A new city, a new school, and divorcing parents would be enough to drive any ten-year-old into a tailspin. But when Mom is in bed coping with depression, Dad is out schtupping every woman in town, Nana’s sloshing down Manhattans, and your big sister refuses to acknowledge you in public, the odds are even higher that you’ll crash. Add to that chronic bedwetting, and this kid is bound for trouble.
Sarah Silverman endured all of it. Fortunately, she had the artistic brilliance to spin her childhood crises into comic gold. Arena Stage’s new production of The Bedwetter, based on Silverman’s hilarious memoir The Bedwetter: Stories of Courage, Redemption, and Pee, is a wonderfully funny, touching beam of sunshine in a capital city that urgently needs some levity right now.
Originally produced by New York’s Atlantic Theater in 2022, the Arena version, again directed by Anne Kauffman, zings along with high-end energy propelled by an exceptional cast, excellent staging, and songs that drive the plot forward with humor, nuance, and tenderness.
The imp-like, irresistible Aria Kane as Sarah introduces herself at her new school (“Hi, My Name Is Sarah”) with a riptide of verboten language that passed for ordinary discourse at home. (On opening night, one could only wish she had been better miked so we could make out every risqué word.) Shamed by her teacher Mrs. Dembo (Alysha Umphress) and instantly reviled by her cliquish fifth-grade classmates, Sarah stands apart — carelessly dressed, potty-mouthed and undeniably “Jew-y.” Finally, she gains probational status among the “in-girls” — Abby (Emerson Holt Lacayo), Amy (Elin Joy Seiler), and Ally (Alina Santos) — only to be cast out again when they discover her shameful secret.
Several addled adults flutter around Sarah, trying to help but limited by their own problems. Her dad, Donald (a terrific Darren Goldstein), traffics in cheap, off-brand ladies’ clothing that he peddles with the practiced sleaze of a used-car salesman. His “In My Line of Work” gives a wink and a nod to the range of services he provides to his female clients. Donald is also a sweet, oafish father who sends Sarah first to a clueless hypnotist and then to a deranged doctor (both played by Rick Crom) who prescribes massive doses of Xanax. Terrific projections and a bevy of gigantic, dancing pills illustrate Sarah’s plummet into a medical abyss.
Shoshana Bean, as Sarah’s mom, Beth Ann, nearly steals the show from the confines of her bed. Hopelessly imprisoned by depression, she gathers Sarah and her sister Laura (Avery Harris) into an embrace, proclaiming that she will be “There for You” even if she might never rouse herself to attend a school event. Bean’s voice, bright as a laser and smooth as butter, evinces both love and sadness that’s truly heartbreaking.
Elegant whiskey-soaked Nana (Liz Larsen) embraces Sarah yet acknowledges that this unusual child is a granddaughter that only a grandma could love (“To Me”). Underneath Nana’s wry persona, however, is a family tragedy she has clearly tried to drown.
It’s the near-mythic Miss New Hampshire (Ashley Blanchet) — a Miss America wannabe — who provides the crucial breakthrough for Sarah by admitting on national TV that she, too, once had a nighttime problem.
Set designer David Korins starts this show with a stark backdrop of what looks like corrugated cardboard panels. What could emerge from that, we wonder. As it turns out, a lot. Waiting rooms, classrooms, school lockers, Beth Ann’s ruffled bedroom, and more rush out on wheels, transforming Sarah’s childhood settings during fast-paced vignettes. Lighting designer Japhy Weideman complements Sarah’s world with colors ranging from warm Crayola hues to the ghoulish tones that dance through Sarah’s frightful skirmishes with modern medicine. Kay Voyce’s spot-on costumes usher us back to the ’80s, and video designer Lucy Mackinnon resurrects cartoons and late-night TV staples of Sarah’s youth to great effect.
The Bedwetter treats a ten-year-old’s emotional life with care and complexity. Not quite pre-teen but clearly not a little girl anymore, Sarah yearns for her more carefree days — like last year, maybe. “When I Was Nine,” sung beautifully by father and daughter, looks back to less complicated times. At its best, growing up is fraught with pitfalls. Sarah’s circumstances make it insanely challenging. Yet, with signature wit, she climbs out of a dark place, taking everyone around her on a journey of self-discovery and self-acceptance.
As Washington reels from political and cultural havoc, Silverman’s hilarious and poignant recollection of her own childhood reminds us that exclusion sucks and accessibility counts. The Bedwetter could not have landed in Washington at a more opportune time.
Running Time: One hour 40 minutes with no intermission.
Sarah Silverman’s The Bedwetter – A New Musical plays through March 16, 2025, in the Kreeger Theater at Arena Stage, 1101 6th Street SW, Washington, DC. Tickets ($69–$149) may be obtained online, by phone at 202-488-3300, or in person at the Sales Office (Tuesday-Sunday, 12-8 p.m.). Arena Stage offers savings programs including “pay your age” tickets for those aged 35 and under, student discounts, and “Southwest Nights” for those living and working in the District’s Southwest neighborhood. To learn more, visit arenastage.org/savings-programs.
The program for The Bedwetter is downloadable here.
COVID Safety: Arena Stage recommends but does not require that patrons wear facial masks in theaters except in designated mask-required performance (Tuesday, March 11, at 7:30 p.m). For up-to-date information, visit arenastage.org/safety.
Sarah Silverman’s The Bedwetter – A New Musical
Book by Joshua Harmon & Sarah Silverman
Music by Adam Schlesinger
Lyrics by Sarah Silverman & Adam Schlesinger
Additional Music & Lyrics by David Yazbek
Based upon The Bedwetter: Stories of Courage, Redemption, and Pee
Choreographed by Danny Mefford
Directed by Anne Kauffman
By Special Arrangement with Tom Kirdahy and Barry and Fran Weissler
SEE ALSO:
Arena Stage casts Shoshana Bean to lead Sarah Silverman’s ‘The Bedwetter’ (news story, December 16, 2025)