The Outsiders North American Tour Company | Photo by Matthew Murphy
“Not even the rattling of the train could keep me awake, and I went to sleep in a hoodlum’s jacket, with a gun lying next to my hand.”
Perhaps my favourite passage from S.E. Hinton’s novel, it is, at least, the one that’s burnt itself most permanently into my memory—a moment in the boxcar of a train out of Tulsa, when our protagonist Ponyboy is falling asleep sprawled over his best friend Johnny Cade’s stretched-out legs, snuggled into the too-big jacket of their surrogate older brother Dally.
Never having read it in youth, I caught up with this classic of young adult fiction earlier this year and fell pretty hard for its hyper-emotive melodrama. At the risk of outing myself as a privileged and problematic gay, projecting my fixations onto supposedly straight stories when I should be unequivocally queering it up in solidarity or whatever, I admit that I’ve never been so inexorably drawn to gay love stories the way I am to intense male friendships tinged with violence. Openly vulnerable dudes hugging, crying and kicking the shit out of each other—that’s my deal. John Woo’s heroic bloodshed and the original Road House provide my homoerotic fix in a way Brokeback Mountain just can’t.
Now that you have some context for how Hinton’s story rattles about my psyche, let me, finally, tell you about how this musical version of The Outsiders, presented by Mirvish, satisfies both my narrative fetishes and enthusiasm for exceptionally well-executed theatre.
The adaptation is pretty solid, with a charming book by Adam Rapp and Justin Levine, and appropriately Southern vibey songs by Jamestown Revival (Jonathan Clay, Zach Change) and Levine. Though I found myself not fully appreciating its musical identity until quite late, from the propulsive momentum of the first act’s closing number, “Run Run Brother,” onwards, I was onboard.
The material is sufficient; Danya Taymor’s exhilarating direction, though, is what really gives this urgency and emotive force.
Set in 1960s Tulsa, Oklahoma, our protagonist and narrator is Ponyboy Curtis (Nolan White). He lives with his brothers—the strict, fatherly stand-in Darrel (Travis Roy Rogers) and sweet goofball Sodapop (Corbin Drew Ross). Ponyboy’s best friend, Johnny Cade (Bonale Fambrina), comes from a rough home and has been recently traumatized by a violent run-in with a wealthy clique—the “socs.” With echoes of West Side Story, the socs have an ongoing feud with the “greasers,” poor, long-haired ruffians with an intimate communal connection.
Tensions peak when Ponyboy befriends the popular soc, Cherry Valance (Emma Hearn, holding her own amidst all the masculine energy). Their connection suggests some common humanity between the groups, but it will take a lot of angst and bloodshed before the message reaches beyond them. Lead by Cherry’s boyfriend, Bob (Mark Doyle), the socs ambush Ponyboy and almost drown him. Johnny, on instinct, stabs Bob, killing him.
After ex-con and bad-ass role model, Dallas, aka Dally (Jaydon Nget, at opening), sends them on the run and onto a train to an abandoned church, where the two hide out and bond even more fully, a series of events prompt the duo into impulsive action that turns them, though already criminals, into local heroes too. This is also where Johnny is fatally injured, but in his final message, helps Ponyboy rediscover his ambition and reconnect with his brothers. His famous parting line, “stay gold, Ponyboy” manifests in my favourite number here, “Stay Gold,” a beautiful ode to friendship and appreciating life on its own terms that had me an absolute wreck by the end.
In moments of heightened violence, culminating in the rain-soaked rumble of the second act—water, blood and hypnotic movement explode across the stage in theatrical, highly subjective violent spectacle that is at once stylish and visceral. The choreographic (Rick Kuperman and Jeff Kuperman) and design elements—lighting (Brian MacDevitt), sound (Cody Spencer), projection (Hana S. Kim)—immerse us in the fraught headspace of the characters—actual punches transform into contemporary dance, while strobing light and graceful gestures expand the fleshy impacts into a lyrical, kinetic expression of unleashed aggression. As a contrast to the wet ferocity of the fighting, the equally stunning church inferno sequence (special effects by Jeremy Chernick and Lillis Meeh), with its deeply persuasive flickering orange blaze and billowing smoke, is gloriously overwhelming.
Nolan White and The Outsiders North American Tour Company | Photo by Matthew Murphy
With elegance, emotive purpose and technical proficiency, The Outsiders offers up some truly wild stagecraft.
AMP’s scenic design features gigantic tires, scaffolding, and a few old cars integrated naturally into the bustling action and a textured backdrop of wood and rust that becomes a drive-in movie screen, a series of weathered buildings and even a forced perspective train track—all of these conspiring to evoke the grit and grim of a dusty town. Especially effective is the loose gravel strewn about the stage which is kicked up in the exuberant, playful choreography. Kim’s projections, splashing imagery across this backdrop, conjure a series of cosmic, fiery and ambient visuals that elevate the oppressive environment into expansive, imaginative visions of hope and transcendence. The starscapes and sunsets are impressive, but my favourite bit of atmospheric detailing is the gentle, eerie sway of tree branches in moonlight.
Sarafina Bush’s costumes provide aesthetic definition for both the socs, with their pastel dresses and varsity jackets, and the greasers, a sexy, rough-and-tumble blend of frayed jeans and tight, torn T-shirts.
Little more than a means of transport in the novel, the train becomes a unifying narrative motif here. The horn and headlamps are a resonant echo, not simply a symbol of escape, but an ominous portent of death which reverberates throughout.
The stirring audio-visual pageantry is grounded by sincere, heartfelt performances. While not the most compelling characterization here, White’s Ponyboy is appealing enough and a solid focal point. As Johnny, Fambrina has an especially endearing side-kick energy, wounded yet spunky, radiating love. Nget’s Dally is a haunting portrait of tough, empathetic manhood. I found that Ross, with a high-pitched, gentle voice for the character, gave the childlike Sodapop surprising gravitas, his naive comments betraying an underlying wisdom that holds their volatile brotherly dynamic together. I also found Katie Riedel feisty and amusing as Marcia, Cherry Valence’s best friend.
It was hard for me to sleep after seeing this. The charged air of the show kept me buzzing well into the early morning. The final scene, which sees the grieving Ponyboy eventually opening up to life again, runs a bit long, especially after the emotive punch of “Stay Gold,” but other than that, it’s such a sublime, consistently electrifying production.
The Outsiders
June 17 to July 26, 2026
Princess of Wales Theatre
(300 King Street West)
2 hours, 30 minutes (includes intermission)
The Outsiders North American Tour Company | Photo by Matthew Murphy