Review: Betsy Wolfe-Led Joy Lives Up to Its Name Off-Broadway

There’s a fairytale element in Joy: A New True Musical at the Laura Pels Theatre. “Once upon a time” takes place in the 1990s, when the American Dream was something people treated as a real phenomenon. Though no one is buying that in 2025, be prepared to shed some of the cynicism in your heart. Joy is so good, it might make you believe again.

Based on the life of “Miracle Mop” creator Joy Mangano, AnneMarie Milazzo and Ken Davenport’s new musical centers around Joy (Betsy Wolfe), a harried single mother attempting to raise her daughter Christie (Honor Blue Savage) while supporting her ex-husband Tony (Brandon Espinoza), father Rudy (Adam Grupper), and mother Toots (Jill Abramovitz). Joy is the only competent one in the family— everyone else is mooching off her paycheck—so when Joy loses her job at LaGuardia, multiple generations are in trouble. Most at stake is Joy’s relationship with her daughter, who resents how little time Joy spends with her.

But of course, Joy has a dream. Since she was a kid, she’s been designing “better mousetraps,” like a reflective dog collar for nighttime walks and a hexagonal dessert holder that makes it easier to carry cupcakes. Her family makes fun of her, but Joy knows this talent will someday change her life and fix her relationship with her daughter. Soon enough, Joy is struck with a new idea: a mop with a handle that twists so people can wring it out without bending over.

Though she’s captivating when she’s downtrodden, Wolfe really wows when she gets to pair Joy’s unrelenting drive with comedy. Her adoring looks at a prototype of the mop built out of a field hockey stick are hysterical, but they’re also selling us on the idea that this could be her ticket to a new life. This drive works on most of her family too. In a song (Milazzo penned the score) where Joy slowly gets buy-in from her dad, ex, and Lorraine (Jaygee Macapugay), her father’s much-younger girlfriend whom she needs to finance her plan, Wolfe is so appealing, you’re ready to throw in money to invest yourself. Even so, she experiences failure. The mop needs a demonstration to communicate why it works so well, and stores already carry cheaper versions, so Joy isn’t getting a lot of buyers.

Finally, a very 90s breakthrough: QVC. The sequence introducing “the suits” is lowbrow and brilliant, incorporating nods to Chippendale dancers (the choreography is by Joshua Bergasse) that kept a smile on my face the whole time (though they don’t strip, disappointingly). It’s silly and charming, just self-aware enough to delight without being overbearing, highlighting the best of what Joy has to offer. “We don’t just sell products,” the businessmen sing, “We sell stories.” It takes Joy a few tries to land on the right story for her Miracle Mop, but when she does, American moms start buying in droves, and her dreams start coming true.

After the highs of the first act, the second act is weaker. The most rousing song is given to the villain, which is kind of a bummer given his misogyny, and the specifics of the patent lawsuit that drives the plot are hand-waved over. There’s no larger examination or critique of the American Dream and capitalism here; instead, the focus is on deepening the characters’ relationships. Tony and Joy reminisce about how they fall in love with a song that made me feel for them, while also internally screaming at Joy to not get back together with him. Toots opens up about her parental short failings and vows to be there for Joy in a heartbreaking number that, with Abramovitz’s layered performance, is a moving high point.

The show could have gone overboard on the costumes, sets, and accents, churning out one-note jokes about the ’90s Long Island of it all, but thankfully there’s restraint. Costumes by Tina McCartney are evocative and accurate down to the year. The styling of the chorus of Long Island moms, enhanced by hair and wigs by Liz Printz, is particularly wonderful. The two hour run time flies by under Lorin Latarro’s direction.

It’s hard to imagine a more perfect vehicle for Wolfe’s talent than this show, which allows her to stretch her soaring vocals, comedic chops, and emotional range. It’s American escapism at its finest, and every moment is enchanting. As cringe as it sounds to say it, Joy lives up to its name.