~ Author: Grayson Kilgo
Monday January 12, 2026 – I was seated in the rear orchestra at Carnegie Hall on Monday night for the Orchestra of St. Luke’s concert performance of Oklahoma!. It’s a seat where small details register quickly. You also hear, with unfortunate clarity, when someone’s hearing-aid battery starts noisily dying. For much of the first act, a persistent squeaking pitch had those of us in the back rows exchanging puzzled glances, silently trying to locate the distraction. By intermission the situation had resolved itself, and I could finally stop tuning it out.
The orchestra filled most of the stage, leaving limited space for the cast. That imbalance set the terms of the evening early. The concert was part of Carnegie Hall’s United in Sound: America at 250 Festival. Scripts were in hand, movement was spare, and the ensemble intentionally utilized the entire room. Singers entered from the aisles and from behind the orchestra, working around the players rather than only in front of them. The musicians were dressed in denim and handkerchiefs, and a cowboy hat perched high on the harp’s column, almost overseeing the entire evening.
The overture was played in full under Rob Berman’s direction. It was full and lush, and I realized I had never actually heard this score played in its entirety. The music had time to build, and it was captivating because of it.
Curly’s first entrance stopped me short. Emmett O’Hanlon has a stunning baritone, rich and warm and velvety in texture, and he wielded it with remarkable control. His entrance from the rear of the orchestra, his warm presence carried effortlessly, and it was clear he was suited to carry the role forward through the evening. The effect was immediate and disarming.
Micaela Diamond’s Laurie came from a very different place vocally: precise diction, legit soprano placement, rounded vowels, and a light regional inflection that felt deliberately old-fashioned without tipping into affectation. It gave the character contour rather than mere polish.
Jonathan Christopher’s Jud, by contrast, was all physical presence. His voice carried a slight rasp and a deep fullness, particularly in the upper register, that filled the hall. The menace came from density of tone rather than volume, and it lingered in the space.
With movement kept to a minimum, most performances relied on delivery and timing. Jasmine Amy Rogers was the gleeful exception. Fresh from BOOP! on Broadway, she played Ado Annie with irrepressible charisma. She stood on chairs, flirted playfully with members of the orchestra, and treated the concert format less as a constraint than as a dare. The role demands a scene-stealer, and Rogers delivered.
David Hyde Pierce gave Andrew Carnes a grounded, unshowy presence, and Ana Gasteyer anchored the evening as Aunt Eller. Chase Brock’s choreography was limited by necessity, with Laurey’s dream ballet omitted entirely. But that constraint proved clarifying, forcing the music to carry its emotional weight directly.
During the final reprise of “Oklahoma!” an extended cast of young singers moved into the aisles and sang from multiple points throughout the hall. The effect was joyful and unexpected, though Carnegie’s acoustics made it difficult to fully register; from my seat, I could hear the single soprano line nearest me rather than the full arrangement.
Oklahoma! is not a show that has ever topped my favorites list. Its place in musical theater history is secure, but it has earned its share of criticism: dated sensibilities, racial undertones that sit uneasily with contemporary audiences, a book that stretches thin, characters whose motivations feel sketched rather than examined. None of that changed on Monday night. But stripped of scenic distraction, the concert format made a compelling case for what the show does well.
The architecture of the score came through clearly, and hearing it this way left me newly attentive to its construction and sweep. Voices like O’Hanlon’s and Rogers’s commanded the room. The Orchestra of St. Luke’s trusted Rodgers and Hammerstein enough to let the material stand largely on its own. For all of the show’s well-documented flaws, that trust was rewarded.
Oberon's Glade 