Stage/Theatre

What: Jagged Little Pill
Where: Princess of Wales Theatre, 300 King St. W.
When: Now, until Sun., Nov. 26
Highlight: “You Oughta Know” explosively performed by Toronto native Jade McLeod in a sequence perfectly calibrated by director Diane Paulus
Rating: NNN (out of 5)
Why you should go: The show captures the universality of popular music.

DOES ANY MUSICAL have as clear a high point as Jagged Little Pill? Late in the Alanis Morissette jukebox musical’s second act, the song You Oughta Know arrives, justifying the show’s existence. Explosively performed by Toronto native Jade McLeod in a sequence perfectly calibrated by director Diane Paulus, it engulfs the theatre in energy.

Though nothing else in Mirvish’s touring production of Jagged Little Pill touches those divine minutes, a handful of other numbers make smart use of Morissette’s tunes (co-written with Glen Ballard). There’s a lot of bloat surrounding these high points, however — opening night ran perilously close to three hours, a difficult fact to look past considering the unfocused nature of Diablo Cody’s book.

Like Dear Evan Hansen and Next to Normal before it, Jagged Little Pill centres on an American family with teenage children. Mary Jane (Julie Reiber) and Steve (Benjamin Eakeley) are parents to Nick (Dillon Klena) and Frankie (Teralin Jones); the show tells us that “happy families only exist in orange juice commercials and Utah,” so there are some complications: Mary Jane has a drug addiction, the overworked Steve wants a better sex life and the adopted Frankie (who is Black, though the others are white) feels her parents treat her worse than Nick, who got into Harvard on early admission.

It’s not necessarily a problem that the show, at times, feels like a potluck of different social issues. This is more or less an accurate representation of 2010s high school life — with global culture moving as fast as it does, it’s hard to restrict your attention to a single topic. What’s confusing is that, after its roving first act, the second picks a focus: the story of a teenage girl, Bella (Allison Sheppard), who’s raped at a party. This would make plenty of sense as the entire show’s focus; it’s odd for it to surface so late and push aside everything that came before.

Visually, Jagged Little Pill is rather barren. Scenic designer Riccardo Hernández uses one or two set pieces for each location, leaving the rest of the stage open. There is some ornamentation — glowing wire traces out the shape of a house, and video designer Lucy Mackinnon’s literal projections ensure settings are clear — but also much darkness. The show looks its best when Justin Townsend is blasting rock-concert lighting, leaning into the piece’s theatricality.

Reiber and Jones make terrific work of their characters’ mother-daughter dynamic. With so much going on in the show (including a too-present ensemble), they have to work hard not to be swallowed up. Sheppard, too, stands out as Bella — it’s rare to see a performance in a commercial musical that’s so emotionally vulnerable. Eakeley’s Steve is less believable, however. It’s unclear to what degree his character is meant to be taken seriously; a middle-aged male lawyer cheerily belting out Morissette songs never feels quite right.

The most exciting thing about Jagged Little Pill is the way it captures the universality of popular music. When its characters sing, it’s as if they’re listening to these songs on the way home from school, connecting their lives to Morisette’s lyrics like the rest of us do. That relatability propels the show throughout.