HEATED RIVALRY: The Unauthorized Musical Parody
Book, Music and Lyrics by Dylan MarcAurele
Directed by Alan Kliffer, Presented by Klif Entertainment
Jay Armstrong Johnson Sean Nyberg Pete Shilaimon & Mickey Liddell
Susan & Frank Kliffer Ann Merriam JL Pomeroy Burnt Umber Productions
The Club, 530 West 27th Street, New York, NY 10001
May 12, 2026 - September 7, 2026
The first surprise of Heated Rivalry: The Unauthorized Musical Parody is that it works at all. The second is how gloriously, uproariously, unexpectedly well it works. On paper, Dylan MarcAurele’s musical adaptation of the wildly popular hockey-romance phenomenon sounds like the sort of niche entertainment destined to delight only the already converted: a campy, low-budget sendup of a television series about two professional hockey players whose secret affair evolves into an epic love story. Yet somewhere between the absurdity, the innuendo, the improbable sincerity, and an astonishingly gifted cast, this scrappy Off-Broadway confection becomes something rarer than parody. It becomes a genuine crowd-pleaser, a love letter to fandom, and, at moments, a surprisingly affecting piece of musical theater.
The production arrives during the long intermission between cultural obsessions and their inevitable sequels. Fans of Heated Rivalry are now condemned to wait until 2027 for the next installment of Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov’s saga, and MarcAurele cleverly frames the entire evening as a public service for the emotionally stranded. Enter three suburban wine moms, all named Susan, who function as a Greek chorus of thirst, devotion, and unapologetic obsession. Played by Ryann Redmond, Cherry Torres, and Ryan Duncan, these Susans guide the audience through the mythology of Heated Rivalry with the fervor of evangelical disciples and the comic timing of seasoned sketch performers. Their opening anthem, an increasingly unhinged catalog of exactly what they seek from television entertainment, “Gay. Hockey. Players. With big butts. In their beds. On the couch. In their homes. Also in hotels.,” instantly establishes the evening’s tone: shameless, self-aware, and riotously funny.
The genius of the Susans is that they do not merely narrate the story; they embody the phenomenon surrounding it. MarcAurele understands that Heated Rivalry is not simply a television show but a fandom, and the musical derives much of its comic energy from affectionately skewering the culture that has sprung up around it. The audience becomes part of the joke, addressed repeatedly as fellow Susans, co-conspirators in a shared fixation. What could have been mocking instead feels warmly inclusive. The production laughs with its audience, not at it.
At the center of the madness are two performances that elevate the evening far beyond spoof. Jimin Moon’s Shane Hollander radiates sunshine. His Shane is sweet, earnest, adorably bewildered by his own emotions, and possessed of the sort of guileless charm that makes every romantic complication feel freshly devastating. Opposite him, Jay Armstrong Johnson gives a superb comic performance as the brooding Russian star Ilya Rozanov. Johnson captures the character’s intimidating exterior and emotional fragility while mining every possible laugh from Ilya’s perpetual struggle to process feelings. Together, they achieve something remarkable: they make the romance matter.
That emotional investment is what separates Heated Rivalry from lesser parodies. The jokes land because the performers never play them merely as jokes. Moon and Johnson commit fully to the emotional reality beneath the absurdity. When Ilya laments the burden of his legendary backside in the hilariously earnest power ballad “Big Ass, Cold Heart,” Johnson somehow transforms what should be a throwaway gag into a sincere cry of loneliness. Likewise, Moon delivers “This Fuck Was Different” with such heartfelt conviction that the audience finds itself laughing and unexpectedly moved at the same time. Few performers could navigate such tonal whiplash. These two make it look effortless.
MarcAurele’s score proves equally impressive. The songs are not merely vehicles for punchlines, though the punchlines arrive with machine-gun regularity. They are smartly structured musical-theater numbers with memorable hooks and a surprisingly sophisticated understanding of character. Titles such as “Shane Hollander, Slap That Stick!,” “Eye-Fucking at the Hotel Gym,” “I Can Host,” and “This Fuck Was Different” suggest gleeful vulgarity, but beneath the irreverence lies craftsmanship. One leaves the theater wishing for a cast recording and suspecting several of these tunes will remain lodged in memory for days.
The supporting cast performs feats of comic athleticism nearly as impressive as anything occurring on the fictional hockey rink. Redmond, Torres, and Duncan cycle through an astonishing number of characters, wigs, accents, and costume changes with breathtaking speed. Duncan, in particular, emerges as a comic virtuoso, creating fully realized characters in what sometimes amounts to mere seconds of stage time. Assisted by Brendan McCann’s delightfully ridiculous costumes and intentionally dreadful wigs, the trio transforms every entrance into a fresh opportunity for laughter.
Redmond is a force of nature. Possessing the instincts of a first-rate comedian and the vocal power of a Broadway headliner, she dominates the stage whenever she appears. Her brassy, full-throated belt electrifies the room, cutting through the show's cheerful chaos with exhilarating precision. Whether leading the Susans’ wine-soaked commentary or embodying one of the evening’s many supporting characters, Redmond combines impeccable comic timing with a vocal assurance that elevates every number she touches. She is the production’s comic engine and one of its most thrilling musical assets.
Director Alan Kliffer embraces the production’s limitations with admirable confidence. Staged on the sixth floor of the former McKittrick Hotel, in a room scarcely larger than the New York Rangers penalty box, the production turns its constraints into virtues. Kliffer keeps the pacing relentless, while Brooke Engen and Tiffany Engen contribute choreography that somehow manages to suggest expansive movement within a remarkably confined playing area. The result feels less like a compromise than a deliberate aesthetic choice, one perfectly suited to the show's homemade charm.
That charm is further amplified by Sully Ross’s knowingly ramshackle scenic design, Devin Cameron’s energetic lighting, and Germán Martinez’s sound design. Nothing here strives for realism, although every gay man in the audience can spot that jockstrap hanging pre-show on the locker door from 20 paces. Instead, the production adopts an almost defiantly theatrical artificiality that recalls the early downtown spirit of cult sensations like Titaníque. Puppets stand in for athletic feats. Cardboard ingenuity substitutes for expensive spectacle. The entire enterprise seems held together by enthusiasm, talent, and sheer force of will—and that proves more than enough.
What ultimately makes Heated Rivalry: The Unauthorized Musical Parody so winning is the affection pulsing beneath every joke. MarcAurele and Kliffer clearly understand why audiences fell in love with Shane and Ilya in the first place. The parody never seeks to diminish its source material; it celebrates it while simultaneously exposing its delightful absurdities. The result is both satire and valentine, roast and tribute.
By the final moments—culminating in a visual punchline so perfectly timed that it nearly brings down the house—the achievement becomes undeniable. What began as a niche parody has blossomed into one of the season’s most purely enjoyable evenings in the theater. It is hilarious, inventive, infectiously good-natured, and unexpectedly heartfelt. Like the romance at its center, Heated Rivalry: The Unauthorized Musical Parody succeeds because it refuses to choose between sincerity and comedy. It delivers both in abundance. Fans will leave ecstatic. Newcomers may find themselves converted. Either way, the score is a decisive victory.
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Review by Tony Marinelli.
Published by Theatre Beyond Broadway on June 7, 2026. All rights reserved.
