SYNOPSIS

In 1957, Laika - a stray dog from Moscow - became the first living creature to orbit Earth, launched aboard Sputnik 2 by the Soviet Union. Laika on B612 reimagines her story through the lens of fantasy and allegory.

The musical opens with Caroline (also called Joya), a heartbroken Soviet scientific officer involved in Laika’s training. As the Sputnik 2 launch is announced to the press, a reporter asks whether the training was harsh or inhumane. A military officer silences the question, and the stage falls into darkness.

Inside the spacecraft, Laika innocently believes she’s been a good dog and imagines she’ll be rewarded with treats or a walk. But soon after launch, she loses consciousness. Far away in the universe, the Little Prince, the Rose, and the Baobabs await a mysterious rocket’s arrival on their planet, B612.

Laika regains consciousness as the rocket lands. When she steps out, she finds herself transformed — her nose has changed, her tail is gone, and she now walks on two legs. She worries that she won’t be able to run back to Caroline using only two feet. The inhabitants of B612 — whom she mistakes for humans — gently correct her. The Prince tells her that calling them “humans” would be an insult; they are Beings (존재들). Though they know the truth of her journey, they choose not to tell her, fearing it would cause her grief.

Laika longs to return to Earth and asks the Prince to repair the rocket. Instead, he constructs a Rocke-bot using parts from Laika’s craft and debris from earlier space missions. The Rocke-bot, who resembles Caroline, is like an AI encyclopedia and chatbot in one. Laika is crushed to learn that her rocket was never meant to return to Earth. Even more devastating is the realization that Caroline knew this from the beginning. Laika feels deeply betrayed. Furious and disillusioned, she joins the Prince in his plan to destroy Earth by redirecting an asteroid’s orbit to cause a fatal collision.

To set the plan in motion, Laika powers a generator that will help them reach the “snake hall,” a portal-like tunnel leading to the asteroid. As they prepare, Laika begins to question their plan. She realizes that destroying Earth would mean killing not only humans but countless innocent animals as well. Disturbed by this, she confronts the Prince. When he insists the sacrifice is necessary for the greater good, Laika tells him he is becoming just like a human — the very kind he despises.

She confides in the Rocke-bot, who reflects that knowledge alone may not help Beings. The bot then reveals why the Prince once left the Rose. Hearing this for the first time, the Rose — deeply hurt yet quietly accepting — tells Laika that after the Prince returned, their relationship had changed.

The Prince shares more of his past: he had visited Earth twice — first 22 years ago, when he met Saint-Exupéry, and again 13 years ago, hoping to see him once more. On his second visit, he fell near the Mediterranean Sea and encountered Rippert, a German pilot allied with Italy. Rippert mistook the Prince for an Italian boy, but as he listened to his tale, he realized it echoed The Little Prince, his favorite book, written by his hero, Saint-Exupéry. During a flight together, Rippert spotted an enemy aircraft and shot it down — only to discover afterward that it was Saint-Exupéry’s plane. Rippert was shaken by the realization that he had killed the man he most admired.

The Prince, in turn, returned to B612, wondering if he had chosen the right time to visit — and whether things might have turned out differently. From his planet, he watched Earth and its broadcasts, gradually absorbing the cruelty of humankind. In time, he resolved to destroy the Earth.

Laika, however, no longer believes in vengeance. She asks only to see Caroline once more. The Prince, moved, agrees to accompany her. The rose takes his own petal and gives it to Laika and the Prince as parting gifts. It is Moscow in 2008, and the elderly Caroline is placing flowers at Laika’s statue. Laika comes out of a box like the one Saint-Exupéry once drew to hold a sheep, and barks behind Caroline, who turns and gasps in recognition.

Back on B612, another rocket approaches — this time carrying a monkey. Laika welcomes the newcomer with a smile, saying she’ll “supervise” her and help her adjust to life on B612. The Prince, the Rose, and the Baobabs dance together joyfully with Laika and the monkey. The show closes with a note that 50 animals were once sent into space — 17 of them now live on B612. The planet is home to more dogs than Baobabs.


REVIEW

I wasn’t planning to attend Laika on B612. As someone who deeply cherishes The Little Prince, I was wary of any adaptation that might try to reinterpret or revise it. The idea of an aging, disillusioned Prince felt almost sacrilegious. But as I’ve committed to exploring Korean original musicals more openly, I gave it a chance.

