Unfaithful characters are usually hard to root for, but composer-lyricist Sara Bareilles’ 2016 musical Waitress complicates that assumption with humour and a whole lot of heart. Co-produced by Hamilton’s Theatre Aquarius and London’s Grand Theatre, this Canadian production of the Broadway show leans into the material’s messy moral dilemmas, and is unafraid to get a little steamy.
At the story’s heart is Jenna (Julia McLellan), a waitress and expert pie maker working in a small-town diner in the American south. She’s stuck in an abusive marriage with her controlling husband Earl (Lawrence Libor), and finds solace in the support of fellow waitresses Becky (Stacey Kay) and Dawn (Elysia Cruz). Early on in the show, Jenna discovers she’s pregnant, and soon becomes entangled in a messy, emotionally complicated romance with her gynecologist Dr. Pomatter (Kamyar Pazandeh).
Generational trauma is the underlying theme of Jessie Nelson’s book. Jenna’s experience with domestic violence mirrors her mother’s, highlighting the difficulty of escaping cyclical cycles of abuse. The show’s musical charm and sharp sense of satire help balance these heavier themes. A prominent example is the budding relationship between Dawn and Ogie (Tyler Pearse), a tap-dancing, asthma-puffer-inhaling oddball with a heart of gold. Their scenes together are completely nutty, but also delightful.
The cast and creative team deliver across the board. McLellan skilfully brings Jenna to life, never overplaying the character’s pain (and with an absolutely beautiful voice to boot). She does so by grounding Jenna’s pain in quiet gestures and subtle shifts in tone, avoiding the melodrama that the role could easily invite. Cruz and Kay are scene-stealers in their own right, imbuing their roles with impressive vocal power and spot-on comic timing. And Peter Millard delivers a strong performance as Joe, the pie shop’s grumpy old owner, bringing a dry wit that ensures his many unexpected one-liners land every time.
Genny Sermonia’s choreography has a playful energy that, to me, makes it more fun and engaging than Lorin Latarro’s Broadway version (based on my viewing of the pro-shot). Rather than leaning into overly stylized or contemporary trends, Sermonia embraces clean and satisfying movement, bringing old-school musical theatre flair to life. Box steps, kick-ball-changes, bevels, and lifts aren’t just entertaining but help to move the show along and aid transitions between scenes and sets.
Rachel Peake’s direction is equally strong. The pacing is fluid and clean, with transitions that never feel forced. These transitions flow naturally with assistance from Sermonia’s choreography, incorporating movement-rich sequences in which cast members complete one scene atop of a shifting platform as the next is getting ready to unfold. Peake also handles the show’s emotional shifts with care, allowing space for both laughter and vulnerability to fully resonate.
A live band, with musical direction by Patrick Bowman, plays behind the diner set, dimly lit so they just appear as shadows (lighting design is by Michelle Ramsay). It’s a subtle but effective design choice that keeps the music present while supporting the production’s warm, lived-in feel. The score blends pop, folk, and musical theatre influences, with standout songs including “Negative” — a fast-paced comedic trio that captures the humour and stress of having to take an unplanned pregnancy test.
With scenic design by Scott Penner, the visual world of Waitress conjures the modest allure of a real small-town diner. Metal racks lined with sacks of flour, spices, jars, pie tins, and rolling pins frame the entire stage, making the space appear both expansive and alive. Inside the frame sits a diner with checkered floors, chalkboard specials, and cosy booths. The costumes seem simple and yet character-driven, helping the audience to immediately understand who these people are and where they come from.
One of the small touches I appreciate in this production is the chalkboard on the diner set, listing the “pie of the day.” While scenes play out downstage, characters occasionally slip upstage to update the chalkboard. Jenna names each pie, reflecting on the emotional highs and lows that she’s navigating. From “Betrayed by My Eggs Pie” to “White Knuckle Cream Pie,” these titles offer quietly hilarious commentary.
When I first watched the pro-shot, I remember being struck by the show’s American-ness — especially how Jenna’s story is framed through the lens of “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,” a phrase spoken in the show and thematically echoed in the narrative. Peake’s production doesn’t shy away from this, even featuring a rainbow American flag at one point. When Gwen Caughell reviewed the production at the Grand Theatre for Intermission back in April, she argued that the rainbow flag complicates the production’s nostalgic representation of Americana, offering what she called a “skeleton key” to the show’s queer subtext.
I appreciate Caughell’s reading, but I didn’t experience the prop in the same way. To me, the flag’s inclusion felt more like a symbolic gesture than something that reshaped the production’s fundamentally straight narrative, and the characters registered as more eccentric than subversive to me. Still, the themes of Waitress — domestic violence, economic precarity, the struggle to build self-esteem — aren’t uniquely American; rather, they’re wide-reaching enough to resonate in Canada too.
With lines like “I do stupid things when I’m drunk like sleep with my husband,” Waitress is blunt, weird, and laugh-out-loud funny. The show hits the right notes for me: heartfelt, comedic, sometimes romantic. Peake’s production stands up to its Broadway counterpart and makes for a truly delightful night out.
Waitress runs at Theatre Aquarius until May 18. Tickets are available here.
Deanne Kearney is a participant in What Writing Can Do: The 2025 Musical Theatre Critics Lab, a collaboration between Theatre Aquarius’ National Centre for New Musicals, the Grand Theatre, and Intermission.