A Conversation with Playwright/Actor Rheagan Wallace, "Stage Mamma: From Child Star to Leading Lady," Zephyr Theatre, Hollywood Fringe, by James Scarborough

Rheagan Wallace's solo show reveals a common paradox in performing careers: those who push you toward the spotlight often cast the longest shadows. In "Stage Mamma," Wallace transforms her progression from Texas child actor to Hollywood professional into a universal story about finding independence within complex family relationships.

The production goes beyond simple memoir by using a sophisticated multimedia approach. Wallace doesn't just tell her story - she embodies it through multiple character transformations, while home videos provide evidence of her early career. This clever mix of live performance and archival footage creates tension between past and present, showing how our stories shift as we gain perspective.

What lifts "Stage Mamma" above typical coming-of-age tales is Wallace's refusal to create easy villains or victims. The mother-daughter relationship she portrays is rich with contradiction - her "mamma" simultaneously opens doors and blocks passages, nurtures and demands, empowers and controls. Wallace approaches this complexity with unexpected humor and genuine affection, finding a path to reconciliation without sacrificing honesty.

The production, developed with solo show specialist Jessica Lynn Johnson, shows how personal storytelling can reveal broader truths about ambition, identity and the nature of loving someone who both builds and constrains your world.

Below follows an email conversation with Rheagan Wallace.

JS: Your show incorporates actual home videos alongside your live performance. How did revisiting this raw footage affect how you crafted the narrative? Were there moments you discovered on film that changed your understanding of your own story?

RW: Revisiting the 8mm tapes was what launched this whole show. My dad started filming even before I was born, capturing everything leading up to and following my arrival. From the very beginning, I was performing: mirroring everything on TV, putting on solo shows in the living room. Watching the tapes back, I saw what my mom saw: the intense imagination, the gift of storytelling, the love for the camera. But more than anything, I saw how deeply loved I was. How enthralled they were with me. It helped me reconnect with that love in a new way and reframe parts of our story I hadn’t fully understood before. That deeper understanding is what shaped the heart of Stage Mamma.

JS: Throughout your career, you’ve worked with accomplished directors and actors. How did Jessica Lynn Johnson’s specialized background in solo performance help shape this project? What unique challenges did you face when embodying all the characters from your life - especially your mother?

RW: I wouldn’t have known where to begin without Jessica. When I first decided to create this show, I called my friend Tatum Langton, whose brilliant solo show REDEEMHer: How I Screwed Up My Perfect Mormon Life was developed with and directed by Jessica, and she immediately told me I didn’t need to look any further than Soaring Solo Studios. I reached out to Jessica that same day with nothing but my 8mm tapes and a burning desire to tell my story.

From the very beginning, she helped me realize that my vision was actually much clearer than I thought. She elevated it while meeting me exactly where I was at every step of the process. Jessica has an amazing gift for listening deeply, holding space, and collaborating in a way that feels intuitive and seamless. She’s truly a master at what she does.

As for embodying the characters, mirroring people has always been one of my natural gifts. I’ve spent decades studying and training in character work, so stepping into these voices and bodies feels like home to me. Especially when it comes to my mom. I’ve been mirroring her my whole life, and when I become her onstage, I can actually feel her take over. There’s something oddly comforting about bringing her into my body.

JS: Many former child actors have struggled to maintain both their careers and personal well-being into adulthood. What helped you navigate that difficult transition? How does telling this story now advance your artistic goals and personal healing?

RW: Honestly, I didn’t navigate it perfectly. It was really hard. There were a lot of highs and lows. I had to unlearn a lot of survival strategies and unhealthy coping mechanisms. What helped most was stepping away, physically and emotionally, and figuring out who I was outside of “the industry.” Therapy, activism, becoming a mom… all of that grounded me. So did failing, starting over, and learning how to step into the lead role of my own life’s story; not one someone else was writing for me.

Telling this story now is about healing; for myself, for my daughter, for my mother, for my family, and for anyone who’s ever felt unseen, unsafe, or unloved. I believe storytelling is healing, and healing is activism. Because when we speak our truths, we expose the systems, and the people who control them, that rely on our silence to survive. And they do not want to be exposed.

But when we speak out anyway, when we choose truth over silence, we not only free ourselves, we create space for others to do the same. It creates a ripple effect. And if we’re all doing it? That’s when real change happens. That’s when power shifts.

JS: The title “Stage Mamma” evokes a complex archetype in entertainment - part advocate, part exploiter. Beyond your personal experience, what broader comment are you making about the industry’s relationship with young performers and their families?

