Given the choice between attending a holiday play and nearly anything else—talking to strangers! oil change! moving!—I would almost ALWAYS choose the latter. It’s not that I have no holiday cheer: I’ve attended many a Nutcracker. David Sedaris and I are cool. There’s a strong chance I’m going to sob through the 1994 version of Little Women at least once this holiday season. I even kind of liked A Christmas Prince!
But holiday plays are tough. They must be as appealing to your mildly racist aunt as your four-year-old niece whose favorite things are trucks and crying because her dad won’t let her have his beer. Holiday shows are often overpriced, unoriginal, creaky repeat productions. We’d all be better off if theater companies didn’t feel obligated to put on these live equivalents of TV’s Extra-Special Holiday Episode. But if you absolutely have to go to a holiday play—if your drunk uncle needs entertainment, if your grandpa finds most movies to be ultraviolent monstrosities—I recommend Portland Playhouse’s A Christmas Carol.