The appeal of seeing an all-new show without any familiar IP, as well as the praise piled upon the New York production, made Shucked my most anticipated ticket of the year by a country mile. And from the opening production number — where a pair of fourth wall-shattering storytellers (Tyler Joseph Ellis, Maya Lagerstam) introduce us to corn-crazy Cob County, the mythical Midwest setting for this fractured farm-to-table fable — this production promises to be a buttery delight, with the exuberant ensemble executing adorable ear-eography.
Independent-minded Maizy (Danielle Wade, a dead ringer for young Dolly Parton) and her old-fashioned beau, Beau (Jake Odmark, the platonic ideal of a Hallmark Movie hero), are about to wed when the crop their community counts on collapses. She defies her fiancé to embark on an agricultural quest to Florida — Shucked does for Tampa what Book of Mormon did for Orlando — and soon returns home with Gordy (Quinn Vanantwerp), a cut-rate Harold Hill fleeing bad debts who claims to have the cure for their blight. This love triangle quickly becomes a quadrangle when Maizy’s sassy, whiskey-slinging cousin Lulu (Miki Abraham) falls for the incompetent antagonist, leading to some low-stakes discord before a predictably happy ever after.
However, it isn’t too long into the first act before this hominy homily starts to reveal some lumps. Robert Horn’s joke-a-minute script extends a storybook-simple plot across two acts by padding it with a parade of age-old gags relying on heartland stereotypes and groan-inducing puns, from PG-13 rated dick humor to dad jokes that were already dated back when they were done on Hee-Haw. There’s no denying the lion’s share of laughs landed with Orlando’s opening night audience — including myself — but they came at the cost of developing any dramatic tension or deeper meanings, beyond “believe in yourself and others.”
None of my critiques should be laid at the feet (or vocal cords) of the talented cast, starting with the core couple. Wade is as appealing an All-American ingenue as one could imagine; Odmark walks a fine balance between toxic masculinity and tenderness; and both have voices that could land them on the pop-country charts. And Shucked’s secret weapon is the scene-stealing Abraham, whose two featured numbers — her barn-burning solo “Independently Owned” and “Friends,” her second-act duet with Wade — are easily the highlights of Brandy Clark & Shane McAnally’s toe-tapping but melodically unmemorable country-fried pastiche score, which conductor Nick Williams’s overcranked quintet smothers the tongue-twisting lyrics under.
Rather, it’s Jack O’Brien’s curiously static staging that makes Shucked (in this touring form, at least) seem uncomfortably like it’s been directed for a three-camera sitcom shot circa 1979, with main characters mugging instead of making eye contact and the confusingly underused ensemble standing stiffly like inanimate props. The only sidekick who really gets to stand out is Beau’s bro, Peanut (Mike Nappi), who, like a Hoosier Henny Youngman, repeatedly stops the show with his Jeff Foxworth-worthy one-liners.
Choreographer Sarah O’Gleby never again hits the heights of her curtain-raiser, with the climactic barrel dance that was raved about on Broadway feeling almost boring here; and even Scott Pask’s initially impressive decrepit-barn set doesn’t evolve or afford multiple playing levels, leaving the scene changes largely to Japhy Weideman’s magic-hour lighting.
As one character says about corn, I happen to adore unabashedly corny humor (like Disneyland’s defunct Golden Horseshoe Revue or Billy Hill and the Hillbillies) and went in wanting to love Shucked. But that style of Americana vaudeville depends on a certain tone and timing, which this show only intermittently achieved for me during its two-and-a-half-hour run.
I got my fair share of belly laughs, so it scores an order of magnitude above this playwright’s Tootsie travesty, but Shucked disappointed me more because I went in blinded by sky-high expectations. If you attend, go in knowing that you’re getting a big tub of tasty popcorn, but you’ll enjoy it more than I did if you don’t chew on all the kernels of unpopped potential lying in the bottom.
Walt Disney Theater, Dr. Phillips Center for the Performing Arts
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This article appears in Jun 25 – Jul 1, 2025.