On Saturday, May 2, Arts Editor Emma Chung and Staff Writer Jaimin Lim attended Once on a Blue Moon, Columbia’s 132nd annual Varsity Show. This year’s production was directed by Wren Pfetcher (BC ‘27) and written by Kennedy Eagleton (CC ‘27) and HeeJee Yoon (CC ‘27).

It’s no secret that Columbia lacks school spirit. Especially under an administration widely criticized as unresponsive and uncaring, Columbians often struggle to find a place where they belong and are welcomed. As the school continues to struggle with the aftermath of Trump’s attacks and disillusionment from its student body, this year’s Varsity Show centered this lack of community on campus, pitching a familiar if touching resolution that was literally out of this world.

The play opens with a vibrant ensemble number satirizing the freshman overenrollment: ever since the massive Class of 2029 arrived with its “15,000 freshmen,” everywhere in Columbia is crowded, from the dining halls to the libraries to the student housing. Here, credit goes to choreographer Breanna Ellison (CC ‘26) for her expressive and dynamic dances, which were on full display in this rousing introduction.

We are soon introduced to Concrete “Connie,” a student senator who laments that she cannot do anything about this issue. Played by a standout Ariana Neal (CC ‘26), Connie struggles to make student voices heard as the trustees block any form of student involvement. Her roommate is Socrates “Socks” (Luca Tuana i Guitart, CC ‘27), whom we meet trying to transfer out of Columbia. As best friends and foils, Socks and Connie ground the show’s emotional stakes in the tension between their opposing perspectives: while Socks claims that an apathetic and overcrowded school isn’t worth staying for, Connie believes passionately in change.

The show continues its critique of school mismanagement by introducing a class called Humanities Humanities. Also known as Hum Hum, this class combines all of the Core’s Humanities courses in an attempt to deal with packed waitlists. In a light jab at the Core, Hum Hum instructor Professor Hart (Kai Joseph, CC ‘26) sings a monologue about how the ideas of various thinkers all make sense of each other, assuring the students that everyone is welcome in the humanities. The idea of Hum Hum is timely and witty, touching upon Columbia’s opposing commitments as a liberal arts school vs an institution in crisis. Yet in only giving Hum Hum a passing thought, the show misses an opportunity to address the damage inflicted on Columbia’s liberal arts ethos and not just its impact on student experience.

After Professor Hart finishes, the students start introducing themselves, filling out an endearing ensemble: Pumpkin (Josh Chang, CC ‘29) is an awkward first-year international student with a ChatGPT addiction, Taylor (Jaden Natividad, CC ‘28) is a deadpan SEAS student who is building noise-canceling eyemasks, Cree (Gaia Di Mitri, CC ‘27) is a fiery Barnard liberal who loves British rap and sits on the Bacchanal e-board, and Grant (Anoushka Sharma, BC ‘27) is a legacy economics major “on the pre-wealth track.”

The class then watches a livestream by acting president Claire Shipman (Ana Huesa, CC ‘26), who is in full-blown streamer mode. Acting as submissive parental figures, Trustee #1 (Elsa Rose McIntyre Córdoba, BC ‘28) and Trustee #2 (Hannah Levinson, BC ‘28) hover beside Shipman as she talks to her virtual audience. When a commenter asks whether she actually has a plan to create more space on campus, Shipman does some quick thinking: Columbia will expand to the moon, not only solving their crowding issue but campus-mogging the other Ivies to boot. Although this premise is a relatively simple play on the word “space,” it sets up a rousing adventure cheap on plot logic but rich in whimsy and wit.

Naturally, Connie is initially furious that Shipman made such a bombastic decision without confronting the senate. Yet Socks convinces her to spearhead the moon campus plan, saying that this is her opportunity to center student voices—he also jumps at the opportunity to study in space. Although Connie tries to make him stay, Socks says he’s tired of waiting for change and hopes to find someplace to belong. In a show highlight, he expresses his desire to leave in the ballad “Moon Over Manhattan,” channeling classic Broadway with a twist of longing jazz and Columbia grievance. Credit here also belongs to set designer Matthias Pridgeon (CC ‘29), lighting designer Alina Pucci (BC ‘27), and assistant set designer Lina Kim (CC ‘29) for the gorgeous backdrop of Manhattan and the vivid twilight sky spread behind Socks’s bedroom.

