Hop on the 3 train and buckle up—Olney Theatre Center’s world premiere of “Senior Class” is a joyful, unflinching ride through the intersections of youth, privilege, race, and dreams. With book, music, and lyrics by Melvin Tunstall III and music and vocal arrangements by Greg Dean Borowsky, this high-octane new musical reframes Shaw’s Pygmalion in the hallways of a contemporary performing arts high school—and the results are both dazzling and disarming.

…a joyful, unflinching ride…both dazzling and disarming…smart, funny, and unafraid to ask hard questions. 

We’re swept into the gleaming chaos of adolescence, ambition, and identity—all while riding a cleverly designed rotating stage that seamlessly transforms from a red-and-orange subway car to a prestigious performing arts school, and finally into an upscale Manhattan penthouse adorned with Grammys, floral arrangements, and floor-to-ceiling windows. Scenic designer Lawrence E. Moten III has outdone himself. This set doesn’t just serve the story, it is the story—transitional, performative, and sharply observed.

Directed with heart and humor by Amy Anders Corcoran, when budget cuts threaten a high school musical production of “My Fair Lady,” two Broadway and The Juilliard School-obsessed students—G.B. (Jeffrey Cornelius, magnetic and deeply affecting) and Colin (Bradley Adam Stein, sharp and self-assured) respectively—decide to create their own musical based on the original public-domain play. Their quest to find the perfect Eliza leads them to Alizé, a fellow student and dancer with braids, boldness, and undeniable spark, played with fierce vulnerability by Lauryn Adams.

Alizé’s entrance on the 3 train—mid-commute in a crop top and sneakers—signals that this isn’t your traditional teen musical. It’s funny, yes, but also urgent. The show asks: who gets to be refined? Who gets to be seen? Who gets to dream?

Choreographer Karla Puno Garcia brings Broadway dazzle to numbers like the “42nd Street”-inspired gold sequin tap routine, while the score layers rap battles, dance-offs, and soulful solos into a rhythm that mirrors the heartbeat of a city and its students.

The line “Lowered expectations are a form of racism” echoes throughout the show—sometimes whispered, sometimes shouted. It’s a declaration, a protest, a plea. Alizé may know how to plié and chaîné, but her talent is constantly second-guessed—not because of a lack of ability, but because of the color of her skin. “No one would believe you’re high class,” G.B. tells her, prior to that asserting, “I’m Black, I can’t be racist.” His comments open the door to deeper conversations about internalized bias, privilege, colorism, and class tension within the Black community. Yet “Senior Class” tackles these themes without losing its rhythm or musicality. This is no small feat, and in doing so, it interrogates the narratives so often told about race, class, and who gets to belong.

Supporting cast members like Quadry Brown (as Dre’Marcus), Jordyn Taylor (as Ty’Quasia), and Ciara Hargrove (understudy for Alizé/Ty’Quasia) bring authenticity, humor, and fire to the ensemble. Their dynamic presence anchors the production in a reality that feels both local and universal. The ensemble itself deserves high praise. They rap, roast, and dance their way through the show with moments of Black joy and precision.

A late-breaking solo, “Where Do We Go From Here?” by Cornelius, sung after a fellow student/cast member’s (Freddy) injury, is a quiet showstopper. It’s a moment of reflection and transformation, expertly guided by Dolores Duran-Cefalu’s emotionally intelligent music direction.

The design team works in harmony to elevate the storytelling. Kendra Rai’s costumes blend prep-school polish with streetwear edge. Colin K. Bills’ lighting shifts effortlessly between city streets and spotlighted dreams. Kevin Alexander’s sound design drops us straight into subway tunnels, rehearsal rooms, and living rooms full of history.

“Senior Class” ultimately feels like a love letter—to possibility, to performance, and to every student who’s ever dared to dream beyond the roles they were handed. It pokes fun at the very idea that audiences can accept magical realism and colorblind casting, but still struggle to believe in a Black upper-class family. “They can believe a white woman gave birth to two Black children on stage, but not that a Black family could be upper class?” a character asks. It’s smart, funny, and unafraid to ask hard questions. This production doesn’t just entertain—it disrupts. Like the best train rides, it takes you somewhere you didn’t expect, but absolutely needed to go.

Running Time: Approximately tow hours and 30 minutes with one intermission.

“Senior Class” runs through June 22, 2025, at 2001 Olney-Sandy Spring Road, Olney, MD 20832. For tickets and more information, call the Box Office at 301.924.3400, Wednesday – Sunday: 12:00- 6:00 pm or go online.