Review: TINY BEAUTIFUL THINGS at Crescent City Stage

What happens when the written word becomes a lifeline? In TINY BEAUTIFUL THINGS, Crescent City Stage delivers a stirring answer, offering audiences not just a play, but an experience in empathy and shared vulnerability.

Based on the best-selling book by Cheryl Strayed and adapted for the stage by Nia Vardalos, TINY BEAUTIFUL THINGS is not your typical play. There is no linear plot, no grand climax or traditional character arc. And yet, it is one of the most quietly powerful and deeply moving theatrical experiences you will encounter.

Long before it reached the stage, TINY BEAUTIFUL THINGS was a series of online advice columns. In 2010, Strayed anonymously took over Dear Sugar at The Rumpus, responding to readers who bared their souls in letters filled with longing, shame, fear and hope. What made Strayed’s responses so magnetic was her refusal to offer easy answers. Instead, she presented herself: messy, flawed, grieving and loving. Each response was less about fixing and more about witnessing.

When Strayed revealed herself in 2012, the timing coincided with the publication of her memoir Wild, which later became a hit film starring Reese Witherspoon. That success gave Dear Sugar a second life. The best of her columns were collected in the bestselling book Tiny Beautiful Things, and from there, adapted by Nia Vardalos into a stage production that would later evolve into a podcast and a Hulu series.

The play centers around these letters that sometimes desperate, sometimes humorous, always vulnerable. They are brought to life by an ensemble cast, who rotate through the roles of the letter writers. It’s a clever device that transforms the stage into an emotional kaleidoscope.

Crescent City Stage’s interpretation of the play keeps the soul of Sugar intact. Tenea Intriago steps into the role with warmth, steel and a gentle command. She isn’t simply playing Cheryl Strayed; she’s channeling the part of Sugar that listens, absorbs and responds with openhearted truth. Intriago’s portrayal of Sugar is a nuanced blend of warmth and strength, drawing the audience into a space where empathy and truth collide.

Supporting Intriago are Steve Zissis, Helena Wang and Rashif Ali, an ensemble that transforms into the multitude of letter writers. They take on voices that range from humorous to heartbreaking: cheaters seeking redemption, survivors unpacking trauma, parents mourning their children. As Sugar replies, we also begin to learn about her own history: the early loss of her mother, the unraveling of her marriage, the ache of abandonment.

Director Michael Newcomer lets the emotions ebb and flow naturally across the show’s tight 80-minute run. Some moments feel more emotionally charged than others, and not every transition flows seamlessly. Still, the pace never drags, and when the play lands—as it does in one especially poignant scene featuring Zissis as a grieving father—it hits deep.

The set is spare with just a desk, a chaise and a bench set against an empty black space. But that blankness becomes a canvas for James Lanius III’s vivid projections, aided by the shifting tones of Ben Norman’s lighting design and original music by Donald Markowitz, with haunting trumpet accents from Branden Lewis. These design elements amplify the play without stealing focus from the words.

The production asks a lot of its audience. It doesn’t entertain in the conventional sense. It invites us to sit with the pain. To recognize ourselves in the words of strangers. Understanding that, sometimes, the act of simply listening and being heard is a form of healing.

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