You’ve already won me over, in spite of me, and don’t be alarmed if I fall, head over feet. The album I played so many times in middle school I scratched the CD and had to ask for it for Christmas. Twice. ANd then it became a stage musical. And now it’s making its area debut at Scottfield Theatre Company in Havre de Grace. And isn’t it ironic– don’t you think? It’s a ferocious piece of theatre that is evocative and visceral and way too relevant for the world we live in; it’s iconic, ironic, and everything you could hope for from such an intense musical album turned stage show. Arguably the best production STC has ever produced, Jagged Little Pill is ready to shake you and wake you up. Directed and choreographed by Becky Titelman, with Musical Direction by Ann Prizzi this show is a hard slap in the face but a much needed one to the world at large and the cast is nailing it. 

It’s minimalist scenery (designed by director Becky Titelman) but it services the show extraordinarily well. The working pride of this show’s set design is the fact that everything is on wheels and gets slid in and out with ease (there are a few transitions where they linger a moment or two longer than they should but with time that will tighten and Ann Prizzi’s live pit is covering those moments sublimely, almost to the point where you don’t notice if a black-out or inter-scene shift is lasting just a second or two too long.) Titelman’s masterpiece is her multi-purposing of the benches. As church pews, as train seats, as park benches– they’re on casters and they generate the illusion of being a turntable (with the labors of the cast employed to said effect) and it’s really impressive. This is particularly true for “Head Over Feet” when Phoenix and Frankie get spun round and round and during “Wake Up.” There’s also some amazing roller-choreography (of both scenery and people) happening for “Ironic” with the school desks. Titelman makes exceptional use of having all the furniture on casters and really utilizes the play space well for this production.

Serving as the show’s choreographer (and costume coordinator and everything else previously mentioned) you get a lot of really beautiful intention from the dance routines that are infused throughout. There’s a lot of feminist fury being channeled into the moves, a lot of hallmarks of the 90’s (there’s even a nod to the Macarena in there) and you feel like you’ve been transported back to a different era of movement while simultaneously recognizing that this is present day. One of Titelman’s chief successes with the choreography in this show is her execution of “Smiling” and all of the ‘rewind’ choreography featured there; it feels deliberate, with clear intention and moves fluidly every backward-step of the way. There’s also an unabashed and unapologetic intensity infused into ‘Uninvited Dancer’ (though the more appropriate moniker for Erin Acerno’s character here is MJ’s Embodied Demon) and every time she moves in her sharp, staccato aggressions, you’re both haunted and captivated by those movements. Dance Captain Samantha Jednorski has similar movements when she appears as the ‘dancing spirit body double’ in one of the scenes. Titelman’s choreography matches the verve and prevailing overtones of the music and the narrative; it’s extremely impressive and intensely well executed. 

And her costumes fit the bill for the time-stamp inspo. You want that raging ‘angry-emo-goth-wannabe-girl’ feel of the 90’s, Titelman hits it on the head across the board in the show’s sartorial selections. And she makes bold choices throughout the performance to really drive home the message and the experience of Jagged Little Pill. If there’s a place for improvement (aside from the perpetual glitching mics that were static-clouded and blipping in and out on opening night) it’s in two or three moments where a visual mismatch of what’s on-stage weakens the message she’s attempting to put forward. At the end of the moment of confession with Bella, Jo, and Frankie– an ensemble of women wheel that sofa off (though you can see the elder male ensemble person in there) and it would have been such a powerful and evocative moment if you hadn’t seen the man among them. This happens frequently on and off when scenery is being moved and it somewhat disrupts this otherwise perfect aesthetic that Titelman has so carefully crafted. (It would have also served to have Gilbert as the interrogating officer for the silent-scene with Bella and stick Howard in the background ensemble there instead of the current configuration.) Little blips like that (and the mics) aside and it’s practically a perfect production. 

Having a live orchestra pit (led by Ann Prizzi on keys, featuring Graham Walker on guitar, Michael Kellam on bass, Mark Leppo on drums) is a godsend for this production. It drives home the raw, evocative pathos of the music, allows for glorious cover during those scenic transitions (and a hardcore shoutout to Stage Manager Malia Williamson for keeping things running as effortlessly as they appear to be running! The bedroom wall-pop reveal scene with Phoenix, Jo, and Frankie is clever and well-executed!) and it just enhances the overall production value. As the show’s musical director, Prizzi has done some sensational work with an extremely talented bunch of performers, really nailing harmonies, beautifully crafting blends and allowing for these actors to tell the story with unchecked emotional fervor while still maintaining musical integrity. 

