The MAGA Musical Season: A Tongue-in-Cheek Playlist for Trump’s Kennedy Center Cameo

When news broke that a clutch of LES MISÉRABLES actors plan to excuse themselves from the stage on the very night Donald Trump pops into the Kennedy Center, conservative pundits declared the sky was falling—never mind looming trade wars, constitutional contortions or the small matter of a $400 million jet allegedly waiting in Qatar. Suddenly the deepest crisis facing America was the prospect of understudies belting “Do You Hear the People Sing?” at a black-tie fundraiser that tops out at an eye-watering US$2 million a table.

But perhaps this outrage is simply the GOP’s long-deferred meet-cute with musical theatre. Historically, right-wing America treats the arts like brussels sprouts—best ignored unless wrapped in a bacon-like tax break. Yet here they are, huffing about casting choices and threatening boycott hashtags. So, in the spirit of bipartisan showbiz, let’s help Team MAGA curate a season of tuners tailor-made for their worldview. Curtain up!

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THE SOUND OF MUSIC: Trad-Wife Goals in Alpine Minor

A military widower sacks the sensible Baroness for the nanny, whistles commands at his children, and expects said governess to sew couture out of curtains while crooning about caprine husbandry. Maria then fosters family values by marching the brood across a mountain range to dodge brown-shirted border patrol. Swap “Edelweiss” for “USA! USA!” and the parallels write themselves—plus there’s a handy subplot involving a teenager dating an actual Nazi. MAGA merit badge unlocked.

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THE MUSIC MAN: Con, Meet Crowd

Professor Harold Hill breezes into River City flogging a fantastical boys’ band, vilifies the local librarian for stocking “smut”, and stokes panic about moral decay—then pockets the cash. If that’s not a masterclass in populist gas-lighting wrapped in marching-band millinery, what is? Add a few red baseball caps to the “Seventy-Six Trombones” parade and the resemblance becomes tweet-length obvious.

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ANNIE: Billionaires, Bribes and a Dog Named Liberty

Little Orphan Annie escapes a rundown orphanage run by a booze-soaked authoritarian, only to land in the lap of oligarch Oliver Warbucks, who demands the President drop everything to solve his personal adoption drama. There’s overt state-sponsored photo-ops, a hard-working canine mascot, and a plutocrat who throws money at problems until they vanish in a swell of patriotism. Honestly, all that’s missing is a gold-plated elevator.

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OKLAHOMA!: The Open-Carry State Fair

Picture a sun-drenched territory where every farmhand totes a firearm, vigilante justice is considered neighbourly, and the community resolves complex social issues with a rousing auction. Replace the surrey with a monster truck and Rodgers & Hammerstein’s prairie romance becomes the red-state rom-com of dreams. Bonus points for the dream ballet—that’s basically MAGA Twitter after midnight.

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FIDDLER ON THE ROOF: Tradition! (But Make It Suburban)

Tevye rails against changing times, laments his daughters’ progressive marital choices and clings to ancestral dogma while external forces threaten upheaval. Swap Imperial Russia for gated-community America and “If I Were a Rich Man” slides neatly into a Super PAC fundraising email. Cue uproarious shouts of “Fake news!” whenever Motel the tailor talks worker solidarity.

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EVITA: Don’t Cry for Me, Mar-a-Lago

A charismatic outsider barnstorms rallies, seduces the populace with glittering promises and winds up waving from a palace balcony as adoring crowds chant her name. Sure, Eva Perón is left-wing populism in a sequinned gown—but the choreography of cultish adulation is bipartisan. Besides, “Rainbow Tour” would make a cracking campaign playlist once rewritten for Rust Belt state stops.

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Understudies: Heroes in Plain Sight

All this hoopla neatly ignores the industry’s unsung champions: the understudies preparing to leap onstage should the original cast decline a presidential photo-op. These performers memorise every note, dance step and sword-fight cue on the off-chance disaster (or a diplomatic boycott) strikes. They do it for love, not limelight—and they frequently deliver electric, once-in-a-lifetime performances that leave audiences bragging “I was there the night …”.

If the Kennedy Center crowd ends up with alternate talent on the barricades, they might just witness theatrical alchemy—but only if they stop doom-scrolling outrage long enough to applaud.

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The Real Showstopper: Empathy

The essence of theatre is stepping into someone else’s shoes, hearing a different harmony and discovering—often uncomfortably—that every hero is someone else’s antagonist. Should MAGA faithful start filing into auditoriums, arts advocates will hardly complain; the National Endowment for the Arts could use all the ticket sales it can muster after years of budgetary knife-throwing.

So let the curtain rise. Whether patrons arrive wearing flag pins or rainbow boas, the orchestra will strike up the same overture. If even one previously art-averse attendee leaves humming a tune about compassion—or understudies’ grit—then theatre has done its ancient job.

And who knows? Maybe next season they’ll stage HAMILTON and discover the Founding Fathers rapping about the messy realities of democracy. Stranger things have happened on Broadway—just ask anyone who managed to secure a seat for CATS.

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