CLINTON — Broadway may have Matilda, but Clinton’s got something better: a sold-out house, a stage full of astonishingly talented kids, and a standing ovation that shook the rafters. Southwest Playhouse’s summer youth production of Matilda the Musical didn’t just meet expectations—it leapt over them like a girl with a library card and a streak of righteous rebellion.
Directed with vision and restraint, this Matilda let the performances shine. The set was modest but incredibly clever— a minimalistic playground of imagination, allowing each scene to unfold fluidly while giving the young cast plenty of room to work their theatrical magic. Its smart use of space and adaptability made even scene changes feel like part of the show.
With the Playhouse’s unique in-the-round layout—originally a livestock sale barn turned black-box style theatre—the action unfolded mere feet from the audience. Sitting on the second row, I watched one young ensemble member, pigtails swinging, sing with such heartfelt emotion that her eyes closed and her whole body followed the song. In the final act, as Miss Trunchbull glared from center stage, this young actress—barely visible to more than a few of us—was in the far corner, acting with every fiber of her being. It was the kind of moment you never forget.
Leading the charge was Amelia Harden as Matilda, whose poise, clarity, and emotional intelligence were far beyond her years. With monologue after monologue—each more demanding than the last—Harden never missed a beat. Her timing was razor sharp, her presence magnetic, and her voice unwavering. If you didn’t know better, you’d think she’d been performing for years in the West End.
But Harden didn’t carry the show alone. Matilda’s parents— played with delicious comic chaos—very nearly stole the spotlight. The actress portraying Mrs. Wormwood brought down the house with every exaggerated flourish and accent-drenched insult, channeling a glam-trash energy that felt like Peg Bundy with a London twang and a spray tan three shades too deep. Her timing was impeccable, her physicality flawless, and her costume—pure brilliance in leopard print and sequins— completed the transformation.
Meanwhile, Mr. Wormwood— equal parts sleazy, clueless, and crowd-pleasing— anchored the family dynamic with sly wit and excellent pacing. Polyester leisure suits have rarely felt so alive. His brief moments of audience interaction only heightened the fun, reminding us how powerful live performance can be.
As the gentle and generous Miss Honey, Lily Adkinson radiated authenticity. Her quiet strength and softness gave the production its emotional grounding, and by the time she reached the final scenes— especially the duet about her humble home—there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. She didn’t play a teacher. She became one.
Balancing that grace was the thunderous energy of Emily DeVaughan as Miss Trunchbull. With every stomp and snarl, she embodied menace wrapped in satire, convincing the “maggots” of her classroom— and the audience— that she ruled with an iron fist and a twisted sense of humor. Her comic timing hit its mark again and again, all while marching across the stage with the force of a freight train. If her knees don’t need ice packs after this run, it’s a miracle.
Then came Bruce. Oh, Bruce. Played by Christian Hensley, after demolishing a towering chocolate cake, this young star leapt atop his desk and belted out a number like he’d just been cast in the finale of A Star Is Born. It was powerful, defiant, and completely unexpected. He brought the house down.
Lavender, played by Huyler Christensen, brought a jolt of charm and mischief to every scene she entered. Her line delivery was sharp, her comedic instincts natural—and when asked after the show whether the role fit her personality, she admitted with a grin, “Except for the accent, I have a lot of moments like that at home.” Believe it.
The ensemble? Huge. Young. Fearless. One boy, sporting a mullet that curled with attitude, gave every scene extra flavor. Another switched costumes five times throughout the show, a feat of timing and stamina worthy of applause. They filled the stage with movement and color, delivering choreography that was tight, songs that were crisp, and accents that—while varied—never distracted from the charm. The transitions were smooth, the pacing brisk, and the energy never dipped.
Costumes across the board were excellent—from gym wear worthy of a Rocky training montage to school uniforms and sequins that captured the show’s comic contrast. Every character was instantly recognizable, and the wardrobe brought extra layers of personality to every scene.
Technically, the production was impressively tight. Word around the cast is that most of the lighting and sound were run by kids—and you’d never know it if they didn’t tell you. Spots, floods, and accent lighting carried the audience’s eye exactly where it needed to be. Subtle backlighting and cue-perfect fades made the show flow like a professional touring production. The lighting crew did such a phenomenal job... you didn’t notice them. And that’s the highest compliment you can give.
What made this production so impressive wasn’t just the execution—it was the intent. These young actors weren’t mimicking a script. They were inhabiting characters, telling a story, and inviting the audience along for the ride. And judging by the thunderous applause, every adult in that audience left believing in a little bit of magic again.
Clinton’s Matilda is more than a summer camp show. It’s a full-hearted, high-energy spectacle—performed by a cast that clearly gave it their all. And in a world that often underestimates what kids are capable of, this ensemble didn’t just rise to the challenge. They rewrote the ending.