It’s a powerhouse ensemble, packed with talent, many of whom get radiant moments to shine. Featuring Aaron Fletcher, Samantha Jednorski, James Gilbert, Sarah Paxton, Meg Smith, Erin Acerno, Jillian Connolly, Timmy Phelan, Selena Harricharan, Chloe Anderson, Bobby Mahoney, Catherine Wentsel, this ensemble cultivates the fulsome sound of numbers like “Wake Up”, “Forgiven”, and the three-way-tie-race-to-the-end “No”, “Thank U”, and “You Learn.” You get some really extraordinary moments from so many of them– like the simple, but desperately necessary, levity provided by Bobby Mahoney as a priest, who for just one moment, while spinning the park bench with Frankie and Phoenix atop it has a hilarious response to a particular lyric. It’s such a small gesture and yet so noteworthy because of the laughs it provides in an otherwise pretty heavy musical. You get Samantha Jednorski who is channeling her best Jersey-Shore-Housewife as Jill and it’s the epitome of annoying, as is her too-perky Dr. Gardner-therapist character. Jednorski really shines in a lot of the dance routines, however, where you can see her vibing energy to everything and everyone around her; it’s amazing.

Erin Acerno will become the stuff of your nightmares in watching her exist as the physicalized ‘demon’ of Mary Jane’s struggles. The deadpan eyes, the soulless, unwaveringly intense stare– if you crossed her in a dark alley at night not only would she steal your soul and eat it, but she’d regurgitate it, snort it, and walk away calm, composed, and ready to strike the next unwitting victim. She had unnerving control over the stillness of her physicality, making her ‘reliving it’ dance during “Predator” so very difficult to swallow; it’s discomforting, unsettling, unnerving, and really shakes you up (it’s meant to; she’s succeeding superbly in this role) and when she slinks up over the couch like Samara from The Ring during “Uninvited” you’ll get a rigid chill that shoots up your spine and you won’t be able to shake; the dance-fight between Acerno and Liz Marion’s Mary Jane in that scene is really enough to turn the stomach and will hit hard for anyone who has ever battled with their own inner demons; it’s a tragically beautiful moment. 

You get harrowing sounds, almost like broken wind howling at the injustices of the world from Sarah Paxton offstage every time recollection of trauma gets brought into play. Her voice is glorious, eerie and savage in a way that unseats the soul from its comfortable resting place. And you get equally unsettled by the behaviors of Aaron Fletcher, playing Andrew; the seediness, the revolting feelings he generates by playing that character to the letter during “Predator” is enough to make your skin crawl. The upright bed-staging in that number with both Bella and Mary Jane will really do a number on you as well; fair warning, this show is triggering. 

The heartache and heartbreak and soul-destroying pathos is pushed right down the audience’s throats with Anna Jones’ portrayal of Bella; the emotional fortitude she brings to that character is extraordinary in truly indescribable ways. That scene between Jones’ Bella and Marions’ Mary Jane is soul-destroying in a way that just cracks you wide open and truly wrecks you. She has a stunning voice that’s emotionally captivating and wholly engrossing for her solo in “Predator” and the way that number is staged is a metaphysical gut-punch that the audience just isn’t prepared for (even if you’ve seen the show before.) Jones’ character has some of the show’s most heavy and difficult to process dialogue, seated on that couch with Jo and Frankie and she delivers it with such authenticity that it hurts your heart to hear it. 

As a refreshing burst of sunshine in a sea of emotional turmoil, Callum Howard plays the role of Phoenix with a welcomed vigor that almost makes his character’s baggage feel ordinary, particularly by comparison to everyone else’s issues in the libretto. There’s an undeniable enthusiasm that accompanies Howard’s performance, particularly during the meet-cute with Frankie Healy (Isabel Bray) and he and Bray have extraordinarily earnest chemistry that just sizzles and tingles like the freshly poured bubbles of a brand new bottle of champagne. There’s an initial rage-spark that ignites his character to life early in “Ironic” but there’s also a gentleness– two flames burning bright blue and bright red inside, making for this compassionate mellow purple character that’s fascinating and loaded with stellar vocal capabilities. Callum delivers vocal amazements for “Head Over Feet” as well and makes you feel for his character, despite Phoenix’ issues being the ‘least’ of those included in the show.

U Oughta Know that Molly McVicker ATE. As Jo, hands down, she wins GOAT. McVicker could be some sort of musical enchantress, who has traveled back in time, captured the vocal essence of Alanis Morissette (like Ursula in The Little Mermaid) and is pouring it out wholeheartedly into every song she sings. You hear it first during “Hand in My Pocket” and while the sound is purely Alanis, the attitude, the intention, body language, and overall character direction is authentically McVicker. She fiercely catapults her way through this number, delivers a flawless acapella rendition of “Your House” (in that ultra-disturbing way that it sounds as the buried-bonus track on the OG-CD) and you’re all but on your feet on fire by the time you know that its her character who gets “You Oughta Know.” Ready to vocally eviscerate the number, McVicker obliterates the hell out of it and every rager moment as a woman that you’ve ever felt comes screaming through loud and clear in that moment; she’s an unstoppable force in this character role and has great command of her acting skills as well.

