REVIEW: Firebringer - IQ Productions, PIP Theatre

When I sat down to watch Firebringer: A Stone Age Musical, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. I mean, I knew it was a StarKid show, so I braced myself for chaos, silliness, and probably a toilet joke or two… but nothing quite prepared me for the absolutely bonkers and joyful absurdity that unfolded at PIP Theatre. Even stone-cold sober, I was still laughing harder than I have in ages.

Under the direction of Louella Baldwin (with Isabelle Quayle as assistant director and choreographer, and Benjamin Richards for musical direction), this prehistoric fever dream was a triumph of committed comedy, unexpected heart, and brilliant performers leaning into the madness with full force. It’s a credit to Baldwin’s direction that a show this campy still felt oddly grounded and coherent in its own internal logic.

From the get-go, the show leapt into action with pounding drums, a wild ensemble number, and Rae Rose’s Molag—our narrator—welcoming us to the prehistoric past. Rae is always comedy gold. They bring this magnetic, spontaneous energy that makes it feel like you are in for something unpredictable—and it's all the more hilarious because of it. Their choice of accent alone had me chuckling within seconds. It’s always a joy to watch a performer so confident and comfortable in their comedic skin.

The cast as a whole was a beautifully cohesive tribe of misfits. Lucy Ross anchored the show as Jemilla, the Peacemaker (and occasional buzzkill). Her take was beautifully balanced—authoritative without being cold, nurturing without being soft, and fabulously fluid in her queerness. She belted her heart out in “Jemilla’s Lament” and led with the kind of passion you’d expect from someone trying to manage a tribe that worships a duck as their deity. You know, the usual.

Then came Zazzalil—played by Kaitlin Evans—storming the stage with the frenzied energy of someone who’s one spark away from inventing fire, yet also one nap away from giving up entirely. Zazzalil was instantly relatable in her desperate desire to just be lazy all day. Total mood. Vocally, Kaitlin was an absolute force, as they needed to be, appearing in almost every number! “Into the Night” and "The Night Belongs to Us" closed out Act One with such power and emotional punch that I genuinely got goosebumps (likely due to Lucy's Defying-Gravity-war-cry ending).

Speaking of standouts, the other Kaitlin—Kaitlyn Burton as Keeri—was an absolute riot as Zazzalil's blissfully oblivious sidekick, just floating through in her own little world. Her physical comedy was utterly insane and utterly perfect. I don’t know what she was doing half the time, but I wanted more of it. Honestly, I could’ve watched an entire spin-off about Keeri and I'd still be craving more!

Ally Hickey as Emberly and Kyle Armstrong as Grunt brought genuine sweetness to “Just a Taste,” a duet that somehow made leaf and berry sandwiches the new aphrodisiac. Their chemistry was adorably quirky, hitting that sweet spot between awkward, endearing, and downright bizarre. Then came their later number, “Paint Me,” which had me absolutely floored. Equal parts poetic and grotesque, it took the concept of poop painting (yes, you read that right) and turned it into something weirdly moving and almost…beautiful? The duo delivered it with such wide-eyed sincerity that you couldn’t help but fall in love with them a little. Plus, I’m a sucker for a well-executed harmonic duet.

Keeping the comedy alive, Christopher Batkin as Smelly Balls (yes, that’s the character’s name, and no, I won’t elaborate) and Reagan Warner as Ducker, the spokesperson for their duck deity, both leaned into the play’s ludicrous tone with full commitment. Every line was delivered with such conviction and nuance that I laughed every. single. time. And in a more grounded but equally hilarious form of comedy, Isaac Brown as the fabulously fairy-like Neanderthal was pure joy. With an air of quiet sass and a twinkle of chaos behind every movement, he brought the kind of understated camp that sneaks up on you and steals every scene. His improvisation was razor-sharp, presence magnetic, and role as part of Jemilla’s new fancy, peace-loving tribe of Neanderthals? Absolutely inspired.

Madeline Harper stunned as Schwoopsie with some delightfully terrible jokes and jaw-dropping vocals in “The Night Belongs to Snarl.” All these weeks later, I still can’t stop saying Schwoopsie! I bet she can’t either. And Ruby Gleeson as Tiblyn: she went from adorable sky-holder to philosophical nihilist in about two scenes, and it was both hilarious and oddly poignant. Watching her spiral about the meaninglessness of life was such a vibe. Loretta Melit’s Chorn had literally one word—“Chorn”—but somehow kept it fresh and funny every time. No notes. Just Chorn.

The group numbers were a real highlight, with “Welcome to the Stone Age” and “We Got Work to Do” absolutely nailing the big ensemble choreography (shoutout to Isabelle Quayle). The harmonies in “The Night Belongs to Us” were heavenly, and the closing duet “Together” between Zazzalil and Jemilla, followed by the full-cast finale, left the whole theatre buzzing.

Design-wise, the costumes and hair were fabulously detailed, with a charmingly DIY prehistoric aesthetic. And I cannot not mention the giant puppets—the sabretooth tiger and mammoth puppets were legitimately awesome. I hope someone kept those. I want them at my next birthday party. The 5-piece band, led by Benjamin Richards, was excellent and totally nailed the eclectic StarKid sound, complete with full marimba (cool!) and a whole lot of percussion.

The audience was absolutely losing it the whole time. They were cackling, cheering, and belly-laughing like a bunch of hyenas. It was as if everyone walked in clueless (like my guest) and left thoroughly converted to the Church of the Almighty Duck. Naturally, it wouldn’t be a StarKid show without some sharp commentary hidden amidst the chaos. The act two opener “Climate Change”—featuring the completely unironic line, “Maybe we could change the climate permanently if we burn enough stuff”—was just chef’s kiss. Hilarious, painful, and disturbingly spot-on.

I’d only ever seen bits and pieces of Firebringer online, so I had no idea where it was going at any given moment—which honestly made it even better. Every twist was more bonkers than the last, and I loved every minute of it. Was it ridiculous? Absolutely. A little coarse in places? You bet. But it was also witty, musical, heartfelt, and completely joyous. This production captured the show's chaotic essence and turned it into something truly special with an incredibly talented cast.

If you ever get the chance to see Firebringer, do it (it's on Youtube). And maybe bring a drink. Or a duck. Just don’t blame me when you’re still quoting ‘I don’t really wanna do the work today’ weeks later.

Photos by Stage Shots and Lavender Prod