So Fetch! SPHS Drama Club’s “Mean Girls” is Fizzy, Fearless, and Full of Heart

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South Pasadena High School Drama Club delivers a Mean Girls that’s as sparkly and sharp as a Burn Book page—until it quietly turns the mirror on all of us and asks something deeper. The result? A zippy, big-hearted production that starts as candy-colored comedy and lands as something genuinely moving.

For the uninitiated, Mean Girls follows Cady Heron, a wide-eyed newcomer to the jungle of high school cliques, who gets swept into the orbit of “The Plastics”—a glossy, ruthless trio led by queen bee Regina George. Schemes escalate, loyalties fracture, and the social food chain gets a gleeful, musical-theater makeover before the story ultimately finds its way back to empathy, identity, and what it means to be real.

Under the direction of Drama Department head Nick Hoffa, the show moves with buoyant precision—slick, seamless, and bursting with comedic timing—yet it never loses sight of its emotional core. Hoffa threads the needle beautifully, allowing the jokes to land fast and the heart to land even harder. You can feel his guiding hand in the way the production shifts, almost imperceptibly, from satire to sincerity.

And what a cast. This is a talented, ebullient ensemble that attacks every number with gusto and every scene with clarity. Leading the Plastics, June Barthelemy is delightfully hilarious as Karen, leaning into the character’s blissful cluelessness with impeccable timing. Belen Belavek brings a surprising vulnerability to Gretchen, grounding her frantic need to belong with real emotional stakes. And Riis Dickey commands the stage as Regina—vocally fierce, razor-sharp, and every inch the magnetic, cutthroat leader.

As Cady, Mina Minnal is all wide-eyed earnestness, charting a believable journey from innocent outsider to conflicted insider and back again. Opposite her, Gwyneth Daley’s Janis crackles with strength and edge, delivering a powerhouse “I’d Rather Be Me” that blends grit with heart, while Em Roberts-Mataric’s Damian is a comedic standout—quick, flamboyant, and full of verve.

Tiger Carpenter lends a gentle sincerity to Aaron, giving the love interest a welcome softness, and Aiden Garcia steals more than a few moments as the Mathletes’ rapping leader, brimming with geeky charm and confidence. Notably, all of these standout leads are seniors, capping their four years with performances that feel fully realized and deeply earned.

The production itself is a testament to student and teacher artistry. Courtney Cheyne’s choreography is fizzy, fun, and bursting with energy, perfectly matching the show’s pop sensibility. James Jontz’s bright scenic design—featuring wheeled desks, lockers, and Regina’s impossibly pink bedroom—keeps the action brisk and visually playful, while the crackerjack orchestra, led by Wylder Reinman, propels the show with driving percussion, polish and punch. Even more impressive: the entire production—costumes, props, marketing, assistant direction—was student-driven, making the achievement all the more “fetch.”

But it’s in the final moments where this production truly shines. After all the glitter, gossip, and glorious chaos, the closing number reprises “I See Stars” in a way that redefines the story’s meaning. As Cady shares her crown and invites classmates—those not always seen as stars—onto the stage, something shifts. The smiles, the surprise, the emotion on those students’ faces ripple outward into the audience. It’s a simple gesture that lands with profound impact: a reminder that everyone deserves to be seen, heard, and valued.

You could feel it in the room—laughter giving way to something softer, fuller. There were tears.

Hoffa captures it best: “In a world that often rewards ‘plastic’ perfection, being real can be a radical thing to do. Being real and rare means showing up with your flaws, your quirks, and your unfiltered messiness. It’s about recognizing your unique spark and letting it rip.” That ethos pulses through every beat of this production and culminates in a finale that feels less like a curtain call and more like an invitation.

Because in the end, Mean Girls at SPHS reminds us that worth isn’t something you’re handed—it’s something you already carry.