Jul 22, 2026 admin_bitlc Features, Music News, Musical Theatre, Reviews 0
By Peter Thomas Ricci
Halfway through Goodman Theatre’s staging of Dave Malloy’s phenomenal musical “Octet,” I considered two memories.
The first was when I purchased my first iPhone in 2011. Although the cursed device had been available for five years, it was freshly accessible through Verizon’s cellular network, and my brother and I devoted an entire evening to scouring the hardware and software capabilities of our new phones – browsing the Internet, sending each other text messages (from our respective rooms five feet apart), and connecting our e-mail accounts. In the weeks that followed, I operated in a tech-induced euphoria: I could read and send e-mails from the train! I could engage in street photography while also listening to David Bowie’s “Station to Station” from the same device. To paraphrase the most famous line from Mike Daisey’s monologue “The Agony and the Ecstasy of Steve Jobs,” it felt like magic.
The second was a few years later when the iPhone’s profound threats to mental health (if not society writ large) first became clear to me. I was riding the Red Line north to my apartment in Andersonville, and the passenger sitting next to me was immersed in a game of “Candy Crush.” Although I remained, at the time, committed to my beloved iPhone, my use of the device was borderline analogue – I answered questions on the browser, I checked e-mails, I listened to radio and podcasts. I had no notifications established, had never played a game, and had successfully limited my app library to a single homepage. Contrast that with the passenger next to me, who devoted their entire ride (from Lake all the way to Bryn Mawr) playing “Candy Crush.” The mere memory of their concentration makes me woozy, and it was my initiation into the tech’s ability to distract and harm.

I share those memories because they demonstrate how “Octet” represents the very finest qualities of Chicago theater. Dazzling, challenging, exhausting, and ultimately inspiring, this is a musical that must be experienced.
Set in an undisclosed meeting space in an undisclosed city, “Octet” concerns eight individuals who all struggle with unique iterations of Internet and tech addiction. Taking place in real time across a ~100 minute meeting, the individuals take turns sharing their addictions in song, and a number of group numbers punctuate the action. Throughout the show, Malloy writes with power, grace, and unflinching honesty about the self destruction that tech addictions inspire, whether it be mobile gaming, social media mentions, pornography, dating, or online debates.
Such profundity, though, occurs entirely without musical accompaniment; instead, the musical is a cappella, and the dizzying brilliant cast of “Octet” profound their own counter melodies and percussion entirely through their voices and bodies. Indeed, the cast members must be acknowledged – Neala Barron, Jonah Cochin, Elliot Esquivel, Joryhebel Ginorio, Jordan Golding, Teressa La Gamba, Ryder Dean McDaniel, Sam Shankman, and Grace Steckler – as they all fearlessly commit to their characters and their incredibly challenging dispositions. And they do so with a relentlessness that is critical to the show’s power. Performed without an intermission, the musical reminded me of “Wit,” the famed Pulitzer Prize-winning play from Margaret Edson that brutally dissects a woman’s fatal struggle with cancer across one draining 100-minute act. Such shows inevitably carry risk – the audience’s attention may waver, the show’s focus and intensity may weaken, the actors and production crew may slip – but when the talent is as abundant as it is in “Octet,” the effect is one with no comparison in other artistic mediums. There we are, trapped with these sad, desperate characters trying to manage their addictions, and with no respite that an intermission would undoubtedly provide – much like how a tech addict may feel amidst multi-hour browsing or posting sessions.
Theater is immediate, theater is urgent, and “Octet” is among the finest examples of that most-necessary truth in these fraught times.
Playing through Aug. 2 at The Goodman Theatre
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