Content Warning: This article includes references to self-harm and suicide ideation.  i. help Sometimes, you stumble upon the right narrative at the right time in your life. For me, that was listening to the Dave Malloy musical Octet in 2020. Malloy creates sonically ambitious, dramaturgi cally dense shows. His most well-known is Natasha, Pierre the Great Comet of 1812 — an adaptation of a small section of War and Peace described as an “electropop opera,” whose Broadway production received 12 Tony nominations in 2017. While his shows can be overwhelming and discursive, Malloy has developed a cult fanbase among musical theater audiences via cast recordings. I particularly appreciate Ghost Quartet, a song cycle in which the themes of sisterhood and sacrifice reverberate through centuries. Yet my favorite Malloy musical is Octet, an a cappella musical that premiered at NYC’s Signature Theatre in 2019 (and is now playing in DC at Studio Theatre). Don’t let the choral arrangements fool you: Octet is a hypermodern work, with an eight-person ensemble representing eight internet addicts. They gather in a church basement to confront their over-reliance on “the monster,” performing songs about video games, dating apps, conspiracy theories, and more. Most productions of Octet have featured bare scenic designs, emphasizing the communal quality of theater — even as characters tackle their own disillusionment and dissociation. I first encountered Octet in the fall of 2019. Listening to the show’s original cast recording, I was captivated by the show’s winding melodies and sly humor. But that recording became the soundtrack to my life in the summer of 2020, at the peak of the COVID-19 pandemic and the “Summer of Racial Reckoning.” Suddenly, the entire world was mediated through screens, each one presenting images of mass death, incalculable grief, racist hate crimes, and murders. Octet’s anxiety over technology became eerily prescient.  The cast of ‘Octet’ (left to right): Aidan Joyce, Jimmy Kieffer, Chelsea Williams, Tracy Lynn Olivera, Amelia Aguilar (sitting upright), Ana Marcu, Angelo Harrington II, and David Toshiro Crane. ’ Photo by Margot Schulman. That summer, I would constantly listen to Octet’s “Glow,” sung by the support group character Paula and performed by Starr Busby. When Paula sang to her husband, “all these suffering souls / that you cannot control / and you invite them all / in our bed?,” I couldn’t help but think of all the trauma that my phone vomited into my bedroom 24/7.  In fact, the bed was where I lived most of my life in 2020. During my depressive states, I’d burrow myself under sheets, watching my body gain weight, feeling like myself and the world would only get worse every day. Death seemed like a better alternative. I’d stare at my wrists, thinking I’d feel relief if I carved my pain in blood, if my forearms were a page to scratch words. As I’ve written about before, that summer I attended intensive outpatient therapy at a hospital. There, I engaged in support group exercises similar to what’s staged in Octet. During these exercises, I would look around skeptically and think, “Is this really going to help me?” But I was desperate for some kind of escape from loneliness. These are actually the same attitudes and struggles of the character Velma in Octet. She’s the newest addition to the support group, cautiously engaging with the songs and looking askance at the group’s oddly-specific language. Yet Velma is there because she’s yearning for connection. After some experiences with internet communities where “some people in it were just getting off on other people’s pain,” she’s gone offline. But that has also led to isolation, so the support group offers Velma a flawed but necessary opportunity to meet new people. Velma’s emotional arc even takes centerstage at the climax of Octet (some plot spoilers to follow). While all of the other characters participate in the “Tower Tea Ceremony,” by ingesting a psychedelic that initiates a “5-minute coma,” Velma chooses to opt out of the ritual. She uses her alone time to reveal her strained connection to the internet. In the song “Beautiful,” performed entirely alone without any backing, Velma reveals that she’s previously stayed in her room, “tracing the lines / hidden underneath my sleeves / hashtag cuts / a forest of dead trees.”  Amelia Aguilar as Velma (center) with Chelsea Williams and Ana Marcu in ‘Octet.’ Photo by Margot Schulman. As Dave Malloy has shared on Genius, Velma’s been engaging with the self-harm communities found on Tumblr and Instagram. Yet the internet has also given Velma a powerful sense of connection. She’s formed an online friendship with another woman with experiences similar to hers, and they both find beauty in each other. Most days after my therapy in 2020, I’d return home and listen to “Beautiful,” getting choked up hearing Kuhoo Verma on the original cast recording. In Verma’s trembling voice, I recognized another soul overwhelmed by the world, but grateful for even a distant form of intimacy. At the height of her self-harm, Velma’s world was transformed just by another person she would’ve never met if not for the internet. At the height of my own self-harm, my world was transformed by the character of Velma, a person I would’ve never met if not for the theater.  