Why Ariana Grande in “Sunday in the Park with George” Makes Me Hopeful
by Chris Peterson
Some theatre news you scroll past without a second thought. And then there are the ones that make you stop. Not because you’re sure how you feel, but because you suddenly realize you’re going to be thinking about it for the rest of the day.
The news that Ariana Grande and Jonathan Bailey are attached to a London revival of Sunday in the Park with George did that to me.
I should probably say this up front, because it explains a lot of my reaction: Sunday isn’t just a show I admire. I think it’s one of the five greatest musicals of the 20th century. Full stop. And if I’m ranking Sondheim purely on instinct and not diplomacy, this is the one I come back to the most. It’s the show I reach for when I need to remember why musical theatre exists at all. Why art is hard. Why the act of making something honest almost always costs more than you expect it to.
So yes, I’m protective of it. Deeply. But I’m also… intrigued. And a little excited. Which surprised me.
Ariana Grande as Dot is the kind of casting that people will argue about immediately, usually without sitting with it very long. I understand that reaction. Dot isn’t a flashy role. She’s not about vocal perfection or showing off. She’s funny and fragile and needy and sharper than people give her credit for. She’s a woman who knows she’s pouring herself into someone who may never fully meet her where she is. That’s not a “pop star” assignment. That’s an acting assignment.
And honestly, that’s why this could work.
Grande’s voice has never been the question. What Sunday asks for instead is stillness. Precision. Vulnerability. There is nowhere to hide in that score. No tricks. No distractions. If she resists the urge to perform Dot and instead lets herself become her, this could show us something in Grande that we haven’t really been allowed to see yet. Not because it isn’t there, but because this industry doesn’t always make space for quiet transformation.
Jonathan Bailey as George feels, at least to me, like the steadier choice. He understands emotional distance. He knows how to play guarded without becoming remote. If this pairing works, it won’t be because they’re famous. It’ll be because both actors are willing to trust the silence. And that matters more in this show than almost anything else.
Because Sunday in the Park with George doesn’t work when it’s treated like a relic. Or worse, like homework. It’s not a musical that flatters its audience. It asks uncomfortable questions and then refuses to tidy them up for you. It understands that art isn’t always about escape. Sometimes it’s about sitting with the possibility that the thing you love most might also be the thing that takes the most from you.
That idea feels especially relevant right now.
If this revival brings new audiences in because of Grande’s name, and they leave wrestling with “Move On” or “Finishing the Hat,” that feels like a win. A quiet one, but a meaningful one. Sondheim doesn’t need to be framed as intimidating or academic. He’s human. Messy. Necessary.
This doesn’t read as stunt casting to me. At least not yet. It reads as a risk. And Sunday has always been about risk. About committing to the work even when the outcome isn’t guaranteed. If this production honors the stillness, resists the urge to over-polish, and trusts the material to do what it’s always done, it could be something genuinely special.
I’m hopeful. With this show, hope doesn’t feel naive. It feels required.
