REVIEW: Little Miss Perfect (Olney Theatre Center)
English-speaking theatre has had an interesting relationship with the internet over the last two decades, as we hit a huge generational shift in how media is produced and discussed. Millennials were the last generation to really live on traditional TV, word-of-mouth, the radio, and having to get physical media as their primary source of things if not caught live. In 2006, third places still existed; the mall was a social mecca. The internet wasn’t advanced enough to even sustain streaming above 480p on YouTube (which had existed for a year). The juvenescence of it all created a siblinghood that has since been lost — Millennials grew up with the Internet. Comparatively, their replacement in the Age-Sex Pyramid twenty years later is Gen Z. By the time they/we (“Zillennial”, reporting in) came of age in the same way, streaming was now the de facto way to consume media, and physical third places were harder to come by: so they grew up on the Internet.
But it is only recently that this generation has been identified as the hot, marketable group, especially in theatre. Be More Chill, The Lightning Thief, Six, and to some degree, Dear Evan Hansen all had recent Broadway runs coasting on the health of feverish Zoomer fans and their congenital internet dependence. Even Beetlejuice, whose basis film came out when we were in diapers, seems to have a much healthier fanbase among the Youth™️ than the Millennials and Gen Xers that I’m sure upon whose nostalgia producers were initially banking.
TikTok has definitely had a role to play in proliferating this means of access, and that brings us to today. In 2019, Joriah Kwame submitted a song by the name of “Little Miss Perfect” to a songwriting contest created by Tony nominee Taylor Louderman. Her performance of it did numbers in theatre circles, and helped power a trend of internet-based musical songwriting that Gen Z embraced heavily in the subsequent Covid years. (I mean, what else was there to do?) Sometimes they took off and became something IRL, like that unofficial Bridgerton musical, or were one-off “concerts” like Ratatouille. But Olney Theatre Center —I was going to get to the point eventually!—has taken it to a considerable new level with a years-in-the-making world premiere of a full musical production based on that one song. Initially due to premiere last season before being replaced by Senior Class, it’s been a remarkable journey for Kwame.
Many of these kinds of musicals had built devoted fandoms and garnered undeniable social media clout. But virtual prestige doesn’t always match realty, as they commercially (and often critically) floundered. Little Miss Perfect aims to avoid these pitfalls and prove that a musical debut spring-boarding off of virality alone can work.
Book/Music
In many ways, Perfect hits a “task failed successfully” marker by feeling fresh while simultaneously tasting bland. Kwame, who wrote the book and the music, establishes the world from his song as a coming-of-age teen comedy. Meet Noelle, a straight-laced, straight-haired, straight-A, straight-girl high school senior in Michigan. She’s recently transferred to a “higher-class” (see: “white”) school, and as the only Black girl, there’s a natural form of other-ing that she seeks to escape. She particularly seeks to achieve heights the compare to her recently-deceased father, a famed Howard-educated academic, but is limited by her lack of “leadership” skills in applying for a scholarship. The solution? Run, and win, for class president.
But for now, it’s her and her pastor mother, who is doing everything she can to keep Noelle in Michigan to attend community college. Normally, I find issue with such brazen trope usage — Black characters without fathers, “I Gotta Get Out of This Small Town: The Musical”, overbearing religious parent—but Kwame appears to lean into these with an expected subversion. And to some degree, he does pull it off, as the book evolves to include less common ideas and devices. The first: enter Eli, a Black neurodivergent boy who’s also new to school, and quickly becomes a friend of Noelle’s. I had fear that a character on the spectrum like him could quickly become parody, as it often is in media with good intentions, but the role ends up being rather charming. In fact, Eli is a character that benefits from more stage time but doesn’t get enough (though I’m glad he gets a bubbly Act II number and a love interest). Secondly, and this is where Little Miss Perfect shows the most promise: the love arc. Noelle’s queerness bubbles underneath, and finally explodes upon the introduction of Malaya, an Uber-Butch Filipina exchange student. And lo, in an AO3-like plot twist, Malaya gets placed to live with Noelle and her mother. (As someone who has worked with exchange students in real life for more than 15 years, it made me wonder if anyone involved in this production has interacted with one outside of a classroom, because of several clear violations of State Department guidelines within this musical that border on sheer fantasy. That took me out of the immersion substantially, but I digress, and am not taking it too seriously; though if anyone needs me for exchange student dramaturgy, hit my line.)