ii. true Octet has deeply connected with theater artists and audiences since its premiere. Within the past year, it’s been performed in Toronto’s Crow’s Theatre and New York’s Hudson Valley Shakespeare (HVS). Watching the HVS production under an outdoor tent this past summer, I was rapt by the show once more, feeling like I was communing with the scared 2020 version of myself through a kind of theatrical wormhole. At Studio Theatre, the musical is now performed in the round in the Victor Shargai Theatre through February 22. Because Octet means so much to me, I was eager to discuss the role of Velma with Amelia Aguilar, the actor who portrays the character in the Studio production. Aguilar also found deep emotional resonance with the song “Beautiful.” “At first, I couldn’t get through ‘Beautiful’ without crying because it felt so true to some of the things I have felt in my life,” Aguilar told me in a Zoom interview after the production’s opening weekend. “It’s super, super vulnerable to just be the only person on stage, standing and singing without any backing.” Still, Aguilar finds it exciting to play a character she finds “so accepting and honest,” even as she tackles the role’s numerous physical and emotional challenges. “Velma’s so authentically herself,” Aguilar said. “I’ve never gotten to play a role like that before. It’s been nice to be super vulnerable on stage and play someone who has discovered radical self-acceptance and love. That’s something I have really learned from the role.” Amelia Aguilar. Photo courtesy of Studio Theatre. Aguilar, a 2025 graduate of Texas State University’s BFA Musical Theatre program, wasn’t always familiar with Octet. While auditioning for Velma, she learned “Beautiful” and a short book scene, realizing only later that all actors in Octet are performing a cappella arrangements in nearly every song. Yet as someone who says she’s “a musician at heart,” Aguilar was excited by Octet, even expressing to her agents, “This might be my new hyperfixation.” Aguilar describes performing the show as being on a forward-moving train: the musical transitions quickly between songs, with no intermission. Portraying Velma in particular is a challenge because Aguilar never leaves the stage in this Studio production. Aguilar worked with Octet’s director (and Studio’s artistic director) David Muse to add a moment where Velma gulps down water during a coffee break scene, to ensure that Aguilar can remain hydrated in the show.  This production is also physically demanding, with Aguilar performing rhythmic choreography during many songs. Aguilar said that the a capella arrangements mean all members of the ensemble must support each other. “This has been the most collaborative, team-based process I’ve ever been a part of,” Aguilar said. “If one person goes out, then that’s an eighth of the song, an eighth of the show.” The Studio Theatre production of Octet distinguishes itself from previous ones in a few ways. When Octet is staged in the round, audiences feel like an extension of the onstage support group circle. Audiences are even encouraged to get coffee and snacks from a table that’s also used by the actors. The stage’s circular, rotating floors also move during songs, creating a sense of dislocation for both actors and audiences. One of Studio’s largest innovations in Octet is its depiction of Velma. Costume designer Moyenda Kulemeka leaned into a Y2K “WitchTok” aesthetic, with Velma’s outfit composed of garments in lavender, magenta, and mauve — all accentuated by silver jewelry and a Zebra-print jacket. It’s a far cry from other productions of Octet, which have often dressed Velma in muted colors, but Aguilar thinks it’s motivated by her character. “Someone who’s so chronically online would have a very specific aesthetic,” Aguilar said. “Her character is super, super nervous about leaving her tiny world and stepping out… I think she would specifically wear something that made her feel confident.” Aesthetics might be a place where Velma, the character, and Aguilar, the actor, intersect. Velma’s outfit isn’t far from Aguilar’s own style. The actor is also sporting her own bright pink hair in the show, having suggested the color to Studio’s creative team. iii. precious Aguilar’s identity informs her portrayal of Velma in other ways, too. She said that her personal life doesn’t inform every show, but for such a realistic character that “resonates” with her life, she was okay bringing some of herself into Velma. “I definitely am pulling from my own experiences in life,” Aguilar said. “I am someone who is chronically online. I am somebody who has experienced body image — I’m not going to say issues, but I think we’ve all had our insecurities before. It’s really, really exciting to have a character that is so vulnerable about those insecurities, and it isn’t poked fun of. So it makes it easy for me to step into those shoes, while also doing it in a healthy way so that I’m not harming my mental health every night.” While building her character, Aguilar reached out to Kuhoo Verma for advice on how to tackle the role. Verma recommended that Aguilar take care of herself because the role can be isolating. Aguilar said while she drew from her personal struggles with mental health for her performance, she made sure not to retraumatize herself with past experiences every night. “I am able to pull the general feelings associated with those experiences, without relying solely on the flashbacks of those memories,” she said.  