anchored by a raw, unvarnished emotional depth. The actors transitioning from defensive, hyper-cautious digital addicts into vulnerable individuals seeking actual connection is entirely convincing. Rather than serving as mere background filler, the ensemble functions almost like a modern Greek chorus, physically and vocally manifesting the digital noise that haunts the protagonists' minds.
The vocal versatility across the entire company is exceptionally strong, handling Ms. Davis’s demanding, high-register pop belts and intricate harmonies with apparent ease and precise intonation. The ten-member ensemble—featuring Amanda Angeles (Lynds), Davide Costa, Gabby Dahlen (Phoenix), Chad Doreck (Collins), Matthew Fedorek (Fitz), Salima Gangani, Jennifer Noble (Whitney), Yana Perrault (as Roses, a manifestation of the music in the teenagers’ digital universe), Brian Whitehill (as Kiton, reflecting the fictional avatar-driven identity the teens immerse themselves in as an escape) and Jacob Zelonky (Tom)—operates as a remarkably cohesive unit, with Tim Frangos, Lielle Kaidar, Grace Sardar and Clayton Michael Walker as understudies.
Mounting a show that transitions from an abstract digital space to the expansive topography of Northern Utah presents quite a logistical challenge, and here Scenic Designer, Michael Schweikardt (“The Jonathan Larson Project;” Frank McGuinness’ “Gates of Gold”) avoids the trap of literalism with a high degree of success. Rather than trying to erect a fake forest on the Laguna stage, the scenic design utilizes a more evocative, minimalist playing space that allows the wilderness to exist primarily in the imagination of the characters and the audience.
Adding to that charm is Lighting and Projections’ Nathan Scheuer and Cat Wilson, collaborative co-designers who are, in essence, the heavy lifters of the visual transformation, using a variety of harsh, cold, neon-blue video and still projections that flood the stage, subtly suggesting the great outdoors with warm, organic earth tones and expansive, starlit cycloramas.
Sound Designer Eric Backus weaves an intricate acoustic tapestry, blending the sharp, artificial pings and chimes of notifications with the ambient, immersive sounds of the natural world—a sonic reminder of the healing power of nature that the show champions.
As a world premiere, WILD CHILD is an undeniably compelling, vital piece of regional theater programming that addresses a profound generational crisis. Its strengths lie in its gorgeous, emotionally intelligent score, a trendy, youth-cultured manuscript that refuses to offer easy, pat answers to a complex cultural epidemic, and of course its fiercely committed ensemble.
Ultimately, Managing Director Adele Adkins' assertion that producing bold, original work like WILD CHILD is central to the Playhouse’s mission is validated here. It is a beautiful, uneven, and utterly engrossing piece of theater, serving as a powerful, melodic reminder of the shared resilience, hope, and messy humanity that no algorithm can ever truly replicate.
Previews for WILD CHILD began on Wednesday, September 9th, in advance of last night’s (September 12th) opening, and will run through October 4th. Tickets and performance schedule is available online at www.lagunaplayhouse.com, or in person at the Laguna Playhouse Theatre Box Office at 606 Laguna Canyon Road. Box Office Hours are Monday-Friday from 12 noon to 4:00 pm The box office also opens 2 hours before all showtimes.
CHRIS DANIELS
ARTS & ENTERTAINMENT REVIEWER
THE SHOW REPORT
PHOTO CREDIT: JOAN MARCUS
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