After a complete lack of student interest in the moon campus, Shipman takes matters into her own hands by deciding to send away all the “losers,” or those no one will miss. Connie pleads with Shipman to stop, but the acting president powers on. In her rush to get the kids out of New York City, she even has the engineers use John Jay fans to power the rocket ship instead of an actual engine. It is at this moment that Shipman and Connie realize that they have no way to bring the students back to Earth without an engine. Yet Shipman sends them off regardless. Act I ends with the chosen students launching off to space in an exhilarating count-down sequence, unaware that they have no way of coming back home.

Throughout its first act, the show buzzes with witty references to campus culture, including a plethora of Fakemink disses and a joke about Hartley Hall, which is “under permanent temporary renovation.” Niche comedic visuals include the Hum Hum crew infiltrating Hartley by pretending to be toddlers, walking in a line and donning bright orange vests. The audience erupted with laughter at such a distinctly Columbian joke, reflecting the show’s deftness at understanding our school’s culture.

Yet when it came to the satire, especially on streamer bro Shipman, the show repeats itself a bit. Blue Moon consistently takes jabs at the acting president’s incompetence and irreverence, yet it fails to critique the president beyond displaying how much she doesn’t care. The first half also felt slightly bloated with the story of Shipman carelessly launching the space initiative. Ironically for a show about the lack of student voices, reserving so much time for the acting president partially limited the development of the student characters.

Even then, Act II wrangles the show’s moving parts into a stirring close. While Connie tries to drum up awareness of the moon campus plight, the trustees advise Shipman to simply wait her out as fatigue and desperation dissolve any dissent. Meanwhile, the students sent to space land on the moon and find a musty, dusty campus. After repeatedly tapping a hilariously sensual mail center, the students receive highly redacted letters that tip them off to something being wrong. The moon crew then begins quarreling after they realize that they were sent to space because they were all “losers.” Yet Socks intervenes, encouraging everyone to band together because they only have each other now. Although his arc from skeptic to leader felt slightly rushed, Socks still shone as one of the show’s most fleshed-out and memorable characters.

Back on Earth, Grant, Connie, and Taylor join forces with Professor Hart and Pumpkin’s mom (Elsa Rose McIntyre Córdoba, BC ‘28) to bring the moon crew back to earth. Professor Hart and Pumpkin’s mom reveal they have been sending pieces of an engine to the moon using melted parts of Dodge equipment, but they haven’t been able to contact the students in space. In an attempt to bypass the censorship, Professor Hart sends up a message about the engine coded with Hum Hum references.

Back in space, the students have a meeting to talk about how they’ve grown over the semester: Pumpkin announces he canceled his ChatGPT subscription, and Cree reveals that she has learned to take action instead of writing manifestos. Their time on the moon has bonded them into a tight-knit community and helped them heal in unexpected ways. In this way, Blue Moon slyly suggests that perhaps some space was precisely what they needed, despite the far-fetched idea of launching an intergalactic campus.

Suddenly, the moon crew realizes that they are set to leave the next day but have no way to return. They coincidentally discover the coded letter sent by the students on Earth, and they decode its contents thanks to Cree’s expertise as a Bacchanal clue-giver. Upon reading the letter, they realize they need to build an engine and have been given all the parts. Some of the students are reluctant to leave, scared they’ll be losers again on Earth. Yet Pumpkin and Cree assure them that people do miss them and that they should take back what they learned to Earth. So, aboard the Waka Flocka Flame rocket, the space students return to Earth. In an especially touching moment, Connie and Socks embrace after the semester apart, reconciling their opposing beliefs in whether Columbia is a place worth staying for. In one last confrontation with Shipman, all the students surround and support Connie in a heart-warming ode to their makeshift community.

Overall, the plot’s resolution was a bit rushed. We never see how the students in space become more comfortable with themselves and their peers, and it isn’t entirely clear how the administration has changed by the end. In that way, Blue Moon skips over part of the messy process of community-building that Columbia seems slightly confounded by.

However, the show still charmed and delighted with its winsome characters and keen wit, ending with a beautiful reprise of “Moon Over Manhattan.” Doing its very best to balance satire and sincerity, Blue Moon filled almost every moment with a punny joke while still highlighting the many injustices of Columbia’s administration. It also grounded us in a pair of sweet characters played with charm. Composer Max Kleban (CC ‘27) deserves credit for a spirited and infectious jazz score, while clever lyrics by Anna Steel (CC ‘27) skilfully moved the plot forward and fleshed out characters.

While the show does pick out many of Columbia’s flaws, we couldn’t help but feel a surge of school spirit by the finale. The Varsity Show was a magnificent riff on a complicated year.

Image via Authors