Aguilar’s standout moment of performance is “Beautiful,” and this Studio production features many moments of physicality. For example, when Velma sings about self-harm, Aguilar delicately holds her wrists and her sleeves. The staging indicates Velma’s thoughts of self-harm in a way that felt utterly familiar for me, but still felt subtle enough not to literally restage any violence. As the song builds and Aguilar eventually lightly beats her chest, the action surpasses any harm and becomes a rallying cry. The wrist also becomes the location for a different moment of tenderness. When Velma fantasizes about meeting her online friend, she imagines kissing her friend’s wrist. While other productions have Velma quickly pecking her wrist, Aguilar slowly presses her lips against her own arm, a choice that — as with all of Aguilar’s physical actions onstage — came from the moment feeling right in the rehearsal process. “I had a conversation with [director David Muse] about this person that she’s talking about being the most precious relationship in her life ever,” Aguilar said. “If she were actually to see this person, it would be a very loving, intimate moment.” iv. resonances When I expressed to Aguilar that many audiences — including myself — have had similar mental health struggles as Velma, Aguilar said she feels a collective “sense of respect toward the subject matter” with theater audiences.  “I’ve been really grateful to be able to represent a group of individuals who maybe don’t always feel seen or loved,” Aguilar said. She’s particularly proud to be in a show that grapples with body image, but isn’t using those topics to stereotype or mock people — and her role isn’t solely defined by that theme, either. “It’s made to feel like this bad thing for having a body, a body that isn’t fitting the mold of today’s beauty standard,” she said. Aguilar is also one of the many Asian actors who have taken on Velma, joining Kuhoo Verma, Mia Pak, and Alicia Ault. As an actor who is Guatemalan, Asian, and white, Aguilar also represents those communities when performing onstage. This is a fascinating casting trend for a musical that doesn’t specify races for most of its cast members (for example, Paula has often been performed by Black actors, but at Studio, she’s portrayed by the non-Black actor Tracy Lynn Olivera). And yet racial dynamics do play a role within the text of the show. The character Jessica recounts being the subject of a viral “white woman goes crazy video,” and Velma is well-versed in the Native discourses around tarot cards and “white appropriation.”  As a mixed Asian American myself, I’m of two minds about this Octet casting trend. On the one hand, I’m glad to see myself represented onstage by Aguilar. As writers have recently discussed with Gypsy and Maybe Happy Ending, casting actors of color in musicals can create profound resonances for audiences. On the other hand, I’m wary about drawing hard boundaries on Velma needing to be an “Asian role” (just as I’m wary about treating Eliza in Hamilton as an “Asian role,” simply because the Asian actor Phillipa Soo originated the part). I’m scared Asian actors might get pigeonholed into one of the most intense roles in Octet. Plus, the presence of multiracial actors like Aguilar and Soo might expand what’s even considered an “Asian role” onstage. Ultimately, though, I’m grateful that Asian women have been cast as Velma in Octet. It might be trite to say that “representation matters” in 2026. Still, I feel a theatrical kinship with these Asian actors, who together might form their own chorus or support group with shared experiences. Aguilar said she’s personally glad women of color have been playing a role that rebukes the shame and insecurities society places on them. “It is beautiful, no pun intended, to have those faces and identities taking over a role that is sort of a symbol of self-acceptance — or at the very least just wanting to start that road,” Aguilar said.  v. chaos Nearly seven years after its off-Broadway premiere, Octet still feels prescient. Many of the musical’s cultural references now feel dated — no unchanging piece of dramatic literature can ever keep up with the internet’s hyper-accelerated pace. Yet Malloy’s frank staging of redpill conspiracies feels true for DC audiences who have watched their city overtaken by QAnon, by government officials referenced in the Epstein files, and by Young Republicans who are proud Nazis. Today, the traumas my phone vomits into my bedroom include atrocities in Gaza, Ukraine, Iran, and now Minnesota. Listening to Octet in 2020, the musical captured my nihilistic feeling that the world, fueled by the Internet, had reached a nadir. How lucky I was back then. Watching Octet in 2026, the musical now captures my feeling that the world will only ever get worse.  