Back when Coal was King in West Virginia, miners had a special admiration (bordering on reverence) for the juice men, the guys who drove the dynamite trucks over washboard roads through the hollows and over the peaks and placed the charges, all in service to busting mountains into lunar slag heaps and opening new veins of black wealth.
Juice men were serious in their work, precise, courageous, and to the hard-scrabble men around them, borderline foolhardy.
I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that with its production of The Burnt Part Boys, Mountain Theatre Company once more delivers the juice.
Set in the coal country of West Virginia in 1962, The Burnt Part Boys is a bluegrass-tinged coming-of-age musical that follows a group of teenagers as they confront the legacy of a deadly mining accident. Ten years after the disaster, the Pickaway Coal Company plans to reopen the mine – known as “The Burnt Part” – and send down Jake Twitchell (Spencer Bethers), whose father died in the original collapse.re o
His younger brother Pete (Alex Pletikapich), fueled by cinematic fantasies and grief, sets out with dynamite and a mission to stop the re-mining. He’s joined by his saw-strumming best friend Dusty (William Field), and later by Frances (Katie Berger Wood), a runaway with her own tragic connection to the mine.
Pletikapich’s Pete is a revelation – his rendition of “Countdown” and “Man I Never Knew” pulses with youthful defiance and aching vulnerability. His voice carries the urgency of a boy desperate to rewrite history, and his performance anchors the emotional core of the show.
Field’s Dusty brings comic charm and musical soul, especially in “Dusty Plays the Saw,” a whimsical yet poignant number that showcases his quirky brilliance and heartfelt loyalty. Bethers, as Jake, delivers a soul-stirring “Disappear” that captures the weight of inherited duty and the quiet torment of a young man caught between survival and sacrifice.
His scenes with Michael Robert Krebs as Chet – Jake’s loyal and wisecracking friend – add texture to the journey. Krebs brings grounded warmth and vocal strength to ensemble numbers like “Climbing Song,” where the group’s ascent mirrors their emotional reckoning.
Katie Berger Wood shines as Frances, the lone girl in the group and a character whose quiet strength and emotional depth elevate the production. Her performance is layered and compelling – equal parts grit and grace. Berger Wood’s rendition of “Little Toy Compass” is beautifully fun, her voice carrying both sorrow and resolve as she confronts the ghosts of her past. She brings a magnetic stillness to the stage, and her interactions with Pete and Dusty reveal a character shaped by loss but not defined by it. Her presence is a vital emotional anchor in the show’s most introspective moments.
The haunting presence of the Dead Miners – Stuart Metcalf, Al Dollar, Terrance McQueen, and James Arthel Reilly – adds a spectral layer to the show. Their harmonies echo like ghosts through the hollows, especially in “God’s Eyes,” a song that threads through the production like a lament.
Bo Garrard, doubling as Miner and Musician, is unforgettable. His live guitar lends an eerie beauty to the score, and his spectral presence lingers long after the curtain falls.
Director Scott Daniel guides the production with precision and heart, allowing each character’s emotional arc to unfold naturally against the rugged backdrop of South Mountain. Lori Nielsen Lindsay’s musical direction ensures that Chris Miller’s score and Nathan Tysen’s lyrics resonate with Appalachian authenticity, while the ensemble’s harmonies evoke both the grit and grace of coal country.
Visually, the show is a masterclass. Daniel’s scenic design conjures the mine’s looming presence with timbered realism, while Mike Wood’s lighting design shifts seamlessly between dusky forest glows and subterranean dread. Wood’s use of shadow and silhouette is particularly effective in scenes where memory and myth blur.
Bo Garrard’s sound design is equally immersive — every echo, rumble, and musical swell is tuned to emotional pitch, drawing the audience deeper into the mine’s metaphorical depths.
Costume designer Beck Jones grounds the characters in their era with subtle detail — Pete’s patched jeans and Frances’ rugged boots speak volumes about resilience and rebellion. The miners’ ghostly garb, tinged with soot and sorrow, adds a haunting visual layer that reinforces the show’s themes of legacy and loss.
Without giving away too much about its take-no-prisoners denouement set way down deep in a pit of despair, let’s just say it would take a heart of anthracite not to be moved to tears. The final scenes are a gut-punch of catharsis, where grief, forgiveness, and courage collide in a crescendo of emotional truth.
The Burnt Part Boys is more than a musical – it’s a reckoning. Mountain Theatre Company has once again proven its ability to fuse technical excellence with emotional depth, crafting a production that honors the past while challenging the present. In doing so, they’ve not only lit the fuse — they’ve delivered the juice.
So, filled with a juice man’s spirit after this astonishing production, let me slip off my critic’s hat, flip it and extend it to you like a pauper’s cap clutched by a wretched scrivener at the entrance to Tin Pan Alley.
I’ve been writing about the cultural landscape of the Plateau for the past 38 years. I’ve witnessed Great Experiments and Noble Notions blossom for a couple of seasons and then vanish like maple leaves on the second week of November.
I’ve seen institutions lose their direction and then succumb to inertia, lingering on life support until they issue their agonizing final gasp.
That was the story of Highlands Playhouse, which brought drama and humor and music to the Plateau in 1938 and every season since.
• 1930s–1949: The original troupe began as Highlands Little Theatre, formally organizing in the late 1930s. It was renamed Highlands Community Theatre in 1949.
• Early 1980s: The group began hiring professional actors and technicians, evolving into a summer stock theatre known as Highlands Playhouse.
• 2020: Productions were interrupted due to the global pandemic.
• 2022: The organization officially rebranded as Mountain Theatre Company, marking the end of the Highlands Playhouse name.
• 2023: Mountain Theatre Company became the resident professional company at the new Highlands Performing Arts Center.
• July 2023: The company formally handed the keys of the Highlands Playhouse back to the Town of Highlands, completing the transition.
Mountain Theatre Company now presents Broadway-quality musicals from June through December. Their 2025 season includes shows like The Marvelous Wonderettes, Forever Plaid, The Burnt Part Boys, and the upcoming Home for the Holidays.
But here’s the thing – MTC is operating on a knife’s edge.
The Pandemic hit cultural enterprises around the world. (Think that’s hyperbole? Nope – I keep in touch with the editors of art/cultural magazines/websites/podcasts across the US and throughout the Commonwealth and parts of Asia – everyone everywhere is still hurting!)
It would be a tragedy if we were to lose the talent and vision and peculiar alchemy that has allowed us to attract Broadway-quality professional theater (forgive the “er” spelling, I’m afraid that that’s one artistic decision that Executive Artistic Director Scott Daniel and I will never see eye-to-eye on).
This brave troupe has been hauling the juice for us for all this time, and it’s about time we paid the piper for the entertainment.
Please, whether you’re a year-rounder or a seasonal resident or a person who’s on a desperate escape from the rigors of the Outside World, buy a ticket for these exceptional productions. Take your sweetie or a good friend or those neighbors whom you love but who don’t get out much.
Enjoy the show. Tell others about it. Come back for an encore performance.
(Again, that’s not hyperbole. If you attend an MTC show and you’re not dazzled, enchanted, or elevated, send me a note (luke@thelaurelmagazine.com) and I’ll buy you a cup of coffee and a doughnut. (Write “Where’s My Doughnut?” in the subject line so you don’t get shunted to my Spam Folder.)
And, if you have deep pockets (or at least a little jingle in your pocket), make out a generous check to Mountain Theatre Company to ensure that this storied Plateau institution keeps telling its stories and inviting all of us to join in its intricate dance.
I’m thanking you in advance, and please look for me somewhere in the audience.
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