Should you go? Yes.
Based on the amazing vocal work of the ensemble cast alone, I can heartily recommend Endometriosis: The Musical, currently running at Theater in the Round Players (TRP). It is also hilariously (and often, depending on your comfort level, “inappropriately”) funny from start to finish, which is not something I was expecting in a play about a medical condition. Of course, I wasn’t really expecting a musical about a medical condition either, though that was right there in the title.
“They could even have a pop-up uterus that makes a sad trombone noise.”
Endometriosis: The Musical follows the misadventures of Jane (Abby Holmstrom) as she tries to climb the corporate ladder while also battling her own body once a month when debilitating and painful menstruation cycles impair her ability to do her job. The story is half a satire of office politics and half a satire of the medical community as Jane struggles to find her way through both worlds.
“Is the guy with the dancing poop going to be there?”
Creators Maria Bartholdi (book and lyrics) and Kristin Stowell (music and lyrics) have taken their 2022 hit show of the same name from its roots in the Minnesota Fringe Festival and expanded on it for this world premiere presentation. Director Shanan Custer (herself an icon of comedy writing and performance in this town) takes her instincts for what’s funny and guides the cast in their efforts to (quite successfully) dial the comedy and satire up to an 11, with the audience rarely getting a chance to breathe between laughs once they get rolling. Music director Jean Orbison Van Heel elicits stunning vocal performances from every member of the cast - the group numbers (and there are a lot of them) are chock full of gorgeous harmonies, even when they’re dissonant or in a minor key, and the duets and solos throughout are equally beautiful. Sometimes that musical beauty is in service of an emotional moment, sometimes in service of a belly laugh, and often you don’t know which it’s going to be until it lands on you. When this cast is singing, the show soars. Van Heel also leads the three-piece band on piano, with David Mercer-Taylor on bass and Caitlin Halmrast Lucic on drums, providing solid backup to the cast with musical accompaniment that never skips a beat.
“I have no idea why I was hiding in that plant.”
Jane works for the amusingly generic and unspecific Business, Incorporated. There she must impress her boss Mr. McKenna (Jack Strub), as the Business prepares for a Big Presentation, first to investors and later to the visiting President of the company (Aly O’Keeffe). Jane’s efforts often run afoul of the censure of her petty co-worker Gina (Nora Sonneborn), always threatening to report people to Human Resources (HR) for being inappropriate, even though she’s writing her own wildly inappropriate historical romance novel, and later bursts into song about her “Sexy OB-GYN” and all the many ways she desires him to examine her. Another office obstacle is often Derek (Jack Bonko), constantly currying favor with the boss, even though the boss can’t remember Derek’s name. Derek’s additional obsession with the boss’ sponge baths is… something.
“Lady Parts is an auto-body shop run by two lesbians.”
They’re not all bad, though. Jane does have some supportive co-workers. Miranda (Tara Borman) is Jane’s primary cheerleader at the office, and also the one who, along with Jane’s roommate Brian (Christopher Knutson), urges Jane to see a doctor, even a specialist, because the extremity of Jane’s symptoms is not normal. Rounding out the ensemble is Kate Cosgrove as their delightfully odd co-worker Ashley, who has a habit of knowing things she shouldn’t know, and also popping up so unexpectedly in scenes that her office mates frequently recoil in surprise. Every now and again, Ashley also startles the audience. There’s an adorably awkward subplot in which Miranda pines (not-so-secretly) for Ashley, delaying so long that she finally has to interrupt a big musical number in order to ask Ashley out on a date before she runs out of time and the show is over. Christopher Knutson also plays Jane’s co-worker Brad, who keeps getting mauled by bears for some reason (at the top of both the first and second acts, in fact), and this provides Jane with her potential big break in taking over Brad’s work on the Big Account.
“Here’s some cramp candy for your missed opportunity.”
What does all this have to do with endometriosis, you ask? Well… next to nothing, which is kind of the problem. The script of the show, and the songs, have a split focus. I think the intent was to show how Jane’s painful, undiagnosed condition is interfering with her work. But partly because Jane’s work is so deliberately unspecific, there aren’t (currently) any details of her day to day with which to interfere. So instead that space is filled with the specifics of who her terrible or lovable coworkers are, rather than what they do. All of which, don’t get me wrong, is very entertaining, but it’s kind of beside the point.
“Healthcare is hell but what the hell can we do?”
Because the other half of the focus of the production is Jane’s quest to understand what’s going on with her own body. This quest is complicated by the fact that nearly everyone in the medical community isn’t listening to her, or dismisses what they do hear from her, or have suggestions for treatment that are either ineffective or completely unworkable. This is compounded by the fact that Jane’s own family - mother, father and brother (O’Keeffe, Strub and Bonko again, respectively) - can’t even tolerate a conversation with her on the topic, leading to an epic scene and song full of euphemisms for menstruation. It takes a while just for Jane’s friends to get Jane to take her own condition seriously, and it then immediately runs into a wall of denial from the medical community. There’s a chilling (but again, still funny) scene in a waiting room where Jane spends time talking to other women who have been kept waiting months, or more than a year, to even get an appointment to speak to a doctor. This scene is punctuated by recitation of often grim facts related to women’s health, plugging the show directly into all too current events outside the theater walls. This prompted a lot of finger snapping, gasps, and noises of assent and agreement in the audience around me.
“I used to work in the circus.”