Still, Velma confronts this madness, briefly finding a moment of hope during Octet. As the newest member of the group, she retains her individuality, often not getting sucked into the group’s collective despair. Velma’s the character with the most metatheatricality, aware that each person in the group represents a different tarot card (perhaps she’s aware of Dave Malloy’s own dramaturgy). In “Beautiful,” she’s even the person to finally name the “monster,” using the term “the internet” for the first time onstage. After watching Octet at Studio Theatre, I’ve tried to hold onto Velma’s sincere hope, alongside Aguilar’s sly smirk at the ridiculousness of the support group. Aguilar said that Velma is only able to move forward, and sing “Beautiful,” because she’s listened to other people’s stories. “I think the comfortability she has with naming [the monster] comes at the very end of the show, after having listened to all of these other people’s experiences and being a supportive energy to them,” Aguilar said. “She’s looking around a little bit with skepticism, but she’s also understanding of the reason that everyone is there, which is that we’ve all come here looking for some sort of peace in the chaos that is the Internet.” Today, I often feel Velma’s sincerity and skepticism toward theater itself. The characters in Octet are addicted to the internet, aware that it’s bad for them but desperately going back to it anyway, itching for a high that’s now dull. Perhaps my addiction is to theater itself. Playwright Quiara Alegría Hudes once asked if “the ways theatre has harmed me are winning out over the ways theatre has nourished me.” I believe this art form has caused me more pain and heartbreak than it’s nourished me. And still I return to the theater, itching for the rare high I’ll get from encountering a work like Octet.  Watching the musical today, I’m reminded of my time in the hospital in 2020, engaging in group exercises to improve my mental health even as the world fell apart around me. “Sure, like 15 minutes of art therapy is going to erase so much pain,” I would think to myself. But now, I try to approach theater the way Velma approaches her support group: with a healthy dose of skepticism, but also with good faith. As many theater professionals recently emphasized for me, theater is nottherapy. But there is something valuable about gathering together, there is something valuable in what Aguilar called “a supportive energy.” This energy doesn’t erase pain so much as recontextualize it. When Velma sings “Beautiful” in Octet, within the world of the show, she’s singing it just for herself before the support group slowly rouses from their comas. Yet watching Aguilar perform “Beautiful” live, I’m reminded that any actor portraying Velma can never truly just sing for herself: the actor must implicitly acknowledge the audience watching her. This feels like the contradiction all writers must face eventually: to write is to communicate, and writers can never truly escape an imagined audience. Dave Malloy communicates through music, and Amelia Aguilar communicates through performance — and somehow their imagined audience became me, who communicates to you through this essay.  At the end of “Beautiful,” Velma states that even though the internet is disastrous, “this ugly thing / lets me sing.” As I write this essay to share online, I hope that it reaches someone out there, the way that Velma reached me. Even as ugliness flickers across your phone, I hope Malloy, Aguilar, and I can help you discover some kind of harmony. Octet plays through February 22, 2026, in the Victor Shargai Theatre at Studio Theatre, 1501 14th Street NW, Washington, DC. For tickets ($68–$150, with discounts available), go online, call the box office at 202-332-3300, email [email protected], or visit TodayTix. Studio Theater offers discounts for first responders, military servicepeople, students, young people, educators, senior citizens, and others, as well as rush tickets. For discounts, contact the box office or visit here for more information. Running Time: One hour and 40 minutes with no intermission The program for Octet is online here. Note: Octet is a phone-free experience. Audience members will be asked to lock their phones in a pouch for the duration of the show.  Buy Tickets Discount Tickets Amelia Aguilar is a performer and music director whose performance credits include Superstar: A Concert, Rent,Into the Woods, and Seussical at Texas State University. Her musical director credits include Superstar: A Concert and Sister Act at Texas State University. Her television and film credits include background vocals for the Josh Groban Holiday Special and the Grammy Awards 2020. Aguilar holds a BFA in Musical Theatre from Texas State University and received additional training at Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre. On social media @ameliaaguilarr (Instagram). SEE ALSO:What works (and what doesn’t) in Dave Malloy’s ‘Octet’ at Studio (review by Nicole Hertvik, January 21, 2025) The post Amelia Aguilar on finding acceptance and honesty in ‘Octet’ at Studio appeared first on DC Theater Arts. ...read more read less