The Ludicrous Spectacle of Luigi: The Musical

The announcement of Luigi: The Musical, set to premiere June 13, 2025, at San Francisco’s Taylor Street Theater, has ignited fierce criticism for its crass, obvious exploitation of a still-fresh tragedy. This 60-minute “comedic” production, staged at a 49-seat venue, centers on Luigi Mangione, accused murderer of UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson on December 4, 2024. Despite its sold-out status, the musical is widely condemned as a morally bankrupt endeavor that trivializes a violent crime while it risks glorifying an accused killer.

Make no mistake, this is a shameful production. The musical’s rushed timeline, flippant tone, and opportunistic framing render it not just ludicrous but ethically indefensible, raising serious questions about art’s role in commodifying human suffering. It is exploitation by San Francisco’s farthest Leftist opportunists — and makes light of a capital murder case. It’s a mockery of justice that disregards the victim’s family.

Mangione’s crime for which he is currently jailed is a grave matter. Federal prosecutors have charged him with first-degree murder, stalking, and terrorism-related offenses, seeking the death penalty for what they call a heinous act of extraordinary violence.

Mangione, a 26-year-old accused of gunning down Thompson outside a Manhattan hotel, allegedly stalked his target for weeks, driven by grievances against the healthcare industry. Thompson’s family and colleagues are still reeling, yet Luigi: The Musical reimagines this actual tragedy as a satirical romp. Its posted synopsis describes Mangione as an “alleged corporate assassin turned accidental folk hero,” a framing that teeters on sheer romanticization.

By staging Luigi: The Musical before Mangione’s federal trial—set for December 2025—the creators show a callous disregard for both the judicial process and human grief.

The musical’s timing is a glaring misstep. Theatrical works about real crimes, like Chicago or Sweeney Todd, typically emerge years after events, allowing for reflection and some sort of resolution. Chicago, inspired by 1920s cases, debuted in 1975, giving audiences distance to engage with its satire. In contrast, Luigi: The Musical was rushed to stage in mere months, capitalizing on Mangione’s timely viral notoriety while Thompson’s death remains raw.

The risk of glorifying Mangione is another damning flaw. His cult following, evidenced by over $1,000,000 raised for his legal defense to date, reflects public frustration with healthcare, with some viewing him as a folk hero. The musical’s focus on his “accidental” heroism plays into this narrative, potentially amplifying his mythos. The sold-out show makes light of the heinous crime as it celebrates Mangione’s infamy.

The inclusion of other controversial figures in Luigi: The Musical — namely Sean “Diddy” Combs, facing sex trafficking charges (his criminal trial is now underway this week) and Sam Bankman-Fried, convicted of fraud— all together in a fictional prison cell scene compounds the issue. This satirical trio risks trivializing serious criminal allegations; these are real people whose actions have caused real harm.

The production’s small scale underscores its gimmicky nature. San Francisco’s Taylor Street Theater’s 49-seat capacity contrasts sharply with the national media frenzy, suggesting manufactured hype. The “sold out” status as evidence of morbid curiosity, not artistic merit; it’s a concept seized upon for profit. The musical’s claim to critique healthcare, tech, and Hollywood rings false when its draw is simply Mangione’s notoriety, not substantive commentary.

Defenders argue musicals exercise creative freedom, yet satire demands nuance, not the reckless humor of a production that sidesteps a victim’s pain amid an ongoing trial. Luigi producers’ claim their work doesn’t “glorify targeted killings,” yet the very premise is exploitative. It is a production that profits from pain while masquerading as art. As it takes the stage, it stands not as a cultural critique but as a shameful commodification of suffering, proving that even a small theater can cast a long shadow of offense.

Luigi: The Musical’s creators’ claims to explore “cultural questions” about fame and institutional distrust feels hollow when the show leans on campy humor, like a song about Mangione regretting a McDonald’s hash brown purchase—the site of his arrest. This is not satire, it’s cruelty.