The Unlikely Triumph of 'Octet': How a Musical About Internet Addiction Became a Cultural Phenomenon
There’s something deeply ironic about a musical that tackles internet addiction becoming one of the most talked-about shows of the year. Octet, Raven Theatre’s groundbreaking production, has defied all odds—and expectations. Personally, I think what makes this particularly fascinating is how it’s managed to resonate in a world where we’re all, in some way, tethered to our screens. It’s not just a show; it’s a mirror held up to our collective digital malaise.
When I first heard about Octet, I’ll admit I was skeptical. An a cappella musical about eight adults struggling with internet addiction? It sounded like a recipe for either brilliance or disaster. But what many people don’t realize is that the show’s simplicity is its superpower. There’s no orchestra, no flashy sets—just eight voices and a raw, unfiltered exploration of loneliness in the digital age. From my perspective, this stripped-down approach forces the audience to confront their own relationship with technology, and that’s where the magic happens.
One thing that immediately stands out is the show’s ability to capture the absurdity and pain of modern life. From Candy Crush addictions to the existential dread of dating apps, the characters’ struggles feel achingly familiar. What this really suggests is that we’re all grappling with the same questions: How do we connect in a world that feels increasingly disconnected? How do we find meaning when our lives are curated for likes and shares? These aren’t just plot points—they’re the anxieties of our time.
What makes Octet even more remarkable is its journey from Raven Theatre’s intimate 110-seat venue to the Goodman’s larger stage. If you take a step back and think about it, this transition is a metaphor for the show’s message: how do we maintain authenticity and intimacy as we scale up? Jonathan Berry, Raven’s artistic director, nailed it when he said the challenge was preserving the show’s ‘direct contact’ with the audience. In my opinion, this is where the production’s genius lies—it refuses to sacrifice its soul for a bigger audience.
A detail that I find especially interesting is the role of former artistic director Sarah Slight in bridging the gap between Raven and the Goodman. Her move to the Goodman as associate artistic producer feels symbolic of a larger trend in theater: the need for collaboration between smaller, storefront theaters and larger institutions. This raises a deeper question: Can these partnerships help elevate underrepresented voices without diluting their artistic vision? Personally, I think Octet is a case study in how it can be done right.
The show’s success also speaks to the power of timing. In a post-pandemic world where we’re more digitally connected than ever, Octet feels like a cultural gut-check. What many people don’t realize is that the show’s a cappella format isn’t just a stylistic choice—it’s a statement. By stripping away instruments, the focus shifts entirely to the human voice, a reminder of what’s at stake when we lose ourselves in the digital noise.
But here’s the thing: Octet isn’t just a cautionary tale. It’s also a story of hope. The characters, despite their struggles, find solace in each other. They put their phones down and listen. In a world where attention is the new currency, this act of listening feels revolutionary. From my perspective, this is what makes the show so compelling—it doesn’t just diagnose the problem; it offers a way forward.
As Octet continues its run at the Goodman, I can’t help but wonder what its legacy will be. Will it spark a broader conversation about our digital habits? Will it inspire more theaters to take risks on unconventional stories? One thing’s for sure: it’s already proven that great art doesn’t need a traditional formula to succeed. If you take a step back and think about it, that’s the most hopeful message of all.
Final Thought: Octet isn’t just a musical—it’s a cultural Rorschach test. What you see in it says as much about you as it does about the show. And in a world where we’re constantly scrolling, maybe that’s exactly what we need.
