Palm Desert, CA

There are some stories that never really leave us. They live somewhere between memory and melody—familiar enough to hum, but surprising each time you hear them again. For me, How the Grinch Stole Christmas! has always been one of those stories. Maybe it’s because I’ve watched it almost every year since childhood, or because the lesson—the power of kindness and the courage to belong—feels more urgent with age. Either way, sitting in the McCallum Theatre on the first night of November, surrounded by children, parents, and grandparents humming the opening bars, I knew I was exactly where I needed to be.

I’m no Grinch when it comes to an early Christmas. I like the lights before Thanksgiving, the decorations sneaking into shop windows, and the first strains of “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch” before the turkey leftovers are cold. So when the McCallum announced How the Grinch Stole Christmas! The Musical as part of its Broadway series, I knew I had to see it.

And it did not disappoint.

The Curtain Rises: Memory and Magic

The production opens not with the green curmudgeon himself, but with an older Max—the Grinch’s loyal dog and, in this adaptation, the show’s narrator. As the aging Max walked past the old cave on Mount Crumpit, he turned to face the audience with a wistful grin. His voice—warm, seasoned, and filled with affection—set the tone. Through his eyes, we weren’t watching a villain’s redemption; we were remembering it.

That framing choice gave the production something rare: dimension. Max became the bridge between past and present, between the world of Whoville and our own. As he narrated, younger Max bounded across the stage, barking, tumbling, and tugging at the Grinch’s heart (and sleeve) in all the right ways. It was joyful, funny, and surprisingly moving.

The story unfolded much as we remember it: the Grinch plotting to steal Christmas, his dog reluctantly helping, and the Whos singing through loss with irrepressible cheer. But through Max’s narration, we saw the story as a reflection—of growth, of forgiveness, of time passing.

A Production that Dazzles Without Drowning the Heart

What truly struck me was how this show managed to balance spectacle and sincerity. The McCallum stage transformed seamlessly between snowy mountaintops and twinkling Whoville streets. Every part of the set, the backgrounds, and the set pieces, props and building were all designed to look like they came right out of Dr. Seuss original drawing. All done in black and white hand drawn details. And all of the props reminiscent of the original drawings in full color in the same style. All the production designers made the book illustrations come alive. And I have to mention the fantastical sound of the live orchestra that made everything come alive, supporting every song exceptionally. 

The costumes were as delightful as any Dr. Seuss fan could hope for: whimsical, colorful, and full of life. The Whos’ hair seemed to defy gravity (and reason), while the Grinch’s fur coat rippled with personality. The lighting design painted the stage with warmth and wonder, turning even the Grinch’s lonely cave into something strangely beautiful.

And then there was the music—both familiar and new. Classics like “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch” had the audience grinning, while newer songs like “One of a Kind” and “This Time of Year” added layers of emotional depth. They were catchy, heartfelt, and—true to Dr. Seuss’s rhythmic genius—almost impossible not to hum on the way out.

I caught myself still humming them hours later.

From Page to Stage: A Story That Keeps Growing

To appreciate how skillfully this adaptation works, it helps to remember where it came from.

Dr. Seuss first published How the Grinch Stole Christmas! in 1957, a lean 69-page parable about cynicism, community, and the possibility of change. Nine years later, on December 18, 1966, animator Chuck Jones brought it to television. Boris Karloff narrated, Thurl Ravenscroft sang the now-immortal “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch,” and the world met Whoville in glorious Technicolor.

Fast-forward to the 1990s, when composer Mel Marvin and lyricist Tim Mason created a stage version for San Diego’s Old Globe Theatre. Its success carried it all the way to Broadway in 2006, where it played to packed houses at the Foxwoods Theatre. That musical—expanded, re-imagined, but deeply faithful to Seuss’s heart—has been touring ever since, bringing its snow-covered cheer to audiences nationwide.

The Power of Max’s Perspective

Adding the voice of the older Max does something quietly profound. In the original story, Max is comic relief—a put-upon pet, loyal but weary. On stage, he becomes memory itself. Through him, the audience witnesses both the Grinch’s transformation and its legacy.

When he speaks, it’s with affection and understanding. He’s not bitter; he’s grateful. The cave he once shared with the Grinch isn’t a symbol of loneliness anymore—it’s a monument to what can change when someone’s heart grows.

It’s also a clever way to guide children through the moral without preaching. We see kindness as experience, forgiveness as reflection. Max teaches without teaching, by remembering.

The Cast: Chemistry in Every Corner

The Grinch, of course, is the gravitational center of the show. The actor’s physicality was mesmerizing—half menace, half mischief. His sly grin and elastic gestures kept the children roaring with laughter, while his quieter moments revealed the aching loneliness beneath the bravado.

Young Max was pure charm. His energy and timing made every chase scene sparkle, and his duets with the Grinch were some of the evening’s sweetest moments. The Whos were uniformly delightful—each performer seemed genuinely invested in Whoville’s joy. Their ensemble numbers were crisp, layered, and bursting with harmony.

And older Max? He anchored it all. His gentle narration, sometimes humorous, sometimes heartfelt, gave the play its beating heart. By the time he joined in the finale, the audience was cheering for him as much as for the green guy himself.

Why It Resonates

What I’ve always loved about The Grinch is how it frames transformation—not as spectacle, but as choice. The Grinch doesn’t change because someone forces him to. He changes because he listens, finally, to something larger than himself.

Sitting in the McCallum Theatre that night, surrounded by strangers who felt suddenly like neighbors, I realized that’s what theater at its best does. It reminds us that transformation isn’t the stuff of fairy tales—it’s what happens when people gather and witness a story together.

Children laughed, parents leaned in, and when the final snow fell from the rafters, the applause was thunderous. But what lingered wasn’t just the applause—it was warmth. The same warmth that grew the Grinch’s heart three sizes that day.

A Tradition Worth Keeping

For decades, the McCallum Theatre has brought some of the nation’s finest touring productions to the Coachella Valley. This year’s lineup proves why it remains the region’s cultural centerpiece. Alongside The Grinch, audiences can look forward to the Broadway hit Shucked in November, Moulin Rouge! in December, and seasonal performances from Mannheim Steamroller and Barry Manilow.

It’s a theater that knows how to treat its patrons: impeccable sound, sightlines that make every seat a good one, and a sense of community you can feel in the lobby before the lights dim. For families especially, The Grinch is a perfect introduction to live theater—a production that entertains without condescending, that dazzles without losing its moral compass.

Personal Reflections: Why We Still Need Whoville

I walked out of the McCallum into the cool November night with that song still looping in my head. But what I really carried home was gratitude.

In a world that can feel divided, hurried, and a little too cynical, a night like that reminds us what art can still do. It can make a child’s laughter contagious. It can soften the edges of adulthood. It can help us believe—if only for a couple of hours—that kindness might just save us.

Dr. Seuss once wrote, “Maybe Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store. Maybe Christmas… perhaps… means a little bit more.” Sitting there watching an older Max remember a younger Grinch’s change of heart, I realized that “more” isn’t about presents or perfection. It’s about presence—showing up, sharing space, singing together, remembering what joy feels like.

For that reason alone, How the Grinch Stole Christmas! The Musical at the McCallum Theatre deserves its standing ovation. It’s not just a show—it’s a celebration. Of story. Of spirit. Of hearts that can still grow when they choose to.