Why a Queer Reimagining of “The Fantasticks” Feels Right

Lewis (Peter Toto, left) and Matt (Harrison Fish, right), in the Provincetown Theater’s production of the off-Broadway classic The Fantasticks (Photos by Bob Tucker/Focalpoint)

by Chris Peterson

I’ll admit it. When I first saw the headline about The Fantasticks being reimagined as a gay love story and aiming for Broadway, my immediate reaction wasn’t skepticism. It was curiosity. The good kind. The kind that makes you lean back in your chair and think, okay, tell me more.

Because here’s the thing. I love original storytelling. Especially when it comes from voices that have historically been pushed to the margins. New stories matter. New characters matter. New perspectives matter. But I’ve also never believed that moving forward means abandoning what came before. Theatre doesn’t work like that. It never has.

Theatre is a conversation that stretches across decades. And sometimes a familiar story comes back and asks to be seen through a different lens. Not because the original was wrong, but because the world has changed. Or because we finally have the language to see something that was always there.

That’s why this Fantasticks reimagining makes sense to me.

For years, the show has been treated as something sacred. A poetic fable about young love, heartbreak, and the slow realization that the world is more complicated than we were promised. It’s intimate. And because of that, it’s been remarkably adaptable. Black boxes. Colleges. Community theatres. It’s lived many lives.

So the idea that this story could center a gay couple, Matt and Lewis, doesn’t feel provocative. It feels like a continuation.

Queerness has always fit comfortably within The Fantasticks. The show is about longing. About being told who you’re supposed to love and how you’re supposed to love them. About secrecy and performance and the stories society constructs to control outcomes. Those themes don’t appear when you make the central relationship queer. They become clearer.

I also appreciate that this reimagining isn’t positioning itself as an erasure of the original. It’s not saying the classic version no longer matters. It’s saying this story has room to hold more than one truth.

There’s a broader conversation right now about adaptation. About whether reimagining older works is lazy or cynical. And I understand that. We’ve all seen empty revivals that exist purely for brand recognition. This doesn’t feel like that.

This feels thoughtful. Rooted in love for the material rather than a desire to exploit it.

Broadway, for all its talk about progress, still struggles with intimacy. With small stories. With shows that don’t rely on spectacle to justify their presence. The Fantasticks going to Broadway in any form is already intriguing. Doing so with a queer reimagining makes it even more so.

I don’t know what this production will ultimately look like or how long it will last. But I do know this. Theatre grows when it allows itself to be reexamined. When it trusts artists to approach beloved material with care rather than fear. When it understands that honoring tradition doesn’t mean protecting it from change.

There is nothing wrong with reimagining old favorites. Especially when it opens doors instead of closing them. Especially when it reminds us that love stories are not finite resources. There is always room for one more.