Despite the forced matchmaking of the two, I ultimately admired their chemistry and the sapphic conflict that arises, even if it felt more 2006 than 2026. The two bond over writing and acceptance in their communities, and is a clear watermark for lesbian relationships on the stage. If only the conclusion weren’t so ham-fisted, as the antagonist — a Regina George-type blonde by the name of Gia—threatens to out them to the school as if it wasn’t true that almost 3/4ths of Gen Z support LGBTQ rights. Outing is a very real concern, and the conflict makes sense between some of the other characters, but not in a believably career-ruining way for our protagonist. The book ultimately provides an interesting mediation of stereotypes, acceptance, and breaking out of molds. The parts between groundbreaking queer romances and neurodivergent tales of success fall in the cracks of normalcy, however; not entirely terrible, but not very interesting either. Kwame’s use of tropes are mostly smart enough to avoid feeling lazy, and there’s a lot to enjoy seeing represented.
Sonically, the American Musical has been slowly shedding its “big band” identity since Rent. For the most part, this has been a welcome change; we couldn’t have had Spring Awakening, Next to Normal or Hamilton without these shakeups in tradition. But by the early/mid 2010s, a new genre had taken root as the “default”: the pop musical. And they generally do what they set out to do: they get popular. But they do so at the consequence of playing it too safely from both a narrative and musical perspective. Little Miss Perfect is not immune to this. Kwame spreads the same poppy flair from the viral title song (which serves as an excellent Act I closer) to occupy every song slot in the score, leaving the show impassioned but generic. I can’t really recall any songs besides the title number, but I do recall some particularly corny (non-derogatory) individual lines, such as “we’re gonna turn you from a Straight-A Goodie to a Gen Z Baddie”.
Is Little Miss Perfect ready for primetime? I don’t think so; but with tighter songwriting to match its virality without copy-pasting, a more-perfect future awaits. 5/10
Acting
Ever since the incredible Private Jones hit DC two years (???????) ago, the region —or maybe just me—has yearned for more Leanne Antonio appearances. We got a taste at last season’s A Wrinkle In Time, but she finally gets a local leading role in Perfect, and now a whole lot more people get to experience the joy. Her voice is wonderfully powerful and the subtle shedding of the stiff exterior makes her the gooey, warm center of this sugar rush of a musical. Her rapport works brilliantly alongside the zippy Donovan Fowler (Eli) and Madelynn Elizatbeth Ayen (Malaya). Fowler never makes a facsimile of his on-the-spectrum character; instead providing an earnest boy who learns how not to feel sorry for himself, and Ayen is both hilariously blunt and vulnerable at the right spots, even though I disagree with how her role is sent off. 7/10
Production
The production values of this premiere are strangely polished yet unexciting at the same time. The staging takes place in what appears to be an Apple Store sans any furniture, with bare, white rounded walls that only exist to absorb the youthful lighting from Abigail Hoke-Brady and the occasional projection from Zavier Augustus Lee Taylor. The few props that exist effectively set the scenes, but don’t serve any greater purpose, nor are there any visual bonuses to look out for. Thus, the direction this show takes emphasizes the music many are only there for, exemplified by the hidden orchestra within the set. For a show with so many potential fantastical elements, they feel under-developed in such a cavernous theatre famed for its production value. 2/10
Viz
The inherent sarcasm in the title is a good vibe-check off the bat. The key art includes a lot of jovial cool colors, such ones that evoke royalty in their purples and indigoes. The scrim is quite generic, however: a giant “LMP” (anyone’s guess what it could stand for, wrong answers only) floating in a glowing rounded rectangle. It’s visually striking, but doesn’t say much. The key art is its most congruent element, with a cross-armed Noelle against a social media-themed composition notebook page. This knocks out several of the show’s main elements pretty quickly: high school, a character unsatisfied with life, and the relevance of its social media genesis. 7/10
Verdict
Little Miss Perfect is another world premiere from Olney that’s energized by its younger audience, but too frequently remains stuck in a generic pop musical bubble, even when it has good concepts to explore. 23/40
