Review | ‘Spelling Bee’ returns and nails every word

How do you spell joy? For New York theatergoers this fall, it’s “S-P-E-L-L-I-N-G B-E-E.”

You could make a credible case that “The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee” was the best-written musical of the 21st century until “Hamilton”—and watching its buoyant 20th-anniversary Off-Broadway revival, you might find yourself believing it. Few musicals from the era are as airtight, inventive, or downright lovable. William Finn’s vibrant, emotionally tuned score and Rachel Sheinkin’s Tony-winning, slyly compassionate book remain a model of musical-theater integration.

For the uninitiated, “Spelling Bee” unfolds as an actual elementary school spelling bee—complete with an onstage word pronouncer, escalating vocabulary, and a handful of audience volunteers who join the competition. As six quirky young contestants spell their way toward the trophy, the musical gradually opens up their anxieties, home lives, rivalries, and aspirations. It’s both a satire of academic pressure and a tender coming-of-age story, structured as one continuous, intermission-less event in real time. Much like “A Chorus Line,” once the bee starts, it never stops—and the emotional stakes deepen even as the jokes fly faster.

The revival, which arrives in the wake of Finn’s recent passing, feels like an unexpected but deeply welcome reunion with an old friend. In my experience—having seen the musical Off-Broadway, on Broadway, in regional theaters, and at schools—“Spelling Bee” tends to hold up under almost any conditions. But the show thrives when performed in a compact proscenium space like New World Stages. The intimacy sharpens the jokes, heightens the pathos, and restores the electricity that sometimes dissipated in the wider, in-the-round staging at Circle in the Square during its Broadway run.

Back in 2005, the kids of “Spelling Bee” lamented that “life is random and unfair” and “life is pandemonium.” Two decades later, the lyric hits with startling new weight. Today’s adolescents navigate the lagging shadows of a pandemic, the omnipresence of social media, the existential fog of AI, impending climate doom, and a political climate that would rattle even William Barfée’s magic foot. The show always understood that childhood isn’t cute—it’s treacherous. This production simply meets the moment more directly while preserving the joyfulness, heart, and full-throttle silliness that made the original so irresistible.

Director-choreographer Danny Mefford doesn’t attempt a radical reinterpretation, nor does he need to. The material is bulletproof. But he infuses the evening with a welcome sense of kinetic play, giving each scene and musical number a brisk, physical charge. “Magic Foot” remains a guaranteed showstopper, and the decision to run without an intermission—keeping the show at a tight 1 hour and 45 minutes—maintains the breathless pacing that makes the bee feel like a single, unbroken event.

The ensemble approaches the characters with fresh instincts rather than nostalgic mimicry. Kevin McHale (Artie on “Glee”) gives William Barfée a moody, snooty confidence and a diva-sized belt. Justin Cooley (so memorable in “Kimberly Akimbo”) offers a blissfully chilled-out Leaf Coneybear, so relaxed he seems permanently mid-microdose.

Jasmine Amy Rogers, who recently stole the spotlight as the title character in “Boop! The Musical,” makes a near-total 180 as Olive Ostrovsky. Her Olive is tremulous, frightened, and heartbreakingly open—a performance so vulnerable it nearly re-centers the musical around her. Autumn Best’s Logainne is bright and manic, frayed from political and parental pressure, while Leana Rae Concepcion’s Marcy also arrives in crisis mode, a model student cracking under the weight of expectation.

Philippe Arroyo brings a puffed-up swagger to Chip Tolentino, whose downfall remains one of the show’s most reliable comic detonations. Jason Kravits, as the sardonic Vice Principal Panch, proves that a perfectly delivered definition can be as funny as any punchline.

And then there’s Lilli Cooper, delivering one of her most assured performances as Rona Lisa Peretti. Cooper gives Rona the poise of a pageant host, the warmth of a beloved teacher, and the gravitas of a narrator who understands she’s shepherding us through a formative ritual. She grounds the evening with confidence and a touch of glamour. Vocally, the cast is uniformly sharp, and the sound design allows Finn’s harmonies—and his jokes—to land with crisp clarity.

The one character who has been consciously reconceived is Mitch Mahoney, traditionally a “comfort counselor” doing court-ordered community service. In a smart, culturally sensitive update, Matt Manuel plays him not as a former convict but as a personal trainer whose gym went under—still brusque, still deadpan, but without the baggage of stereotype.

Because audience participation remains core to “Spelling Bee,” the performers lean liberally into spontaneous riffs, calling out everything from the government shutdown to Mayor Mandami, Pelosi’s retirement, AOC, microdosing, pronoun debates, and even the fact that the spelling bee is happening next door to a production of “Heathers.” My audience was particularly game—screaming support for the volunteer contestants and erupting into mid-scene ovations that turned the evening into a communal pep rally. When a crowd is this alive and responsive, the show’s humor and heart land twice as effectively.

This revival premiered last year at the Kennedy Center, before the Trump Administration’s takeover of that institution shuttered the very musical theater series from which this production originated. With “Schmigadoon” (also produced by the Kennedy Center) now Broadway-bound, one can’t help wondering what else might have emerged from that program in a different political landscape.

New World Stages, 340 W 50th Street, spellingbeenyc.com. Through April 12.