In Fuse Theatre Ensemble’s superb production of the Stephen Sondheim musical Assassins, John Wilkes Booth, Abraham Lincoln’s killer, is hiding in a barn that’s surrounded by federal troops. Red lights bathe the stage as the sound of flames rises until I could almost feel their ravenous heat on my face.

This is what happens when supremely talented and dedicated artists – including co-directors Rusty Newton Tennant and Sara King and their cast, musicians, crew, and designers – set out to entertain audiences while probing the inner workings of a society: They start by humanizing their characters … even when those characters are some of the most infamous people in American history.

The darkly comic 1990 musical, with music and lyrics by Sondheim and a book by John Weidman, weaves together the stories of Booth and eight other presidential assassins and would-be assassins, including Lee Harvey Oswald, John Hinkley Jr., and “Squeaky” Fromme – to question what role our American dream has played in inspiring this particular form of violence.

This is not to say that the show, which is onstage at Reed College’s Black Box Theatre and is the feature presentation of Fuse’s OUTwrite Festival, in any way excuses such attacks. Rather, it’s more like a doctor who takes their patient’s pain seriously and closely examines an X-ray to find the cause, rather than prescribing a pill that merely masks the symptoms.

While the killers in the show are clearly dealing with mental health issues as well as a craving for societal change or at least some fame, Assassins convincingly suggests that our country itself must accept some of the blame for their crimes. We see this as the Proprietor – dressed in shimmering stars and stripes (costumes by Mary Hobson) and strapped with guns galore – encourages Guiseppe Zangara (Grant Miller) to attempt Franklin D. Roosevelt’s assassination, then later cheerfully straps Zangara in an electric chair. In the world of the play, a metaphorical America is both seducer and executioner.

That sounds grim, but Fuse added another layer to the Proprietor’s role by casting the drag queen Quesa D’Mondays in the part, which seems made for them. Saucily skipping around in scarlet ankle-strap heels, the Proprietor entices each killer to take action as they sing “Everybody’s got the right to be happy,” a sentiment that has new meaning in 2025, just months after our current president banned drag performances from the Kennedy Center.

Sondheim’s compositions (played here by a six-piece orchestra conducted by Mak Kastelic) are loaded with such ironies. The play begins, for instance, with smiling spectators dressed in Americana sashes and waving in slo-mo as an invisible parade marches by to the beat of rousing music. As the patriotic march continues, though, those smiles turn into masks of anguish, suggesting that the myth of America the Beautiful isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. 

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The show also features an energetic Balladeer (Heath Hyun Houghton), who sings jaunty folk songs that fervently condemn the killers – all outcasts before they ever pulled a trigger. With the script and lyrics projected on both sides of the stage, audiences can’t miss Sondheim’s clever commentary behind the Balladeer’s assertion that, with the right attitude, “You can be what you choose.”  

Of course the musical also features guns galore, and Fuse offers ample content warnings ranging from murder to misogyny, plus one use of the N-word by Booth. To balance these elements, Tennant and his cast also dazzle us with jazz hands and sly jokes. Even the pistols are used to comic effect, such as when Sarah Jane Moore (Margo Schembre), one of Gerald Ford’s wannabe killers, admits her aim is lousy: “I couldn’t hit Taft if he was sitting on my lap.”

Tennant’s efficient set design, which is rimmed with flashy Broadway lights, makes good use of a simple bench, two chairs and rolling metal stairs, keeping our attention focused on the dynamic action. Ry Malloy’s sound effects, too, add atmosphere with train whistles, sirens and speeding traffic. Among the wittiest – and most chilling – of these noises is the carnival-game ding that sounds whenever the assassins hit their targets.

For me, the pops of gunshots were actually less disturbing than the palpable sadness of the killers. Each of them is shown as an individual with specific problems and grievances, but they are also connected by a desperate loneliness.

The play is packed with stellar performances of these unloved misfits, such as Dave Cole’s John Hinkley, Jr., the man who wounded Ronald Reagan in hopes of impressing the actor Jodie Foster. As the working-class Sam Byck (Nathan Dunkin), Richard Nixon’s would-be assassin, says in a recording he made for the conductor/composer Leonard Bernstein, no one ever listens to him. Then he adds, “maybe you could have picked up a phone.”

Perhaps the final irony of this profound production about the bitterness of disconnection is that a group of people worked together to turn the musical into a star-spangled work of art.

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Assassins will be onstage at the Black Box Theatre in Reed College’s Performing Arts Building, 3203 S.E. Woodstock Blvd., through June 15. Find ticket and schedule information here.