Musicals for people who think they hate musicals

"I don't like musicals."

I hear this constantly. Usually followed by some version of: "People just randomly start singing. It's weird. It takes me out of the story."

Fair enough. But here's my theory: most people who say they hate musicals have only been exposed to a very specific type of musical. The type where characters break into elaborate choreographed numbers mid-conversation with no acknowledgment that anything unusual is happening.

That's not the only way musicals work. And if you're willing to try one more time, I've got suggestions.

Scope note: there is no public, controlled dataset on "which musicals convert skeptics." This is an opinionated starter guide based on what has worked in my own screenings and conversations.

Why musicals actually bother people

Let's be specific about the complaint. It's usually one of these:

The tonal disconnect. A serious emotional moment suddenly becomes a song and dance routine. The shift feels jarring rather than elevating.

The unrealism. In an otherwise grounded story, characters behave in ways no human would, and everyone acts like it's normal.

The earnestness. Modern audiences often prefer irony, distance, understatement. Musicals are frequently the opposite: big, sincere, unguarded.

The runtime. Many musicals feel long. Musical numbers can pad out stories that would otherwise be tighter.

These are legitimate responses. Not everyone needs to love the musical format. But if the issue is these specific qualities, plenty of musicals avoid them entirely.

The gateway drugs

These films work for skeptics because they address the usual objections head-on.

Sweeney Todd (2007)

Tim Burton's adaptation is dark, violent, and deeply strange. Nobody would call it cheerful. The songs emerge from genuine desperation and rage rather than joy. Johnny Depp performs them as character moments, not showstopper numbers.

If your objection is that musicals are too bright and happy, Sweeney Todd is the antidote.

Works for: Horror fans, people who like their entertainment grim

Once (2007)

A Dublin busker and an immigrant pianist fall into something like love while making music together. The songs happen because these characters are musicians. They'd be making music anyway. Nothing about it feels forced or magical-realism.

It was made on a tiny budget. It feels intimate, small, specific. No spectacle whatsoever.

Works for: Anyone who prefers indie films to Hollywood productions

Chicago (2002)

Director Rob Marshall solved the "why are they singing" problem by making every musical number a fantasy sequence. The songs happen in characters' heads, representing how they see themselves. The "real" scenes remain grounded.

This framing device gives permission to enjoy the spectacle without feeling like reality has been violated. (Film-music scholars usually discuss this through diegetic vs non-diegetic framing.)

Works for: People who need a logical explanation for the singing

A Star Is Born (2018)

Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga play musicians. Of course they sing. The songs happen in recording studios and concert venues. It's just what these people do for a living.

The drama comes from addiction, fame, jealousy. The music is the context, not the point. If you liked Walk the Line or Bohemian Rhapsody, you'll likely find this works the same way.

Works for: Anyone who can tolerate music biopics

Inside Llewyn Davis (2013)

Barely even a musical, really. A Coen Brothers character study about a struggling folk singer in 1960s Greenwich Village. The songs are all diegetic (happening within the story's reality) and performed simply.

More melancholy meditation than musical. But it proves songs and serious filmmaking coexist beautifully.

Works for: Coen Brothers fans, anyone who prefers understated to bombastic

The "okay, a little more musical" tier

Comfortable with the gateway films? Try these next.

Understanding your actual objection

If you've tried several approaches and still can't connect with musicals, that's perfectly fine. Not every genre works for everyone.

But it might be worth isolating what specifically doesn't work:

If the issue is unrealism: Try diegetic musicals where singing makes sense in context (concert films, musician stories).

If the issue is big emotions: Try darker musicals that don't traffic in joy (Sweeney Todd, Cabaret, Chicago).

If the issue is length: Try shorter musicals. Once is 86 minutes. The Nightmare Before Christmas is 76.

If the issue is earnestness: Try ironic or self-aware musicals (Chicago's fantasy sequences, Moulin Rouge's absurdist approach).

If you genuinely just don't enjoy watching people sing: That's fine too. Some people don't respond to the musical format the way others do, and forcing it won't help.

Why I keep recommending them anyway

When musicals work for someone who didn't expect them to, something clicks.

Songs bypass normal narrative delivery. They communicate emotion directly, in a way dialogue often can't. A character singing about grief hits differently than a character talking about grief. It's a more vulnerable form of storytelling.

And there's something uniquely communal about musicals. Singing together, knowing the words, sharing in the spectacle. It's participatory in a way most films aren't.

I've seen enough movie nights where someone walked in skeptical and left much warmer on the genre. Usually it came down to picking the right entry point.

Maybe one of these is yours.

A 20-minute skeptic test

If you're unsure, don't commit to a full runtime immediately.

1. Pick one gateway title based on your main objection.
2. Watch exactly 20 minutes with your phone put away.
3. If you're still irritated, stop and try a different subtype next time.

This is faster than forcing a full movie you already know you're resisting.

Still skeptical? Share your taste with us and we'll find something that might actually work for you.