Octet

Photo Credit: Crow's Theatre

Dave Malloy, composer and playwright of the majestic production of Natasha, Pierre & The Great Comet of 1812, returns with a subtle but socially scathing musical performance in Octet. Set in the deeply familiar present of the 21st century, Octet reveals the compelling inner clandestine worlds of eight internet addicts who meet weekly at a support group in the basement of a church. Featuring eight characters from all different walks of life, Malloy masterfully weaves their stories together to underscore how an overdependence on the internet deteriorates our relationships, self-confidence, and overall sense of humanity and self.

Firstly, Octet is a visual treat. Crow’s Theatre’s Guloien Theatre is an intimate venue, and the crew cleverly used that to their advantage, as they created a unique audience experience even prior to the musical’s start. Out of approximately eighty audience members, I had the fortune of being selected for a tarot reading session. Fittingly, I picked “The Devil,” which I found out later represented addiction to materialism and negative obsession. Overall, the tarot session was a pleasant surprise, and foreshadowed Octet’s sheer showmanship and theatre.

Moving on to the eighth characters entering the stage, I have to highlight Madeline Ius (Head of Wardrobe) and Ming Wong (Costume Designer). While it is not extravagant ballgowns and elaborate jewelry, these characters are adorned in basic jeans, lightweight tops, and loose sweaters that come together to capture a deep sense of fatigue and a natural sense of realism.

Similarly, Joshua Quinlan (Set Designer) expertly recreated the quintessential church basement setting of support groups. The religious iconography, fairy lights, and warm yellow lighting all contribute to a nostalgic atmosphere, one that is both comforting but also haunting. It parallels the characters themselves: eight broken and lost people huddling together for understanding and recovery. Malloy’s blocking only adds to this, as he includes instances of the characters together and separately to highlight how uncertain and isolating battling addiction can be.

And yet, there is one exception to the overwhelming mundanity of the set. What appeared to be an ordinary hardwood floor was actually a startling LED screen that flashed dazzling visuals with each character’s spotlight moment. Notably, during Jacqueline Thair’s compelling solo “Refresh,” the floor flashed in a white wave, creating a mesmerizing aura for the performer. This visually intriguing effect shows the impact of the internet, portraying it as the literal foundation of these characters’ lives that consumes them. With the inevitable force of gravity, our cast constantly stands on the screen, dependent and unable to escape.

Although structured as a support group, Octet is mainly told through song. Thus, it is impossible to describe Octet without highlighting the absolute powerhouse vocals from performers like Thair and Giles Tomkins.

Thair’s frantic characterization of Jessica remained strongly intact, even through her most demanding vocal moments. In “Refresh,” she delivered rapid-fire lyrics with perfect enunciation and articulation, capturing the manic energy of her character’s compulsive egosurfing. Paralleling Thair, Tomkin’s resonant bass-baritone powerfully anchors the production, providing a foundation that grounds the raw sound created by the ensemble.

Alongside vocals, performers like Zorana Sadiq brought memorably physical interpretations to the choreography. Her improvised steps and bounces during “Monster” harmonized to the beat, as if she were trying to dig into her soul and free the emotional depth of her character. Fittingly, Sadiq’s staccato vocalization at the beginning of songs served as a solid and beautiful heartbeat for the other actors to sing to.

Finally, Hailey Gillis’ dynamic and unwavering energy naturally commanded the spotlight. But it was her playful body language that elevated her performance. During Damien Atkins’ line “Sometimes I just don’t bathe” in “Candy,” Gillis’ impish swaying and twist revealed a sense of humour and potential camaraderie to these lonely characters, as she physically demonstrates how much lighter her mind and soul could be in moments of joy when she is not thinking about her addiction.

Despite the formidable performance from the cast, Octet does suffer from small moments of hesitation. Atkin’s initial commitment to his character—demonstrated through his crouched physicality with a few fingers in his mouth—established a strong portrait of his character’s anxiety. However, Atkins’ portrayal seemed to waver as the production progressed. During ensemble numbers, Atkins appears to slip into a more neutral performer mode, creating an inconsistency that suggests two separate characters: Henry, the anxious nail-biter, and a generic ensemble member. While both portrayals were well-executed individually, together they undermine the character’s continuity. Thus, a stronger commitment to Henry’s distinct physicality and nervous energy would strengthen the musical’s coherence and consistency.

Ultimately, in an era where the internet, convenience, and instant gratification are ubiquitous, Malloy’s musical is a complicated call to action. It avoids easy answers, preachy solutions, and even a defined resolution. The ending could be considered pessimistic, as no one is magically “cured.” Yet, the characters’ decision to come back next week for another session evokes a sense of relief; as long as these eight are committed to recovery, there is hope for us all. Thus, whether you are a parent concerned about your child, a luddite, an internet safety expert, or simply a casual browser yourself, Octet is a can’t-miss performance.