RW: That’s exactly why I chose the title Stage Mamma, because it’s loaded. The term often comes with this judgmental, eye-roll energy: overbearing, pushy, living through their child. But it’s so much more complicated than that. Yes, there are countless stories of exploitation. Those stories matter greatly and should be told over and over again—but what’s often overlooked is that a lot of these mothers were also doing the best they could with what they had. My mom wasn’t trying to live through me—at least not at first. She believed in me. She saw something in me and wanted to protect it, champion it, make sure the world saw it, too. But over time, she lost sight of it and did start to live through me. That doesn’t take away from the truth of my talent or the gifts I had—it just means she never really got the chance to recognize her own. And when your only outlet is someone else’s life, the lines can get blurry. Boundaries get crossed. And love can start to feel like pressure.

On a broader level, the industry thrives on young talent but rarely supports them, or their families, in meaningful ways. Parents have to navigate a system that is often exploitative and deeply unforgiving. And when something goes wrong, the blame tends to fall on the parents, usually the mother, when in reality, the industry is set up to benefit from that imbalance.

What people don’t talk about enough is how often the industry intentionally drives a wedge between the child and the parent. It creates a dynamic that feels like a divorce.

As a kid, you don’t know who to trust. You’re told these professionals know what’s best for your career—but what if they say, “You’d be better off without your mom”? What do you do with that? Suddenly, your advocate is seen as an obstacle. It’s very confusing. It’s isolating. And it breaks something that’s hard to rebuild.

With Stage Mamma, I wanted to challenge the binary of “advocate” or “exploiter” and show the humanity underneath. I’m not just telling my mom’s story; I’m telling the story of so many women who gave everything to protect their kids from a system that didn’t care if we got chewed up and spit out. Some got lost in that fight. Some became controlling or extreme out of fear. But most were just trying to make sure their kids were safe, seen, and successful in a world that rarely offers all three at once.

We have to start talking about these elephants in the room. Children and their families deserve better. It starts with conversations like this. Kids should be able to be working actors without being exploited. It is absolutely possible—but we have to confront and weed out the people who are preying on them. That’s the only way this gets better.

JS: Solo shows need a rare openness, mainly when playing real people from your life. How did you balance honesty with compassion when depicting difficult moments? What conversations, if any, did you have with your mother about bringing this story to the Stage?

RW: I think the key to balancing honesty with compassion is to start from love—even when the memory hurts. I didn’t write this show to call anyone out. I wrote it to call things in. To make sense of my own story, and to honor the complicated, beautiful, painful, and powerful role my mom played in it.

There were some really difficult moments between us, and I don’t shy away from them in the show at all. But I also tried to zoom out and see the full picture. My mom wasn’t just a “stage mom.” She was a survivor. A woman who never had space to explore her own creativity, so she poured all of that energy into me. She believed her gift was recognizing talent—and she did have that gift. She just didn’t always know how to separate it from control.

Before I started writing Stage Mamma, I asked my mom—out loud—for permission to tell this story. And she gave me a yes. I’ve felt her with me through every second of this process. She’s never left my corner. I think deep down, she always knew this story was coming. And I think part of her wanted it told. She accomplished so much and got no glory for it. This show is one way I get to change that.

JS: Your multimedia approach combines traditional theatrical elements with video footage. What technical or design choices were most crucial in helping the audience navigate between past and present? How did your background as both a comedian and dramatic actor influence your performance style?

RW: The home footage is such an emotional anchor for this show, so it’s important to me that the transitions between video and live performance feel seamless—like memory folding into the present. The lighting, sound, and projection cues don’t pull focus but actually deepen the emotional rhythm of the piece. I’m also using clips from my past work in television—shows I did as a child actor and teenager—which adds another layer of storytelling. The footage acts as a flashpoint for reflection, but it’s never just nostalgia. It’s there to move the story forward and let the audience witness the evolution.

As for performance style, I think my background in both comedy and drama makes it possible for this story to hold all the emotional tones it needs to. This show moves quickly between humor and heartbreak, and I really lean on my experience as a comedian to help land those tonal shifts. My stand-up background especially helps with the Narrator Rheagan voice. It allows me to be present, quick on my feet, and able to connect with the audience in a conversational way—even when the material is heavy. Comedy invites people in. It disarms them. And once they’re open, you can go deeper. You can hit them with the truth. That’s always been my sweet spot: using laughter to get to the gut punch. And this story needs both.

Performances are Sunday, June 8 at 2:15 PM, Saturday, June 14 at 3:45 PM, and Friday, June 27 at 5:30 PM. Tickets are $25. The Zephyr Theatre is located at 7456 Melrose Avenue, Los Angeles, California, 90046. For more information, click here.