To my surprise, the show didn’t diminish the novel I loved — even though I was disappointed by the thin justification for the Prince’s character shift. In Act I, I was apprehensive, but by the middle of Act II, I found myself able to detach this musical from the original book. It created something entirely different — deliberately far enough to leave Le Petit Prince untouched. I still have my own copy, and it remains intact in my heart. Laika on B612 didn’t replace it, but it added something new to my experience of musical storytelling. And for that, I’m glad I went.

When I decided to open my webpage, I realized I hadn’t seen enough Korean original musicals to justify a dedicated section. Initially, I planned to attend as many as possible. But after a few visits, I changed my mind. I won’t attend every Korean original musical just for the sake of coverage. I choose productions that either spark genuine interest or challenge my perspective — but I draw the line when the premise feels fundamentally misaligned with the spirit of the source work. Laika on B612 was one of the shows I had reserved before changing that mindset. I hesitated to go because I was worried about the reinterpretation of The Little Prince — and because the story centered on a dog. That alone could have been too much, reminding me of my own dogs. I wished they were no longer in pain and hoped they’re resting peacefully.

Laika on B612 turned out to be a surprisingly well-crafted Korean original musical, with catchy melodies, memorable characters, and a thoughtful reinterpretation of Laika’s legacy. Songs like “One zero zero, zero zero one,” sung by the Rocke-bot with shifting tone and autotune-like reverb, were both clever and musically engaging. Laika’s solo numbers had particularly strong melodies that captured her innocence and emotional journey. The Rose’s scenes featured rhythmic drum-driven beats, a deep baritone voice with strong high notes, and dynamic movement. Casting a male actor in the role was unexpected — and a great choice. For the Rocke-bot, the use of synthesized tones and vocal effects gave the character a distinct timbre, clearly separating it from Caroline, even though both were portrayed by the same actor. Guitar riffs, piano, violin, cello, and a full drum set were clearly heard — though possibly synthesized or pre-recorded, as no orchestra pit was visible. At times, actors’ recorded lines were heard through the speakers while they stood silently on stage, suggesting a hybrid use of live and pre-recorded sound.

Laika was the emotional anchor — embodying both canine loyalty and a purity more innocent than human. Fortunately, the performance avoided over-exaggerated “dog acting,” which could have been awkward. Scenes involving Laika as a dog were performed through narration, with the Being-version of Laika standing beside the action. The Rose, played by a tall male performer, was a standout with expressive movement, rich vocals, and a clear emotional arc — showing renewed self-worth after the Prince’s departure and eventual return. The Prince felt more like a 30-something adult than a child. He wore a pink suit, green shoes, and carried a cane, like an animation character, but spoke in technical language and carried the bitterness of someone deeply disillusioned by humankind. His motivation to destroy Earth wasn’t explained convincingly — it felt too far-fetched. And when Laika persuaded him not to follow through, it happened so quickly that it made the conflict feel a bit tame. Still, this was the moment I felt relief — a confirmation that this was not my petit prince. He simply couldn’t have done such a thing.

As a partial tribute to The Little Prince, the show takes considerable liberty. The depiction of an aging, jaded Prince may feel jarring to some, especially those who hold the original dear. The Baobabs served as a strong ensemble, with well-balanced harmonies and movement. Yet the story stays distant enough that it does not tarnish one’s love for Le Petit Prince. I still keep mine untouched — in my mind and heart.

One more thing worth noting: I felt the show tried to deliver too many take-home messages — as if instructing the audience on what they should learn. These forced morals made me uncomfortable. Did The Little Prince ever tell us what to think? Did the novel explicitly explain how to make friends, or declare that self-esteem is important? No. Not at all. The book simply narrated what happened — and somehow, we understood. Not by being told, but by feeling. Lessons don’t last because they’re spoken. They stay with us only when they’re genuinely felt and logically grasped — engraved not by instruction, but through both emotional resonance and intellectual digestion. Stories speak deepest when they leave space for the audience to connect the meaning on their own — not when they dictate what that meaning should be.

The final scene, in which Caroline explains that the story was all a dream, felt like too much. Please don’t. It served as a device to excuse the thematic jumps, character inconsistencies, and departures from both historical fact and the original book. The final lines threatened to disillusion the whole experience.

Even with the Prince’s narrative arc and the questionable final scene, this production offered strong musical writing with a mix of classical, band, and electronic elements. It featured clever plot devices, and its blend of fiction and nonfiction — while daring — was, for the most part, well executed.