The Musical (2026) Movie Review: A Spiteful Teacher's Revenge Comedy That Hits More Than It Misses

The Musical marks the feature directorial debut of Giselle Bonilla, expanded from her AFI Conservatory short film into a brazenly irreverent comedy that premiered at the 2026 Sundance Film Festival on January 25. Written by Alexander Heller and produced by Megamix, Unapologetic Projects, and Sequel, this 87-minute film stars Will Brill as Doug Leibowitz, a frustrated middle school theater teacher who discovers his ex-girlfriend Abigail, played by Gillian Jacobs, has started dating the school's principal, portrayed by Rob Lowe.

Motivated by spite and professional disappointment after being rejected from a prestigious playwriting fellowship, Doug decides to sabotage Principal Brady's quest for the coveted Blue Ribbon of Academic Excellence by replacing his wholesome production of West Side Story with an original musical about September 11th. The film represents Bonilla's attempt to satirize contemporary education culture, representation politics, and cancel culture anxieties through the lens of one man's petty revenge scheme, though whether it succeeds in balancing its many tonal ambitions remains a point of significant debate among those who've experienced its provocative premise.

Story and Screenplay: Sharp Misanthropy Meets Muddled Satire

Heller's screenplay operates from an inspired comic premise that initially presents Doug as adorably clumsy and naive, believing he can reconcile with Abigail after their secret relationship goes on indefinite break. The narrative efficiently establishes multiple dominoes that will topple Doug from sympathetic dumpee into spiteful antihero: first discovering Abigail has moved on with their boss, then receiving his fellowship rejection, and finally being confronted by an over-eager Latina student named Lara who protests his decision to cast a Caucasian classmate as Maria in West Side Story. Doug's response, snapping "Are you even Puerto Rican?", signals the film's willingness to venture into uncomfortable territory.

The central conceit transforms Doug's anger into artistic inspiration, channeling his rage into staging an original play titled "The Heroes" about the September 11th terrorist attacks. The screenplay cleverly positions this as both creative passion project and ultimate act of professional sabotage, keeping Principal Brady completely unaware while the middle schoolers, who have no personal context for the tragedy, buy into maintaining secrecy. The script mines considerable humor from Doug's manipulation, particularly when he shows students The Manchurian Candidate as part of his indoctrination campaign.

Where the screenplay succeeds is in its unapologetically jaundiced approach to good old-fashioned misanthropy. Doug emerges as both recklessly horrible and strangely, sadly heroic in his determination to stick it to one particular man. Heller permits his protagonist to be genuinely awful, repackaging his personal frustrations as teachable moments and treating students largely as means to his vindictive ends.

However, the script suffers from a dated quality that makes its satirical targets feel imported from a cultural era long past. The attempts at skewering woke culture, diversity initiatives, and cancel culture anxieties land with acrid bitterness rather than sharp wit, suggesting Heller arrived a few years too late to these punchlines. The screenplay barely engages with anything beyond its own bile, neglecting to provide meaningful insight into why Doug chooses September 11th as his taboo subject beyond it being maximally provocative. The love triangle driving Doug's motivations feels hoary and schematically deployed, with Abigail afforded whatever dimension Doug is willing to give her, which isn't much. The 84-minute runtime plods toward exactly the ending audiences expect, telegraphing jokes 45 minutes in advance.

Acting and Characters: Brill Nails It While Others Struggle

Will Brill delivers a masterful performance in his first real feature leading role, bringing Doug to life with aggressive intensity that makes the character simultaneously repulsive and watchable. Brill's portrayal captures the nervous energy of a man on the edge, transforming what could have been a one-note caricature into something more complex. He makes Doug a bitter, selfish pill while somehow maintaining enough audience investment to carry the film's narrative. The collaboration between Brill and Bonilla elevates Heller's screenplay considerably, with Brill nailing the trajectory from clumsy optimist to nefarious schemer.

However, the aggressive, overstated quality of Brill's performance also presents problems. We can plainly see why Abigail would dump this intense, storm-prone individual who prizes intellect over emotion to his detriment. The character's appeal relies heavily on audiences finding his awfulness entertaining rather than simply off-putting, and that balance doesn't always hold.

Gillian Jacobs operates as a professional presence who does what she can with underwritten material. Abigail exists primarily as Doug sees her, lacking the dimension to feel like a complete person making comprehensible choices. The script affords her no real agency beyond being the object that motivates Doug's revenge.

Rob Lowe essentially delivers an indie film version of his Parks and Recreation character, playing Principal Brady as grabby, unctuous corporate cringe personified. At 61 years old with a giant Stanley mug and shit-eating smile, Brady represents the perfect kind of awful to help Doug justify being even worse. Lowe commits to making the character objectively punchable, more interested in appeasing liberal sensibilities than educating children, though the characterization feels schematic rather than fully realized.

The young ensemble proves genuinely fantastic overall, particularly Nevada Jose as Little Mickey Gomez, Doug's student assistant director who becomes his most devoted disciple. Jose delivers a winning turn that provides the film's genuine heart, soaking up everything from his mentor despite Doug's questionable methods. The students come to Doug's aid in pulling off the secret show with enthusiasm that recalls Dead Poets Society, though whether this homage lands as parody or sincere sentiment remains unclear. Special mention goes to Aidyn Ahn, whose deadpan facial reactions prove pitch perfect throughout.

