Earth appears as a generous single woman with endless love to offer; Humanity is the magnetic rogue who takes far more than he gives. Their damaging romance unfolds in Hot Mess, a musical by Jack Godfrey and Ellie Coote. The show functions both as an offbeat romantic comedy with wide appeal and as a pointed metaphor for our exploitation of a once-thriving planet now pushed toward exhaustion. After becoming a sensation at the Edinburgh Fringe last summer and transferring to London, it stands at the forefront of a growing wave of musicals confronting the climate crisis.

Other productions are exploring similar ground. The RSC’s The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind transforms the real-life story of a Malawian teenager who builds a wind turbine from scrap materials into an uplifting theatrical experience filled with song and movement. Bryony Kimmings’ Bog Witch blends music and standup in a solo performance about environmental breakdown. In New York, the folk-pop musical Dear Everything, co-written by V (formerly Eve Ensler) and narrated by Jane Fonda, responded directly to the climate emergency. Even the long-running West End hit Hadestown evokes ecological ruin, its underworld littered with discarded oil drums.

Coote welcomes this surge of creative engagement. Anxiety about the planet, she notes, has become so widespread that it would be strange if artists were not responding to it. Theatre, after all, reflects the concerns of its time.

These works also resonate with a post-pandemic desire for stories about solidarity, resilience and renewed responsibility toward the Earth. While that might sound heavy-handed, Coote and Godfrey spent six years shaping Hot Mess to avoid preachiness or gloom. “We both cared deeply about the climate crisis and wanted to write about it,” Godfrey explains. “But how could we deliver the full thrill of musical theatre without turning it into a lecture or a doom-filled warning?”

Early drafts leaned toward a more serious tone, but that shifted during development. Coote recalls that presenting the show explicitly as a climate piece risked keeping audiences at an intellectual distance. When preparing the Fringe version, they asked themselves how to lower defenses and invite viewers in through comedy and emotion. By encouraging laughter and empathy first, they allowed the environmental themes to emerge naturally rather than forcefully.

Finlay Carroll, assistant producer of Hot Mess, has since founded Pollinate, a company devoted to producing climate-focused musicals. He sees no contradiction between weighty subject matter and the buoyant spirit of the genre. Entertainment and seriousness, he argues, are not opposites. Musicals have long grappled with profound themes—Les Misérables, for instance, is steeped in suffering and upheaval.

For Godfrey, the essential ingredient is emotional connection. In Hot Mess, that connection is forged through humor. Writing lyrics packed with double meanings—referencing both environmental science and romantic entanglement—allowed him to make complex ideas accessible. Audiences rarely respond to being told what to care about, he suggests. They engage when they see themselves in the story. Most people understand heartbreak, disastrous dates and the longing to find “the one.”

Luke Howarth, co-writer and director of Acid’s Reign, another musical debuting at the Edinburgh Fringe this summer, believes the genre naturally leans toward hope. Whereas many climate plays imagine bleak or dystopian futures, musicals often imply that transformation is possible.

Too often, he says, climate narratives are set after catastrophe has already struck, conveying a sense of inevitability. While apocalypse has been written repeatedly, he believes theatre should instead imagine alternatives—visions that interrupt resignation.

Carroll agrees that musicals can help audiences picture flourishing, sustainable futures. Seeing abundance and renewal onstage, he argues, can make such possibilities feel attainable in real life.

Acid’s Reign aims to embody that spirit. Combining pop anthems, glitter and unapologetic queer energy, it follows a drag supergroup—played by Victoria Scone and Gigi Zahir—that builds a following with climate-conscious songs. Their success brings a dilemma: should they soften their message to secure mainstream fame?

Howarth notes that environmentalism has sometimes been framed as anti-fun, as if activists want to shut down the celebration. His goal was the opposite: to craft something defiantly joyful. Cabaret and drag, he explains, are rooted in irreverence and in challenging authority with wit. Through lip-sync and satire, performers can reframe dominant narratives and expose their absurdities. Comedy, especially in cabaret form, can carry serious ideas without losing its sparkle.

Some critics might argue that musicals risk trivializing the climate emergency. Howarth disagrees, suggesting that the accessibility of the form actually broadens participation. Highly earnest, issue-driven theatre can unintentionally exclude those without the emotional bandwidth for intense, didactic experiences. Musicals, by contrast, invite wider audiences into the conversation.

But do these productions call viewers to direct action? Lucy Stone, founder and executive director of Climate Spring—which recently introduced a theatre prize to encourage climate-themed plays—points to research on the collective power of live performance. Audiences watching together can experience synchronized responses, even aligning heart rates, generating a shared emotional charge. A single play may not spark immediate change, she acknowledges, but collectively stories shape cultural norms, influencing what societies consider acceptable or taboo. Over time, that shift in feeling can open the door to transformation.

Carroll believes some shows will indeed galvanize spectators. Yet even offering emotional release can matter. Reflecting on his experience with Jonathan Larson’s Rent, set amid the HIV/Aids crisis, he recalls how simply absorbing the music deepened his understanding of that era. He may not have altered his behavior in a measurable way, but the empathy and awareness he gained were powerful in themselves.

Hot Mess is currently running at the Other Palace in London until 6 September. Acid’s Reign plays at Pleasance in London from 3–11 July and at Pleasance Courtyard in Edinburgh from 5–31 August.