Review: The Bengsons sing of a pregnant pause in My Joy Is Heavy ()

"My Joy Is Heavy looks back at the Covid pandemic of 2020, when she 'was one of the lucky ones who spent lockdown in their terrifying, untouched childhood bedroom.' One of the small plants, she says, represents the people who died during that time; the other represents those who were born. If this gesture is slightly precious, it is nonetheless apt in a production that asks its audience to hold and consider life and death in tandem."

"'It's an old house,' Abigail says of her mother's modest place in Vermont. 'This house was built at a time when people gave birth and died at home.' Lee Jellinek's set provides a deconstructed version of it: wooden platforms, a futon, a keyboard, a kitchen table crowded with pills and honey, a section in back for the six-piece band, a staircase going nowhere just for show."

"Although Louie can be a handful-in one hilariously gross story, his snowsuit runneth over as he sits on Santa's sleigh-they decide to try for a second child, which proves to be a challenge. 'I grew up Christian with all that abstinence education stuff,' Shaun sings. 'And I really thought that if I just blew on a girl she'd catch a case of the babies.'"

My Joy Is Heavy is an autobiographical musical by Abigail and Shaun Bengson that revisits their Covid-19 lockdown experience. Abigail spent the pandemic in her childhood bedroom in Vermont, while the couple navigated parenthood with their three-year-old son, Louie, and attempted to conceive a second child. The production uses symbolic gestures, including potted plants representing those who died and were born during the pandemic, to invite audiences to contemplate life and death simultaneously. Lee Jellinek's deconstructed set recreates Abigail's mother's modest house, featuring platforms, a futon, keyboard, and kitchen table. The musical blends personal storytelling with humor and vulnerability, examining themes of faith, fertility challenges, and family dynamics during an unprecedented global crisis.

Read at Time Out New York