Direction and Technical Aspects: Stylistic Evolution and Tonal Command

Bonilla demonstrates impressive formal creativity for a debut feature, particularly notable at a Sundance whose narrative offerings have been sorely lacking in visual innovation. Her direction initially appears middle-of-the-road, establishing what audiences would expect from conventional prestige comedy with framing reminiscent of Working Title productions. However, as Doug's plan unfolds, Bonilla's approach subtly transforms in ways that serve the escalating tension.

The cinematography evolves to shoot Doug like a nefarious character in a Hitchcock thriller, using visual language to externalize his psychological state. Bonilla maintains a strong grasp on the film's many-splendored tone, executing a tricky balancing act that keeps the audience engaged even when individual elements don't fully cohere. The bits that hit are well-supported by her directorial choices, while those that miss are elegantly suffused into the film's cockeyed atmosphere without leaving dead air.

The production design effectively captures the mundane reality of suburban middle school education while allowing room for the absurdist elements. The editing maintains brisk pacing despite the relatively short runtime, though it can't entirely overcome the script's structural predictability.

Where Bonilla adds the most art and energy is in staging the actual musical performance. The images of children dressed as Rudy Giuliani and George W. Bush, complete with enormous fake ears, achieve genuine absurdist comedy through sheer strangeness. The idea of kids born way after September 11th re-enacting those events in pageant form generates uncomfortable laughter that justifies the film's existence.

Music and Atmosphere: From Peppy to Noir

Composer Mateo Nossa's score undergoes a remarkable transformation that mirrors Bonilla's visual approach. What begins as sweet and peppy music appropriate for feel-good teacher comedy gradually references golden age Hollywood thriller aesthetics as Doug's scheme intensifies. The shift proves essential to maintaining audience investment in increasingly dark territory.

The sound design emphasizes Doug's paranoid perspective, with certain scenes featuring enough brassy saxophone to frame Abigail as a deadly femme fatale in Doug's imagination. This noir-inflected approach to scoring a middle school comedy creates tonal whiplash that mostly works in the film's favor, heightening the absurdity while grounding the protagonist's emotional reality.

The overall atmosphere achieves what the script attempts: transforming the prosaic world of suburban education into a locus of noir obsession and operatic machination. Whether this subversion feels novel or dated depends largely on individual viewer tolerance for revisiting familiar satirical territory, but Nossa's musical choices provide elegant support for Bonilla's vision.

Strengths and Weaknesses

What works well:

• Will Brill's masterful leading performance that makes Doug watchable despite being awful
• Nevada Jose's winning turn as Little Mickey Gomez providing genuine heart
• Giselle Bonilla's formal creativity and evolving visual style
• Mateo Nossa's score transformation from peppy comedy to noir thriller
• The young ensemble's enthusiastic, committed performances
• Absurdist comedy of children performing as September 11th historical figures
• Bonilla's strong grasp on maintaining tonal balance
• Moments of sharp misanthropic humor that land effectively
• Brief runtime prevents overstaying welcome

What doesn't work:

• Dated quality to satire that feels several years too late
• Aggressive, overstated quality of Brill's performance can be off-putting
• Underwritten female characters, particularly Gillian Jacobs' Abigail
• Schematic love triangle feels hoary and clunkily deployed
• Acrid approach to woke culture satire lacks nuance
• Predictable narrative trajectory telegraphs jokes in advance
• Muddled construction makes parody indistinguishable from sincerity
• Screenplay barely engages beyond its own bile
• Rob Lowe essentially recycling previous character work
• Lacks meaningful insight into character motivations

Final Verdict: An Acquired Bad Taste Worth Sampling

Rating: 3/5 stars

The Musical represents an uneven but often hilarious dark comedy that succeeds more on the strength of Bonilla's direction and Brill's performance than on the merits of Heller's screenplay. The film works best when embracing pure misanthropic absurdity rather than attempting pointed social satire, with the actual musical performance of "Heroes" delivering undeniable comedy despite arriving exactly when expected. The provocative premise generates legitimate laughs even when the execution feels dated or the targets seem chosen for maximum offense rather than meaningful critique.

This is recommended viewing for audiences who enjoy arch dark comedies exploring the squirmy selfishness of entitled white men channeling resentment into destructive creativity. Fans of Alexander Payne's Election will recognize the spiritual DNA, though this film lacks that predecessor's perspective-shifting power. Those who appreciate seeing young directors attempt formally creative balancing acts should seek out Bonilla's debut despite its flaws. The film rewards viewers willing to embrace its nastiness without requiring moral agreement with Doug's choices.

However, those seeking nuanced satire or meaningful engagement with contemporary culture war topics will likely find the film's approach too acrid and dated. Viewers who need sympathetic protagonists or well-developed female characters should look elsewhere, as the screenplay treats women as plot devices rather than fully realized people. If you're exhausted by entitled white male grievance narratives, The Musical will feel like retreading overly familiar ground. The film's willingness to be provocative doesn't always translate into actual insight, making it refreshing primarily for treating spite as worthy of musical celebration rather than for anything particularly profound it reveals about that impulse.

The Musical ultimately succeeds as an acquired bad taste worth sampling, particularly for those curious about Bonilla's formal creativity and Brill's committed performance. It's the kind of Sundance dark comedy that divides audiences precisely because it refuses to apologize for its protagonist's awfulness while also failing to fully interrogate what that awfulness represents. In an era when we're drowning in conversations about the power of spite, there's something oddly cathartic about watching people sing about it instead, even when the songs themselves arrive from a cultural moment that feels frustratingly behind the times.