Burned to a Cinder: 'Ring of Fire' at Merrimack Repertory Theatre
Review
Born in 1932 in Kingsland, Arkansas, Johnny Cash remains one of the most recognizable voices in country music, even nearly two decades after his passing. Known for his deep bass-baritone, somber demeanor, and difficult upbringing, Cash infused his songs with themes of redemption, death, life, and love. At Merrimack Repertory Theatre in Lowell, MA, Ring of Fire: The Music of Johnny Cash attempts to tell the story of the Man in Black.
Co-directed by Correy West and Karen Oster, Ring of Fire opens on a set that vaguely evokes the famed Grand Ole Opry. Scenic designer Shelley Barish relies primarily on wood and well-placed mesh screens, the latter cleverly disguising lighting to resemble timber. The result feels spot-on for the story—handsome, functional, and complemented by the old-school clam stage lights dotting the space.
The production begins in total blackout, except for the glow of a classic Zenith radio, which crackles to life before the stage erupts with the full ensemble performing a medley of Johnny Cash hits. Costumed by Amanda Gladu—whose work here is among the best I’ve seen at Merrimack—the cast makes a striking first impression. But it’s also where the issues begin. From the opening number, the sound balance is noticeably off: some vocals are often nearly inaudible beneath the much louder instrumental mix. While many audience members seemed content to tap along, as someone not deeply versed in Cash’s discography, I found myself struggling to follow the songs (Music Director Karen Oster; Sound Designer David Remedios; Sound Engineer, Jason Sliviak).
We’ve all seen the many ways bio-musicals attempt to capture the lives of larger-than-life figures. Some take a reflective approach, like The Cher Show; others focus on a singular moment in time, like MJ the Musical; and still others attempt to swallow the entire elephant, tackling vast stretches of a subject’s life. Ring of Fire appears to attempt all three. Very quickly after the opening number—and I do mean quickly—we are thrust into scene after scene from Cash’s life, moving from his early stardom to his later years with his beloved June Carter Cash. Cash is played by multiple members of the cast, and at times he seems more like a passenger than the driving force of his own narrative.
While this structure is set by creator Richard Maltby Jr. and conceived by William Meade, I felt that co-directors West and Oster, along with lighting designer Brian J. Lilienthal, could have carved out more breathing room between these rapidly shifting vignettes. A more graded and intentional lighting approach—rather than one that often evoked a music-video or TikTok-length aesthetic—might have helped. Without those moments of pause, much of the emotional resonance slips away, leaving the story too slippery to hold onto or truly connect with.
Throughout the show, cast members cycle in and out of roles in Cash’s life, with his songs serving as catalysts for each scene shift. Structurally, this feels reminiscent of the Donna Summer Musical, in which the story is retrofitted around the songs rather than the songs illuminating the story. While the format doesn’t fully honor Cash’s life or legacy, the actors do consistently admirable work. One of the earliest moments of resonance arrives during the cast’s rendition of the beloved hymn “Will the Circle Be Unbroken,” where their exceptional blend and group vocal dynamics shine under Oster’s music direction. I found that each a cappella moment soared—while moments with instrumentation tended to suffer from diminished sound quality.
Another moment of group excellence comes with the staging of “Going to Memphis,” which was truly the highlight of the evening. The interplay of instruments—string, chain, hammer, and steel—combined with Lilienthal’s gray-washed lighting, elevated the scene alongside West’s lyrical choreography. The result was visually stunning. But, as with so many moments in this production, it vanished in a blink as the next scene rushed in.
As Cash endures floods, drug addiction, and fame, he meets his beloved June Carter, first portrayed by Celeste Vandermillen. While I found Vandermillen’s violin playing and singing to be of high quality, her portrayal of June Carter felt more akin to an episode of New Girl starring Zooey Deschanel—rendering June vapid and less funny than the real woman actually was. The use of a laugh track further undercuts the moment, pushing the scene into full sitcom territory rather than allowing its humor to arise naturally. As June ages, she is later played by Jenna Fawcett, whose voice glides as smoothly as a steel-guitar slider. One standout moment is her final number as June Carter Cash, where her vocals evoke the beauty and storytelling power of classic country. In that performance, Fawcett showcases exceptional intonation, dynamic control, and phrasing.
First to portray Johnny Cash is Patrick Dinnsen, who approaches the role with more physicality than vocal mimicry—an interesting interpretive choice, though one often undermined by sound issues that made many of his songs difficult to hear. His guitar playing, however, remains undeniably impressive. The titular role ultimately rests on the shoulders of Andrew Frace, who appears to have lived with Cash’s essence in his body for quite some time. Frace captures the iconic vocal tonality without slipping into imitation, offering his own spin through a vulnerability and physical specificity that feels fresh. The result is a well-tuned portrayal that helps steady an otherwise uneven production. Yet as the show barreled toward the song everyone was waiting for, it arrived with surprisingly little resonance—a consequence of the production’s relentless pacing and lack of breathing room, and ultimately one of the evening’s major disappointments.
Completing the cast is Nathan Yates Douglass, who appears in numerous roles but primarily serves as an intermediary between the two phases of Cash’s life. Douglass is a dynamic presence throughout, showing impressive range as he brings an almost gospel–funk essence to his bass playing. He later delivers a tender, standout rendition of “Man in Black”—a number oddly placed between scenes and not performed by Cash himself. Overall, Douglass brings a welcome sense of fun and energy, rounding out the cast with style.
As the show concluded, I actually found myself questioning whether it was truly over. Ending with an encore performance of a tongue-in-cheek old-time number felt like a missed opportunity—either to go out with the kind of high-energy jam this cast handles so well or to finally deliver a full, satisfying rendition of “Ring of Fire.” Instead, I left the production hungry, and not entirely sure I knew anything more about Johnny Cash than when I entered. After two hours, that lingering sense of knowing nothing was its own disappointment.
While this production boasts a great set and undeniably talented actors and musicians, the direction, lighting, and sound engineering never quite shore up the gaps inherent in the script. Instead of illuminating Cash’s legacy, the show often circles around it without landing. In the end, Ring of Fire left me feeling closer to the quiet ache of Hurt instead of truly knowing more of the Man in Black.
Ring of Fire: Johnny Cash is playing at Merrimack Repertory Theatre in Lowell Massachusetts through December 14th.
Douglass has two esses. Haha.