I recently saw an on-campus production of Wild Heart, a brand-new jukebox musical about the Saint of New Orleans herself, Joan of Arc. The odd nature of the musical and its handling of such an influential female figure compelled me to share my thoughts. If you’re unfamiliar, a jukebox musical is a show built around non-original, contemporary songs. Unsurprisingly, the creators of Wild Heart chose cringey early 2000s pop to fill the musical segments. Before I even saw the show, I had a feeling this was an inappropriate choice for such a grand and solemn piece of history.
Unfortunately, I was right. The show kicks off with the upbeat song Sit Still, Look Pretty, sung by a young Joan as she expresses her desire to be more than just a wife. This moment introduces the audience to a bland form of digestible corporate feminism—the kind that sells empowerment as an aesthetic rather than an action. The song completely downplays the severity of her circumstances—growing up in the midst of the Hundred Years’ War—and trivializes the plight of women in fifteenth-century Europe. While the lyrics touch on themes of breaking free from gender norms, the sugary pop delivery feels plastic and disingenuous, reducing a deeply historical struggle to a catchy, shallow anthem.
This trend continues throughout the musical, with characters casually mentioning the struggles of women as a throwaway “gotcha” moment, only to gloss over them without any deeper exploration. The show completely sidesteps Joan’s assault and abuse, the role of the saints who guided her, and the broader suffering of women in that era. Instead of dedicating any serious songs to these issues, it chooses to skate past them with surface-level nods to female empowerment.
On top of all this, the musical completely neglects Joan as a character. She remains flat and underdeveloped, given maybe five minutes of doubt in a show that runs over two hours. Unlike other historical musicals that take time to explore their protagonists’ complexities, Wild Heart offers Joan little room for introspection. When she does express herself, it’s through unserious, ill-fitting songs like Fight Song. And in the most egregious offense of all—while she is BURNING ALIVE—she sings Gotta Get Up and Try. This is Joan of Arc we’re talking about! The saint of New Orleans, the Maiden, the savior of France—and this is how her legacy is portrayed? Reduced to a hollow, corporate “girl boss” caricature?
Wild Heart had the opportunity to be a powerful, moving tribute to one of history’s most extraordinary women. Instead, it opted for a cheap, soulless spectacle that fails Joan, fails history, and fails its audience. This is yet another example of how women’s stories—especially those of radical, history-making figures—are diluted and commercialized to fit a marketable mold. If we truly want to honor women like Joan of Arc, we need to tell their stories with the complexity, nuance, and respect they deserve—not just slap on a pop song and call it empowerment.