It’s a summer evening in 2023 when the lights go down at The Sunderland Empire, but when the spotlights come up, the 1800-stong audience finds themselves in Westerburg High School, 1988.

Veronica Sawyer, played by the inimitable Jenna Innes, is struggling through her final year of high school, hoping to survive the cliques, parties, and pep rallies, and coast it out until she makes it to college.  

A ticket to a smooth ride through senior year appears when she strikes an unlikely friendship with the Heathers (Verity Thompson, Elise Zavou, Billie Bowman) – a trio of the most odious and popular bullies the school has to offer. But when she falls in love with the misfit new kid, JD, played by Jacob Fowler, this goes out the window.

The teenage lovers hatch a plan to teach high school a lesson and, instigated by JD, plot to kill off the high-school bullies, fobbing off their deaths as suicides protesting society’s cruelty. Veronica is right, her “teen-angst bulls***” really does have a body count.

The Northern Echo: Veronica and JD.Veronica and JD. (Image: PR)

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Weirdly, despite the deaths and chronic misanthropy, the cautionary tale of teenage self-centredness makes a fantastically poppy night out. At times, the show is shockingly violent – but the audience drinks in the dark, giggling all the way.

Heathers (the film, starring Winona Ryder and Christian Slater, and the show’s source material) has been a cool-kid cult classic, a Breakfast Club alternative for the truly cynical adolescent, since first featuring on cinema screens in 1988.

Heathers (the musical, starring Jenna Innes and Jacob Fowler) is no different, the dress circle brimming with teenagers in primary colour blazers, clutching croquet mallets. The majority of the audience was born at least 15 years after the black teen comedy initially hit the screens.

It’s a parody of teenage angst – but like all parodies, it is based on truth. The immeasurable cruelty of Heather Chandler (Verity Thompson) rings true, and the depiction of the rat race to the top of the popularity pyramid, illustrated by Billie Bowman singing “Lifeboat”, makes the musical interminably relatable.

It does feel a bit like a musical on fast-forward; there’s not much dialogue, though the dialogue that is there has an immense quotability - regrettably, and much to the chagrin of everyone in my life, “what’s your damage?” is destined to become part of my lingo.

The show treads a fine line between grunge angst and campy colourfulness. “Our Love is God” an ode to overdramatic teenage love, is serious and a little sad, but any audience hang-ups are quickly remedied by “My Dead Gay Son”, sung by Conor McFarlane and Jay Bryce, which gets the biggest cheer of the night.

It’s not quite the same feel-good kind of production as a jukebox musical, but despite the casualties, we all rise in a standing ovation when the production blows – I mean, wraps – up.

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The hardcore anarchy can sometimes feel at odds with the bright musical jolliness – especially when you have the salaciously witty and dark 1988 film in the back of your brain – but the glossiness of production works.

The film’s commentary on the white picket fence Reaganite American dream is lost, but steeped in foot-tapping hooky songs, the show is still a brilliant night out. The juxtaposition between the proto-grunge source material and the overwhelmingly sparkling musical numbers toes the line between edgy and a show that genuinely works on a national theatre tour.

It’s kitschy and garish. It’s a camp cult classic. It’s bloody good fun.

  • Heathers is at the Sunderland Empire until June 24, 2023. Tickets can be booked through ATGtickets.com/sunderland. A £3.65 transaction fee applies to online bookings.