'Avenue Q' review: The Dio’s raunchy puppet musical is a heartfelt triumph

Courtesy of Michelle Anliker Photography

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Ever seen two puppets “do it” onstage? You will, and you won’t forget it, in the laugh-out-loud, wonderfully inappropriate production of “Avenue Q,” now playing at The Dio. If you’re not familiar with the show that beat “Wicked” for Best Musical at the 2004 Tonys (yes, seriously), think “Sesame Street” meets R-rated comedy club. Accidentally bring a kid? You’ll be explaining a lot more than the word of the day on the ride home.

With a book by Jeff Whitty and music and lyrics by Robert Lopez and Jeff Marx, “Avenue Q” tells a story about purpose, love, race, and disappointment, all through a mix of humans and puppets living on a crummy little block in a forgotten corner of New York. The Dio’s cozy dinner-theater setup might sound small, but scenic designer Matt Tomich pulls off a slick and effective set, complete with a cheeky built-in TV screen that perfectly captures the show’s homemade, “PBS,” flair and street-corner charm.

Though the show premiered off-Broadway in 2003, it’s uncanny how current its themes still feel. “Everyone’s a Little Bit Racist,” the show’s most infamous song, pulls no punches as it dives into stereotypes and social taboos, a number that would almost certainly look different if written today. But part of “Avenue Q’s” charm is its equal-opportunity satire. No one gets off easy. It’s crass, it’s bold, and it dares you to laugh at the uncomfortable truths we all share. Some bits will earn groans. Some, full-on belly laughs. But at its core, this is an unexpectedly heartfelt show about finding your purpose and staying true to yourself, even if you’re a felt monster with a dirty mind.

And The Dio has assembled a cast who can do it all: sing, dance, puppeteer, and still hit every laugh. As Princeton, Bret Beaudry brings wide-eyed charm to a recent college grad looking for purpose (and rent he can afford). He lands in Avenue Q, where life sucks and nobody has their act together. He’s joined by a lovable gang of neighbors, both human and puppet: struggling comic Brian (Steve DeBruyne), his intense “oriental” fiancée Christmas Eve (Kylee Ayar - completely game for the script’s chao), building superintendent Gary Coleman (Jacqui Blue, yes that Gary Coleman), as well as Rod and Nicky (clear Bert and Ernie riffs), Trekkie Monster (addicted to the internet), and sweet, awkward Kate Monster (Kennedy Vernengo), who might just be Princeton’s soulmate. They dance through songs about porn, racism, and existential despair with the peppy energy of a Saturday morning cartoon. The tonal tightrope they walk is impressive.

What makes this production really sing is how well the cast handles the show’s split personality: playing their characters while puppeteering them at the same time: often multiple ones. Vernengo is a knockout, bouncing between Kate and another character named Lucy (whose last name I won’t reveal here) with pitch-perfect vocals and comic precision. One moment she’s melting hearts, the next she’s cracking jokes about what happens behind closed puppet doors. Watching her argue with herself onstage is a total masterclass.

Performing, singing, and puppeteering all at once is a Herculean task (you’re essentially giving two performances at the same time). Connor Thomas Rhoades is a joy as Nicky and the internet-addicted Trekkie Monster. Carrie Sayer delivers big laughs as one of the “Bad Idea Bears,” which are adorably deranged Care Bear parodies who gleefully suggest gambling, drinking, and other self-destructive choices. Beaudry shines as both the idealistic Princeton and the tightly wound Rod, who is grappling with his sexuality in the most repressed, Broadway-musical way possible. And on the human side, Jacqui Blue is a standout as Gary Coleman, a wonderfully weird and pointed symbol of fading fame and childhood nostalgia. It shouldn’t work. And yet, it totally does.

Director Steve DeBruyne (who also charms as Brian, complete with a memorable bit about going commando) keeps everything moving like clockwork. In a show where the actors and their puppets have to move, interact, and stay synchronized, his staging is sharp, fluid, and never distracting. And Autumn Sierra’s choreography keeps the energy high without ever feeling overstuffed.

Let’s be real: puppeteering and performing isn’t easy. You’re doing two shows at once, your face has to emote while your hand brings a puppet to life. It’s a technical feat, and this cast makes it look effortless. The result is electric.

Tomich’s set design also features dynamic, colorful lighting that adds to the faux-educational vibe, while Norma Polk’s costumes, for both humans and puppets, strike the perfect balance between characterful and absurd. Musical director Lisa Merte deserves major props for keeping everything tight and tuneful. You’d never guess there isn’t a live orchestra in the pit, the backing track is that smooth.

The Dio’s “Avenue Q” is a raunchy, smart, heartfelt triumph. Because of the logistical challenges of mounting a full puppet musical, it’s not produced very often, and that makes this staging even more special. Plus, watching unsuspecting audiences react, jaws on the floor, eyes wide, laughing until they cry, is the type of communal experience we all could use right now.

To be clear, this isn’t for the faint of heart. There are songs about porn, masturbation, and yes, there is simulated puppet sex. But the vulgarity isn’t just for shock, it’s a tool. “Avenue Q” uses its unapologetically naughty humor to teach grown-ups the lessons we sometimes miss or need to be reminded about: community, friendship, purpose, and, perhaps most crucially, how to laugh at ourselves.

IF YOU GO:

The Dio’s production of AVENUE Q continues through August 10th. Tickets include a full course meal and non-alcoholic beverage. Tickets can be purchased here.