Promotional "On An Open Fire" graphic retrieved from

‘On An Open Fire’ leaves you cold and confused

B Street Theatre’s latest show, “On An Open Fire,” explores the repercussions of telling your kid that Santa Claus isn’t real.

For the past 20 years, B Street has shown a premiere every winter.

This year’s show was mediocre. The show had a good message about how everyone needs to be cared about. However, there were a couple of flaws, such as how the main character, Liz, went on many long, tedious tangents. Another odd facet of the show was when Dan and Kellie, the parents, performed covers of famous songs, such as “Hit the Road Jack,” by Ray Charles.

The show had a “Christmas Carol”-esque feeling of how the main character switched from caring only about winning to caring about her family. I really liked this realistic aspect of the show because Liz realized no one cared for her anymore following ruined relationships. I also really enjoyed the happy ending. After all, it’s the holiday season, and no one wants to be sad at the merriest time of the year. The play also emphasizes self-reflection and altruism over selfishness, which added another edge to the great message.

Alex, a teacher at the school of Dan and Kellie’s son, Maxie, was my favorite character. He and his pet hamster on his shoulder added a comedic element to the show. It was really funny when he lost the hamster and searched the house trying to find it, calling out its name, John Winston.

However, the multiple songs the characters sing got annoying after a while. Most of them take place when Dan and Kellie come home drunk and sing a bunch of different songs related to something Liz said. For example, they sang part of “Hit The Road Jack” because Liz had said, “Bye, I’m  gonna hit the road.” This was witty and entertaining the first couple of times, but it got a bit old after the fifth or sixth song. They’re talented singers, but the songs seemed out of place in the show.

Overall, “On An Open Fire” definitely wasn’t the best play, but it also wasn’t the worst.


By Dylan Margolis

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