Broken Arrow Community Playhouse: "Almost, Maine"
Broken Arrow Community Playhouse
February 14, 2026
It was—to paraphrase the opening stage direction of Almost, Maine—an unseasonably warm Saturday night in the middle of (allegedly) winter in a small town in northeastern Oklahoma called Broken Arrow. This is where I found myself on Valentine’s night to see a community production of this much-loved 2004 play about love by John Carini, produced by the Broken Arrow Community Playhouse.
The play takes place in the mythical, fictional, not-quite-a-town of Almost (because, as a character explains, they never got organized enough to create a township) in the snowy, northernmost part of the state. Through nine scenes, the script introduces an assortment of fuzzy hat-, parka- and boot-clad-characters who, all around 9 p.m., fall in and out of love under the northern lights. If it sounds like the makings of a Hallmark Christmas movie without an explicit holiday tie-in, that’s because it is.
I’m not going to lie: at this point in the day, I already felt sickly saturated with Valentine’s Day social media posts and consumerism, so it was definitely a cynical ass that I dragged down the BA Expressway. But under the direction of Don Tabberer and Nicky Finch, this cast lured me into the delicate world of Almost.
Nine actors took on upwards of three different roles each to cover all 20 characters in the script. Some performers made me giddy, like Jimmy Reiner, who made Lendall so likable that by the time he got to his big monologue in a scene called “Getting it Back” I had a big goofy grin on my face. Others drew me in for their vulnerability, like Kara Lord with her nervous optimism in “Story of Hope.”
The true endorphin-pumping moments revolved around a few couplets that really brought me into the playwright’s world. In the scene “Sad and Glad,” Caleb Baumgartner (Jimmy) and Nik Reese (Sandrine) perfectly encapsulated that jittery, awkward adrenalin rush you get when you run into your ex in public. Christian Stubblefield (Steve) and Hannah Gray (Marvalyn) had a lively rapport in a scene filled with pinpoint physical comedy and tender intimacy. And I couldn’t help but get caught up in Stubblefield and Mae Huck's wistful performances as Pete and Ginette, the only couple the audience returns to throughout the play, even though I already knew the punchline of one of their scenes: no way was Ginette going to leave Pete alone on the bench.
There are elements of magical realism in the script that can make it come across as kitschy: a woman who carries her literal broken heart in a bag, another woman who brings physical totes of “love” that her ex gave her to the stage, and people who literally drop to the ground when they “fall” in love with one another. But each cast member performed so earnestly that I found these moments endearing rather than cringe.
Amplifying the dreamy tone was a radiant northern lights effect designed by Anna Puhl and Finch, paired with Ben Morgan’s ethereal sound design that punctuated each scene at a specific moment. The hodge-podge set divided the stage into four separate yet distinct locations, aiding the idea that Almost is a place that isn’t a real place, though I think a more simplified, flexible design would’ve given that same effect while allowing the cast more space to move around in the light while also improving sight lines for the audience.
It’s easy to see why Almost, Maine is one of the most frequently produced plays across the United States. Whether relationships do or don’t work out, in this wintry, fictional not-a-town, love is boiled down to its simplest, most universal form. This comes across most in the scene “They Fell,” when one character confesses to another that “there is one thing in this world that makes me feel really good and that does make sense, and it’s you.” The play seems to ask the question: is love really any more complicated than that? And I may be marginally more convinced by its winsome answer than I was when I set out on Valentine’s night.
If you too want to visit Almost, Maine, you can catch it at the Broken Arrow Community Playhouse through February 22. If you’ve already seen it and are still in the Valentine’s Day mood this weekend, Theatre Tulsa is delivering four more productions of Love Letters at its studio space, also through the 22nd.