The picture-perfect postcard family– The Healys. Mary Jane (Liz Marion) the stellar mother-of-the-year, and Frankie (Isabel Bray) rebel-with-a-total-cause daughter, Steve (Andy Wentsel) the works-too-much-absent father, and Nick (Grayson Mallon) the prodigal son. This quartet of really screwed up humans makes for one hell of a powerful story. Wentsel’s Andy is the ‘most basic’ of the bunch (thanks to Diablo Cody’s libretto; not at all a comment on Wentsel’s capability to dynamically transform this character.) With a well-toned, solid singing voice, he provides beautiful vocal service to “So Unsexy” and “Mary Jane”, his two feature numbers. The volatile exchanges between his character and Marion’s Mary Jane, first on the phone and then during counseling, are increasingly edgy and Wentsel holds his own in those moments superbly. He has a keen understanding of comic timing and sincerity in those more morose moments. 

As the ‘perfect son’, Grayson Mallon’s Nick is one of those characters that you just want to wrap in a hug. His rendition of “Perfect” starts off with this haunted sound that takes a hairpin left with those expressive vocal opt-ups as he pours his confused little soul into the number. There is a frenetic internalization of nervousness that slowly edges its way to the surface of Mallon’s physicality and facial expressions; it’s a really striking example of character growth that he physically manifests with great and specific intention. Mallon is gifted with vocal fire that just burns all through that number and ignites until it explodes from that moment through to the conclusion of the performance. 

Frankie (Isabel Bray) and Mary Jane (Liz Marion) are the two powerhouse heroines of the production. This performance in particular is packed with astonishing performers who are all delivering extraordinary songs and moments and movements, but these leading ladies are fierce, fabulous, fantastical and full of fury. And they aren’t afraid to melt the audience with their vocal prowess or blast their emotional traumas (in their respective fashions) from here to the harbor and back. The mother-daughter dynamic shared by Bray and Marion is mercurial and deeply dysfunctional and yet so disturbingly beautiful; they captivate your attention both together and in their own solo dynamic from start to finish.

As Frankie, Bray gives you this sense of sass right from jump-street but it goes exponentially deeper than that as the play progresses. There is pure rocker rage funneling through Bray when she launches into “All I Really Want” (with a really cool circle of ensemble dancers pulsating on the floor in cat-cow as she rocker-blasts her heart out!) Bray’s versatility is extraordinary; there is a timid and shy sincerity that overtakes her when she starts to sing “Ironic” but very quickly she switches tack and the powerhouse belt-your-face-off-ferocity returns. As previously mentioned, the chemistry between both Bray and Howard and Bray and McVicker is delightfully authentic, different for each respective character, but wholly real. While the ensemble strikes vogue-inspired poses on the train, Bray delivers one hell of a rendition of “Unprodigal Daughter” and again lets her fiery spirit soar in this number. Bray has command of her character, command of her songs, and command of that stage; she is a force, a fantastical and ferocious force to be reckoned with. 

In what is arguably her most successful stage achievement to date, Liz Marion’s unapologetically unhinged approach to Mary Jane is exactly what the doctor ordered, whether visiting hours are nine-to-five or not. There’s this jumble of personalities caught up inside Marion’s Mary Jane and they all leak out, trickling and exploding, in various moments and it’s a glorious, extraordinary, beautiful disaster. Marion embodies the epitome of an imperfect, fully unwound human being and it’s sublime. Vocally she’s belting, crying, screaming, emoting, and delivering from start to finish, it’s an indefatigable energy (and wholly draining just to watch!) The deep emotional resonance that she brings to every scene– whether it’s veneer-cracking when she’s facing off with Steve in the therapy session, trying to call Nick to heel, or that evocative exchange between her and Bella, Marion is giving you all the feels in such dynamic highs and lows that you’re getting vertigo just trying to keep up with her. The anguish, the agony, the repressed trauma, it’s all insanely intense being delivers in Marion’s capable hands. But the real soul-stabbing moment is the whole of “Forgiven”, seconded only by what she brings out in “Uninvited” the physicality and vocal demon-exorcism-dance in which she partakes in that number is brutal and intense and all those engaging things all at once. 

It’s a triggering show and so very important, with so many perfect moments, components, and performances; it’s a springtime must-see. It’s an unexpected cathartic release that just allows us to address the issues that no one wants to talk about, gives us the community of theatre folk permission to see them, feel them, acknowledge them, and express our righteously justified anger that these things are still happening every single day in the world where we live. Jagged Little Pill is the production of Scottfield’s canon to this point in its existence; wholly impressive across the board.

Running Time: Approximately 2 hours and 40 minutes with one intermission

Jagged Little Pill plays through April 26 th 2026 with Scottfield Theatre Company currently in residence at the Cultural Center at The Havre de Grace Opera House— 121 N. Union Street in historic downtown Havre de Grace, MD. For tickets call the box office at 667-225-8433 or purchase them online.