Interludes

VIEWPOINTS – Working through grief through song: Taking a look at Ruthie Ann Miles’ PERFECT IMPERFECT and the Bengsons’ MY JOY IS HEAVY

• By drediman
• March 26, 2026
• No Comments

For practitioners of music theater, arguably the best way to process emotional trauma is through their craft, particularly through song and the act of storytelling. This therapeutic exercise was exemplified by a pair of memoir-like performances I recently had the opportunity to take in. As per usual, read on for my thoughts on these affecting musical confessionals.

RUTHIE ANN MILES: PERFECT IMPERFECT
Lincoln Center Presents American Songbook at the Appel Room
One-night-only

Last week, I had the great privilege of catching Perfectly Imperfect (HIGHLY RECOMMENDED), Ruthie Ann Miles’ devastating, gutsy, and hopeful solo cabaret debut at the gorgeous Appel Room at Jazz at Lincoln Center. One of the headliners of Lincoln Center’s American Songbook series — which has been revitalized this season by the busy and multi-talented Clint Ramos — the Tony-winner is beloved by audiences and the theater community for having the uncanny ability to fully embody roles (even relatively minor ones) in a way that feels vitally connected with her fellow actors onstage, as well as for the range and purity of her voice. With her star fast on the rise, tragedy struck in 2018 — while crossing a street in Brooklyn, a reckless driver struck her family, killing both her young daughter and her unborn child. For one night only, the Tony-winner opened up her heart and let us in to show us her profound grief and share her ongoing process of healing. Both raw and courageous, the concert was a many-splendored thing to behold, and ultimately a love-fest for the musical theater star. In many instances, she repurposed songs from the popular songbook, finding new meaning in songs like Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On” and Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline”. Despite the devastation underlying the evening, Miles defiantly chose songs that lifted her from the depths of her despair — many of them with a focus on light and the sun — including emotionally fraught, at times forceful renditions of “You Are My Sunshine” (in a tender and candid duet with her mother), “Tomorrow” from Annie, and the Beatles’ “Here Comes the Sun”. And to hear her sing “Here Lies Love” — if only as part of a song mash-up — had me tearing up (if you can’t already tell, I was obsessed with her portrayal of Imelda Marcos in the original Off-Broadway staging of Hear Lies Love at the Public).

MY JOY IS HEAVY
New York Theatre Workshop
Through April 12

Currently on the boards at Off-Broadway’s New York Theatre Workshop in the East Village, you’ll find the Bengsons’ My Joy Is Heavy (RECOMMENDED), the couple’s latest entry in a string of musical memoirs chronicling their love and marriage. This newest addition finds the duo addressing mental wellness — namely reconciling grief with joy — during the global pandemic. More specifically, the show delves into the emotional toll of suffering through a miscarriage and the isolation caused by lockdown, particularly in contrast to the simple everyday joys of living their lives as parents to their young son. To be sure, the Bengsons continue to be immensely likable (if quirky) personalities and joyful musicians. Abigail, especially, really loses herself in song, often producing banshee-like wails when the spirit fully takes over her. Nicely contrasting her intensity, Shaun is a calming and much more subdued presence, beautifully calibrating his performance to accommodate the fluctuating scale of his wife’s voracity. More so than their previous shows (most of them mounted at New York Theatre Workshop), My Joy Is Heavy feels more ingrained in traditional theatrical storytelling, complete with musicians from the band (terrific, all) who double as characters in the Bengsons’ autobiographical episodes. As directed by Tony-winner Rachel Chavkin (Hadestown, Natasha, Pierre & The Great Comet of 1812), there’s a laidback essence to the production that invites empathy as it organically and unassumingly unfolds with heartfelt candor. Indeed, the Bengsons are, refreshingly, nothing if not completely themselves throughout. Although some songs land more successfully than others, their indie/folk/punk-inspired score is nevertheless compelling — at once deeply personal and immediately accessible. And at just over an hour, the show does an admirable job of not getting bogged down nor hitting you over the head with excessive musings.