Booked & Scene

From Retreat to Requiem: The Evolution of Night Side Songs  

This isn’t just a new musical—it’s a long-simmering act of creation. Night Side Songs began as a flicker of an idea at the Rhinebeck Writers Retreat back in 2016. What followed was nearly a decade of evolution: from early communal singing experiments in 2018 to A.R.T.’s commissioning of a new piece inspired by the first successful chemotherapy trials of the 1960s.  

The timeline reads like a masterclass in new work development: a 2020 workshop, musical deep-dives in 2021, major script revisions and a full workshop in 2022, further refinement and the beginning of collaboration with Philadelphia Theatre Company in 2023. After a final round of tuning in late 2024, Night Side Songs met its first audiences at NYC’s Under the Radar Festival in January 2025, premiered officially at PTC in February, and now lands at A.R.T. in March with an emotional gut punch and a final note that echoes.

A Five-Part Harmony: This Cast Shines  

This show works because this cast works—flawlessly, generously, with every fiber of their being. Each of the five performers slipped between characters and emotions like seasoned storytellers on a mission.

Jordan Dobson as Harris was magnetic. His performance of Santa Cruz was one of those moments where time stops—absolutely stunning. And his final scene, playing a nurse in quiet communion with Yasmine, was nothing short of devastating.

Robi Hager as the doctor—and the de facto MC of our communal singing journey—brought unstoppable energy and open-hearted charisma. His constant engagement with both cast and audience created a connective tissue that held the piece together beautifully.

Brooke Ishibashi. I mean. Come on. What a gift to witness. She brought levity and wit to her side characters, but when she landed as Yasmine… it was like the floor fell out from beneath us. A heartbreaker in all the best ways.

Johnathan Raviv as Frank handled the nuanced role of caregiver and partner with grace. His portrayal captured the aching blend of love, responsibility, and helplessness that comes with walking alongside someone in decline.

Mary Testa. The legend herself. Whether as a mother, Prudence, or other side characters, she brought warmth, wisdom, and humor. Her presence grounded the show in a way only Mary Testa could.

A Finale to Remember… Forever  

Let’s talk about that ending. The last 20–25 minutes of Night Side Songs are, quite simply, seared into my memory. Raw, gut-wrenching, emotionally honest—this is how you do a finale.  

The communal song at the end? Transcendent. With different audience sections carrying unique vocal parts, it became a collective act of mourning, celebration, and remembrance. I’ve never left a theatre more speechless, surrounded by others equally silenced by the weight of what we’d just experienced. A masterclass.

Too Bright for the Night Side  (I should change this section title… help.) 

Here’s where the light dims—literally. The decision to keep the house lights on for the entire performance, presumably to aid the communal singing, had the unintended effect of pulling focus. I found my eyes wandering across the audience instead of staying locked on the stage.

And while the finale’s communal song was breathtaking, the earlier attempts at audience participation didn’t land with quite the same impact. Some moments felt more performative than participatory—one-note humming or quick phrases that didn’t feel essential. That said, the cast’s commitment to the format was what kept me engaged at all. Their belief in the experience pulled us in, even when the material didn’t demand it.

It leaves me wondering: what would this show feel like if only the finale was communal? Would that make the final moment hit harder? Or would it falter because we hadn’t been singing all along? I’m not sure—but I’ve been turning that question over for 15 hours now.

The Pitch vs. The Play  

Let’s talk marketing. The show has been sold as a “healing evening of communal singing” focused on chronic illness. That’s… not quite what I experienced.  

This is a show about cancer—capital C—and the grief, devastation, and love that surround it. There’s a specificity to that journey that differs profoundly from other chronic illnesses like lupus or POTS. This isn’t a “healing night” in the soothing sense. This is a grief-stained cry into the void. A beautifully rendered one, yes—but not a balm.

I wonder if reframing the show’s narrative toward grief and cancer’s ripple effect might give future audiences a more accurate lens through which to experience it.

The Tears (and the Show) Will Stay With Me  

Night Side Songs left me gutted. It also left me grateful. In a season of strong theater, this show has the most unforgettable finale I’ve seen across 40+ productions this year.  

It’s not for everyone. Depending on where you are in your life or grief journey, it may be too much to hold. Death, terminal illness, loss of a spouse or parent—this show doesn’t tiptoe. It dives deep. And it expects you to dive with it.

But if you can meet it where it is, Night Side Songs will change you. Even if it hurts. Especially because it hurts.