Once, Berkeley Playhouse
The cast of Once at Berkeley Playhouse. | Credit: Ben Krantz Studio

Once is a love letter to the connective power of music. The musical could not have come to Berkeley Playhouse at a better time.

Outside the Julia Morgan Theater, two violinists serenade you while you wait in the ticket line. A lively trio of accordion, banjo, and guitar continue the jaunt while you take your seat inside. The immersive experience immediately transports you to another world where fellow audience members feel like pub mates — here, everyone is gathered in brief, jolly debauchery.

Running through Mar. 29, this is a show where the music takes center-stage, literally. True to the original Tony Award-winning production, the actors play their own instruments rather than relying on a pit orchestra for accompaniment. But in the Playhouse’s version, the music is also all around.

Christina Walton
Christina Walton (Ex-Girlfriend) performing outside Berkeley Playhouse. | Credit: Ben Krantz Studio

In Josh Marx’s well-directed production, the entire theater feels like an Irish pub, with music posters lining the wooden walls of the interior, and bottles of liquor dangling from the ceiling above the stage. Mere feet from the proscenium, wooden tables and chairs are set up like a bar, replacing a front row. Thanks to impeccable set design by Matt Owens, it feels like the cast invites the audience into the ensemble. We are all, for a moment, members of this timeless, multicultural community.

Once, based off the 2007 film of the same name, is a story about the power of music to create community, and the power of community to pull us out of the depths of despair and into the joy of human connection. It’s a needed corrective to today’s daily headlines, and a reprieve from the gloominess they induce.

The power of Once rests on the strength of the ensemble, and this cast does not miss a beat. Almost every song that begins as a solo ends in beautiful collective harmony, with the townsfolk entering seamlessly. Every set change is a shining moment for the cast, as they collaboratively transform the stage from pub to bedroom to recording studio, all while keeping the music and momentum pulsing. Sarah Jiang’s hauntingly beautiful soprano voice deserves a shoutout; as part of the ensemble cast, she carries the motif of “If You Want Me” across the story to build tension.

Gillian Eichenberger (Girl) and Jake Gale (Guy)
Gillian Eichenberger (Girl) and Jake Gale (Guy) in Berkeley Playhouse's Once. | Credit: Ben Krantz Studio

Amid the impressive backdrop of the collective, Jake Gale’s vocals soar. He conveys the melancholy, longing, and love of the main character, Guy, with incredible vocal control. His emotional variation is stunning. The only pity is that his microphone is not turned up enough, making it hard to understand his lyrics. 

The acting of Gillian Eichenberger merits a belting ballad of praise. As Girl, a Czech immigrant to the Irish town and the other half of this love story, Eichenberger delivers her dry dialogue with excellent comedic timing. (“You are like Mendelssohn, only alive and Irish,” she says as she reassures Guy of his potential.) Eichenberger’s endearing, earnest portrayal grounds the emotional center of the story, and her facial expressions are superb in their subtlety.

Several side characters pepper the musical with comic relief. Michael Barrett Austin deserves a holler for his hilarious portrayal of Billy, the local shop owner, as does Sean Hoffman, for his kooky appearance as the risk-averse Bank Manager. The character of Baruska, Girl's mother, is delightfully brought to life by Dyan McBride.

Sarah Jiang (Reza), Christina Walton (Ex Girlfriend),
Sarah Jiang (Reza), Christina Walton (Ex Girlfriend), and the cast of Once. | Credit: Ben Krantz Studio

The narrative arc of the show feels just barely incomplete. Though the love story between Guy and Girl is not supposed to resolve, it is not obvious why it shouldn’t. Why does Guy’s ex-girlfriend suddenly want him back? Why does Girl want to stay with her complicated, absent husband? The answers to these questions would’ve made the crestfallen ending feel more believable. Instead, we are left to wonder, “why don't these songbirds just get together already?

But what is disappointing in narrative (and in amplification) is redeemed by a hearty collective spirit. The bold energy of the ensemble feels like a direct response to a warning offered by Baruska, “those who live in fear die miserably in their graves.”

Once reminds us that, while we may have many loves, we only live once. It’s a simple lesson renewed by the surround-sound musical medium. In this time of immense fear in America, Once is a harmonious testament to the power of music to bridge cultural divides, open each other’s hearts, and tap into our collective resilience.