If Voltaire were alive today, he’d be the kind of man who sipped an overpriced oat latte while doomscrolling Twitter, occasionally pausing to mutter, “I told you so”.

Since that wasn’t an option in 1759, he did the next best thing, he wrote Candide, a scathing, hilarious takedown of blind optimism that still holds up centuries later. And now, thanks to Bernstein’s dazzling operetta and a wickedly sharp production, we get to enjoy this tale of disaster, disaster, and more disaster, set to music.

This Candide is the theatrical equivalent of being hit by a series of very stylish, very funny, and increasingly large waves. The story follows Candide, an innocent young man who is repeatedly smacked in the face by fate (sometimes literally), all while clinging desperately to the belief that, surely, this is all part of some grand, perfect plan. Spoiler: It is not.