Jonah Smith, Cassie Edlund, Benni Siglin, Lexi Johnson, and Erik Haering Photo by Dan Norman

But the show barrels right into an after-life holding station that resembles a carnival, where a fortune-telling machine–the kind found in any pinball arcade or shooting gallery in the 1950s and '60s, with a mechanical swami encased in a phone-booth sized glass box, head wrapped in a turban, dispensing cornball fortunes for a mere quarter–issues instructions to the new arrivals.

The swami, a female called The Great Cassandra (other productions of Ride the Cyclone have had a male swami called The Great Karnak) has been programmed for family fun, so a game is in order. The rules are that one of the deceased chorus members will win the chance to return to their life. This sets off a contest where each of the five "contestants" reveals their inner self (as testimony for why they deserve to win).

But wait, here comes a sixth contestant, a headless girl called Jane Doe. None of the other kids know her, and since she was beheaded in the roller coaster fall, she has no memory of who she is either. The only reason the others think she must have been in the choir is that she wears the same uniform–plaid school skirt and white blouse–as the other choir girls. We actually meet Jane Doe first, at the very top of Ride the Cyclone, when she delivers an eerie opening number, "Dream of Life," that makes little sense until you understand her situation.

Wow, who thinks these things up? In this case, the responsible parties are Jacob Richmond and Brooke Maxwell, who together provided the book, music, and lyrics for Ride the Cyclone. Lyric Arts has given the show a terrific production, directed by Marci Lucht, that mines all the humor, wit, and warmth the show's creators have embellished on this unlikely project. By the end of the evening, we are amazed to find that this gruesome premise is grist for a tuneful and hilarious entertainment.

Lucht builds a tight ensemble of the six deceased young people, very much alive on stage, abetted by a super on-stage band directed by Laura Long and Madi Nelson's impressive choreography, creating full-bore dance numbers with a cast of six (well, seven, but Cassandra never leaves her glass box). After Jane Doe's curious opening, the show moves into gear as the ensemble depicts the accident in "Uranium/Minor Turn." Marvelous staging is synchronized with projected video footage from the perspective of a roller coaster car. Michaela Lochen is projection designer and Ian Pirner is videographer: their combined work–being hard to tell when one leaves off and the other begins–is terrific throughout.

The six students are each given an introduction, with musical accompaniment, by Cassandra. First up is Ocean O'Connell Rosenberg (Lexi Johnson, pitch-perfect), the self-appointed leader of the group who expects that, given her top grade-point average, position as class president, numerous extra-curricular achievements, and such, she is obviously the one who most deserves to have her life go on ("What the World Needs"), but a sudden change in the rules has her running scared ("I Love You Guys").

Next up is Noel Gruber (Benni Siglin, with abundant charm), who declares himself to be the only homosexual in his school and explodes with emotion and talent as his dream alter-ego, a sultry femme fatale modeled after Marlene Dietrich. "Noel's Lament" becomes the occasion for one of the show's biggest outpourings of dance and panache with a giddy musical number. After Noel, Ukrainian-Canadian student Mischa Bachinski (Jonah Smith, awash with charism) reveals his two faces, one as a gangsta-styled rapper ("This Song is Awesome") and the other as a hopeless romantic ("Talia"). There is more great dance work, drawing on rap moves and Ukrainian folk motifs, a combination that bears fantastic results.

Ricky Potts (Erik Haering, highly engaging) was mute in life, but able to verbalize in the afterlife. He reveals an imaginary identity through which he not only speaks, but has his choice of the ladies ("Space Age Bachelor Man"), with more strong dancing. (In earlier productions of Ride the Cyclone, Ricky had a disability that limited his mobility, but that was changed in a 2023 revision to the licensed script.) Kaoru Shoji, with a quiet demeanor and beautiful soprano voice, presents Jane Doe's sorrowful case, with no memory of anything about her life, not even her birthday, in "The Ballad of Jane Doe."

The last of the students to put forth her story is Constance Blackwood (Cassie Edlund, the show's emotional center, who soared in the lead of Lyric Arts' Sister Act). She breaks free of her role as Ocean's self-abasing acolyte to find strength and beauty in herself ("Jawbreaker") and in the life she leaves behind ("Sugar Cloud"). DeZhané Antoinette, as Cassandra, coolly delivers flippant directions and arbitrary change-ups in the rules of the game, with jerky, mechanized motions and a snarky attitude toward the students.

Everyone has had their say, and Cassandra calls on them to vote. Once the choice is made, the students join in a life-affirming "It's Not a Game/It's Just a Ride." Yes, a show about teenagers flung to their death from a roller coaster ends up as a moving affirmation of life.

The book is very funny, while capturing the mix of angst and posturing of 17-year-olds trying to define themselves as they stand at the threshold of life–or in this case, afterlife. The songs, while not destined for the Great American Songbook, effectively and tunefully reveal each of the show's characters with melody and wit, and in the end, find a unifying sentiment that sends us out of the theater feeling uplifted.

Cory Skold has designed an effective set that wraps the proscenium in the treacherous roller coaster tracks. Sarah Christenson's costume designs show different facets of the students' lives (real and imagined) with wit and flair. Shannon Elliot's lighting design adds to the effective presentation of the calamitous accident at the start of the show and continuously alters the atmosphere on stage to complement each student's presentation.

Ride the Cyclone came to life in 2009 at Metro Studio Theatre in Victoria, British Columbia. That launch was soon followed by a production in Toronto and a tour of western Canada. The U.S. premiere was a limited engagement in Chicago, in 2015, followed by a limited Off-Broadway engagement in 2016. Since then, it has had numerous regional productions. Its first run in the Twin Cities was mounted by Jungle Theatre in 2019. Last year, fifteen years after its birth, it had its premiere in London. This "little show that could" has been chugging along, winning over fans wherever it lands.

That should certainly be true for anyone who makes it to Lyric Arts to catch Ride the Cyclone's latest iteration. The show is staged with gusto and a unified sense of purpose, brought to life by talented actors who sing, dance, and create characters with flourish. I will be keeping an eye out to see what's next for each of these talented performers.

Ride the Cyclone runs through February 8, 2026, at Lyric Arts Main Street Stage, 420 East Main Street, Anoka MN. For tickets and information, please call 763-422-1838 or visit lyricarts.org.

Book, Music, and Lyrics: Jacob Richmond and Brooke Maxwell; Director: Marci Lucht; Choreography: Madi Nelson; Music Director: Laura Long; Scenic Design: Cory Skold; Costume Design: Sarah Christenson; Lighting Design: Shannon Elliott; Sound Design: Paul Estby; Props Design: Ren Edson; Projections Design: Michaela Lochen; Videographer: Ian Pirner; Fight Director: Madeline Achen; Intimacy Choreography: Alli St. John; Dialect Coach: Gillian Constable; Stage Manager: Emily Ludewig; Assistant Stage Manager: Maddie Ronning.

Cast: Dezhané Antoinette (The Great Cassandra), Cassie Edlund (Constance Blackwood), Erik Haering (Ricky Potts), Lexi Johnson (Ocean O'Connell Rosenberg), Kaoru Shoji (Jane Doe), Benni Siglin (Noel Gruber), Jonah Smith (Mischa Bachinski).