The production can be really affecting when it tackles the medical community and Jane’s journey through it, but there’s a hiccup in the execution sometimes. The show escalates Jane’s challenges in getting a diagnosis up to a point in act one, and then it starts repeating itself. As funny (and appalling) as Gina’s “Sexy OB-GYN” song is, and as odd as it is for the sexy doctor to turn out to be an Elvis impersonator (of course getting yet another musical number, I mean, you have to, he’s Elvis) - do we need either of these songs, or this one particular doctor? Why is he special? What is he saying that isn’t either parroting what Gina’s earlier song did, or parroting what the earlier chorus line of other doctors did? It’s not an escalation, it’s not really a different step on the journey. When we finally get to a specialist (Borman, again) in act two, it’s very entertaining to have Jane torpedo an entire production number because she doesn’t need another song, she needs someone to listen to her, and to give her some answers. And we also finally get to hear Jane list her symptoms for a doctor and instead of interrupting her, she encourages Jane to keep singing and tell her everything, and the doctor just takes notes, and then, when Jane is done, responds. It’s a great moment. And one we might have gotten to sooner with fewer office antics or doctor repetition.
“Please stop saying ‘pussy porridge’ in this Applebee’s!”
In fact, there’s another great scene right near the top of act two, where Jane’s mother comes to visit her and they finally talk/sing to each other, and hear each other, and it’s just as funny as it is moving. And the production is starting to unpack things like generational ignorance and a code of silent suffering being passed down from one group of women to the next. And then mom disappears for the rest of the play. Why? We were just starting to get somewhere interesting.
“I didn’t become a doctor to help people.”
When we finally reach the doctor who is an expert in endometriosis (Sonneborn, again, these actors all get a workout), when Jane finally gets her diagnosis, when there’s finally a plan, if not a cure, that’s a place I want to spend more time in. Because I have to be honest, I learned more about endometriosis from my pre-show homework on the internet and the playwright’s note in the program at the theater than I did in the musical itself. The production could spend more time there. Because the disease can affect a lot of different aspects of the body, and also of a person’s life. We only really see endometriosis as an inconvenience to Jane’s generic career path. We don’t see it impact her personal life (because she doesn’t really have a personal life). The musical could have done less with the office and more with the character of Jane, and been a more effective vessel for its message. Oh, but the intern (Bonko, again) who the specialist forces to where a uterus costume to demonstrate the effects of the disease? Comedy gold. Again, more of that, please. The creators obviously have the skill to both inform and amuse at the same time. They should trust that they have a willing audience and deliver the information.
“One more woman learning to hide.”
We all know work sucks. We don’t all know about endometriosis, or the maze most women have to navigate to find a doctor to take them seriously and offer some relief. Tell us something we don’t know.
“Sorry to tell you, but your body’s gross and wrong.”
The entire production team deserves a big shout-out, starting with numerous fantastic costumes from designer Ryan McCanna (assisted by Emma Shook). The whole production pops with color coordination and flair, but the weird character moments stand out. There’s the Brad-mauling bear and the intern’s uterus costume, of course, but the scene stealer has to be Aunt Flo, representative of “that time of the month,” in eye-assaulting levels of red and pink, including an enormous fake hairdo. Hats off, no pun intended (because there are bunch of hats in the show, too), to prop designer Mark Steffer for providing everything from Aunt Flo’s red streamers and basket of feminine hygiene products to toss into the audience, to the poop emoji for the big gastroenterology musical number, to all those many edible arrangements. Not sure if this falls in props or costumes, but extra special points for that instant body cast moment at the top of act two.
“A fact we just happened to know.”
Set designer Sadie Ward (assisted by Madison Bunnell), creates a fast-moving world on wheels, including an incredibly versatile and oft-used table (complete with stirrups, yikes!). And I don’t know whether this falls into set or lights, because they do light up inside, but there are a number of very large tampons hanging from the rafters all over the theater. And because this is a musical, I had a passing thought about Sondheim’s Into The Woods, and Jack’s song “There Are Giants In The Sky” - and then my brain jumped to “There Are Tampons In The Sky” (for those of you with that stuck in your head now, you’re welcome). Lighting designer Mark Webb (assisted by Griffin Moore) really outdoes himself here. The show is a feast for the eyes in large part because of the way he punctuates with light and vibrant color all the many special moments of the show, often also comedic, whether they involve bears or Aunt Flo or women verbalizing uncomfortable statistics.
“I don’t have the words to help you.”
Favorite sound moment? The tap dancing sound effect which actors are quite obviously and hilariously not matching with their own footwork in a chorus of doctors musical number. Kudos to sound designer Kristin Smith (assisted by Chris Beason) for that and all the other sound-augmented moments of the show, serious and silly. Also a nod here to the funky non-dancer choreography moves orchestrated by assistant director/choreographer Claire Frederick. I appreciate the philosophy of “If they can’t move, then play it for laughs.” It works here in a big way. No idea how the stage management team of Lauren Volkart, their assistant Ella Crosby, and backstage crew Sommerdai Kier keep all these plates spinning but well done! The thing runs with nary a glitch from start to finish and that can’t have been easy.
“We are what we do next.”
It’s hard for new musicals to find their way to a stage, so it’s nice to see TRP making room for new voices and new melodies. There’s a whole lot to like in this very funny, great-sounding production. I guess my only real quibble is that, when all is said and done, I ended up wanting a little more endometriosis in the musical - which is not a bad place to be, if that’s the message you’re trying to get out into the world.
Endometriosis: The Musical runs through Sunday, July 13, 2025 at Theatre in the Round Players (TRP) (245 Cedar Avenue, Minneapolis, MN 55454)
4 Stars - Highly Recommended
(Poster art courtesy of Theatre in the Round Players)
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