Donterrio, Linda Mugleston, Shawn Pfautsch, Grey Henson, Megan Mullally, Melanie Brezill, Will Koski and Andrea San Miguel Photo by Todd Rosenberg

Reiss and Purcell demonstrate incredibly steady hands with the story, something that is particularly noteworthy given that they've grown it from a smaller, simpler funny idea into a show that neither overstays its welcome nor suffers from a weak second act. This is no Fringe show that doesn't have the legs its creators hoped it would. It's thoughtful and well-crafted, repaying every bit of encouragement they apparently received in its earliest incarnation. They use Offerman's take on Eugene O'Neill with surgical precision. Likewise, they lean into the fun of period mannerisms and bits just the right amount and counterbalance these with sharply delivered, well-timed anachronisms. And, of course, they rightly turn Megan Mullally loose.

The story revolves around Vera Vimm, the "poor little orphan girl" who has managed to make good as a Broadway actress, despite being a bit of a one-trick pony. When she learns that an arctic expedition has unearthed a primitive boy encased in ice, she feels drawn to him as an orphan. She cleans out her savings, outbidding millionaires, collectors, and museums, to bring him home. Vera's move throws her inner circle for a loop: Her best friend/housekeeper Lambert worries about finances and her playwright/boyfriend Floyd tries to wrest her attention back to the play Vera is meant to be opening.

Vera's affection for her orphan boy evaporates quickly as he turns out to be a gifted mimic and takes the world by storm. When Vera vows to retire from acting after she's panned for the first time in her career for her performance in Floyd's first serious play, Floyd casts Iceboy and a physical tussle sends Vera out a window and into a coma. She is enraged to find that the world turns on without her and decides to conspire with Eugene O'Neill to bring down Floyd and the rest of her nearest and dearest for their "betrayal."

Hollman's music serves the comedy well (and the orchestrations by Bruce Coughlin, with music direction by Vadim Feichtner), and the decision to have Reiss collaborate on the lyrics was clearly the right one. The songs are smart and the creators are not afraid to let them be varied in style, tone, and length. For example, the opener to Act II is the expected gossipy number that tells us the crowd is mad for Iceboy, but Hollman doesn't feel compelled to work this up into something especially big or overlong, which gets the act off to a brisk start.

Similarly, the comic love duet between Lambert and Iceboy is funny and bawdy while still serving up the requisite sweetness. And not only does it represent a strong Act II song, it offers an interesting counterpoint to the back-and-forth between Floyd and Vera, which is altogether sparser, wearier, and not quite a love duet at all.

Another remarkable aspect of the show is the fact that it doesn't lack for real feeling, either. Although it seemed possible that Act I would turn out to be a bit top heavy in trying to set up too many relationship dynamics, Act II arranges the pieces and conflicts in order, and they get the band back together before the final curtain in a fashion that is certainly believable enough for a completely untrue story.

The production is just stunning as well, starting with the set by Paul Tate dePoo II. He flanks the stage with O'Neill's masculine spaces: a bar downstage left with a single stool and dark wood shelves that rise high and mirror the cramped, desperate "study" downstage right where O'Neill tries to work through his years-long writer's block.

These form a proscenium around the huge, Broadway proscenium that sits further upstage, rimmed with chaser lights. When the scene takes place in Vera's magnificently deco house, a curved arch drops in, functioning as a third proscenium. In this way, the scenic design subtly reminds the audience of the various layers of unreality and the nested nature of the stories we're watching. The convention also functions to create differing levels of intimacy as needed.

Jen Schriever's lighting design brings the glamor and keeps the show briskly paced, without sacrificing the moments where real emotion creeps in. The lighting in the ape enclosure at the zoo, as well as in O'Neill's seedy motel room, is perfectly designed to support the balance between broad comedy and real (if rather demented) passion.

Linda Cho's costumes do great work with the ensemble, shifting them clearly and swiftly from working stiffs (actual and exaggerated for the stage) to generic upper-crust types to specific characters surrounding Vera Vimm when she's still at the top of her game. In choosing flowing trousers and dusters for Vera herself, Cho offers insight into the layers within a character who might well insist that she is nothing but surface.

Watching Megan Mullally in this role is a genuine thrill. This is the perfect nexus of a great show, a great role, and a tremendous talent at the top of her game. Vera is awful, and Mullally lets her be, confident that she can still win the audience and Vera's loved ones over.

Nick Offerman similarly has the crowd in the palm of his hand as a quasi-narrator. With a wink and a sarcastic remark, he doles out just enough details about O'Neill's life to suggest that the man is worthy of at least some sympathy. He undercuts it all with a biting remark, but the pathos lingers. In the "ritual" with Iceboy, Offerman lets the audience's laughter fade away, and he plays the moment straight (no pun intended), which adds sweetness when he repeats it with Vera.

Grey Henson is charming as Jeff the Iceboy. He has a strong voice that he creatively abuses in the service of comedy as Iceboy learns to speak. He also adeptly rides the line between making Iceboy insufferable yet charming, and he steers clear of the usual choice to make such a character simply a lunkhead. JoAnn M. Hunter's choreography shines particularly bright when Henson and Mullally are performing together.

As Floyd, Cedric Yarbrough is a wonderful blend of earnest, ambitious, and practical, and if there's anything to regret in the way the creators have clearly trimmed the show to keep it lean, it's that Floyd is a bit underdeveloped. As Vera's too-patient, decidedly occasional lover, his performance is funny and touching enough that one wants a bit more in terms of his one-sided rivalry with Eugene O'Neill.

Sarah Stiles and Alex Goodrich excel in the off-the-wall roles of Lambert and Frankenstein (later Frankenjames). Lambert's story gets a slow burn that blossoms beautifully into her song, "FM," in which she essentially explains to Jeff the life cycle of a woman who has been tagged as lacking main character energy, particularly in the world of theatre and movies. Goodrich has even longer to wait, as he spends most of the show "frozen" in his Frankenstein audition mode, until his frustration with Vera leads him to tear himself free. His expressiveness as Frankenstein is certainly impressive, but it's also a pleasure to hear him sing and watch him move, however briefly.

The show's ensemble (Donterrio, Melanie Brezill, Will Koski, Linda Mugleston, Shawn Pfautsch, and Andrea San Miguel) fill out both the sound and the visuals admirably. It's great fun to see them step into their real life alter egos, such as Katharine Hepburn, Paul Robeson, and so on.

Iceboy! has been extended through August 16, 2026, at the Goodman Theatre, Albert Theatre, 170 N. Dearborn, Chicago IL. For tickets and information, please visit GoodmanTheatre.org.