A challenge for you: While reading this article, don’t think about peeing. No crossing your legs at the thought of running bathwater or gushing waterfalls.
After all, that’s what the citizens in Tony Award-winning Urinetown (the musical; Urinetown the town is different) constantly do. In their odd little world, peeing is a privilege, tightly controlled through paid public restrooms owned by the evil Caldwell B. Cladwell’s Urine Good Company. When Cladwell (Quincy Kuykendall) schemes with local politicians to hike up the pee fee, commode janitor Bobby Strong (Kameron Callahan) leads a revolution of disgruntled defecators to rise against the oppressors – with Cladwell’s daughter Hope (Gabrielle North) as a not-so-reluctant hostage. St. Edward’s University brings this ridiculously farcical comedy to Austin, leaning into the show’s constant meta commentary on musical theatre tropes with plentiful winks to the audience.
Now remember, don’t think about urination. Even when I mention the rainbow-tinted arc of a garden hose sparkling in the sun, don’t feel any pressure in the nethers. But here’s the real challenge: Don’t be tempted to compare the loss of Urinetown’s basic human rights with the actual loss of rights happening in America.
Consider instead the incredible artistic craft on display: how scenic designer Theada Haining uses the Mary Moody Northen’s in-the-round design to expertly block out the city’s division of wealth, stretching out the stage space by utilizing corner platforms complete with neon signs that often serve as punchlines for dialogue. Or consider the joyous color schemes in Susan Branch Towne’s costume design. The brown-and-yellow costumes of the poor, able to conjure toilet bowl themes without being too deep in the gutter (same goes for the indelible toilet paper angel wings later in the production). Revel in the lurid pops of green in the outfits of the rich, who are also clad in immensely silly spats and top hats, a caricature of company and political power.
Again, don’t think about how those real-life corporations don’t even pretend to work for the people. Don’t feel sad about our current world, where that blatant wealth gap doesn’t just function as story shorthand.
If you can successfully keep your mind from wandering toward reality, Urinetown is nothing but hilarious.
Instead, marvel at the musical talent on display. It’s really a remarkable assemblage of voices. St. Edward’s is rightfully proud of this program. As they should be … with this level of performance, it’s no wonder they’re consistently raking in B. Iden Payne noms and awards. The three guest artists are excellently deployed, but that’s no slight on the powerhouse student performers. Everyone’s clearly having a ball with the broadness and physicality of these roles. Jake McDonald is an incredible clown, pulling off bunny hops and shockingly spry handsprings in his henchman role as Cladwell’s stooge Mr. McQueen. As the heroic Bobby, Callahan is strangely magnetic, reeling in the audience with his clear voice and clever expressions. And Actor’s Equity ringer Jordan Barron works wonders as character/omniscient narrator Officer Lockstock. He’s superbly wrapped in braggadocio and foppishness, working with Jack Young’s Officer Barrel to play the cops as bumbling fools.
Just don’t shudder when those cops forcefully drag off a man for public peeing, one of a few comedic moments that don’t fully land when people are actually being snatched from the street.
If you can successfully keep your mind from wandering toward reality, Urinetown is nothing but hilarious. The actors lean into the silliness with perfect timing and delivery. There’s no stumbling their way into a joke, just meticulous madcap romps through this over-the-top satire that, especially when it was written in 2001, could never possibly come close to existence. But truly, the performance is impeccably done. Every element onstage hits. So for those who take comfort in comedic cliches, there’s no better way to drop out, tune in, and laugh the night away.
Urinetown
Mary Moody Northen Theatre
Through Feb. 22
This article appears in February 20 • 2026.