Waitress @ Theatre Royal Brighton

Some shows arrive at the Theatre Royal Brighton like a perfectly crisped golden crust and Waitress, in its tenth anniversary production, is exactly that: warm, generously filled, and irresistible. For queer audiences there is something quietly satisfying about a musical that centres a woman's interiority so completely.

The show opens with Lorin Lattaro's choreography, each gesture as carefully measured as a tablespoon of vanilla, the whole thing humming with a precision that never feels stiff. Director Diane Paulus runs an extraordinarily slick kitchen: scene changes, costume swaps and prop choreography blend into something balletic, the Theatre Royal's intimate stage (which can easily curdle this kind of ambition) becoming instead the perfect vessel. Time and again the swirling activity resolves into a flash of pure stagecraft.

Scott Pask's sets draw lovingly on Norman Rockwell's mid-American diner world, all gingham warmth and formica nostalgia, while Suttirat Anne Larlarb's costumes are as thoughtfully garnished as the slices of cake on the plates. The accents wander a little geographically, but who cares when everything else tastes this good?

Full cast and creative credits here on the UK tour website.

The score is a layered menu of solos, duets, cheeky trios and full-company moments that produce great sound. Every single person on that stage is superb. Sandra Marvin's Becky is the worldly, wisecracking best friend we all deserve, commanding, funny, and vocally magnificent. Evelyn Hoskins brings real tenderness to Dawn, a character whose shy craving for love and connection will feel achingly familiar to anyone who has ever wanted to be seen. And Mark Anderson, as the gloriously awkward Ogie, is a comic cherry on top, his wide-eyed, stumbling pursuit of Dawn's affections had the audience in delight.

But the ingredient that elevates everything is Carrie Hope Fletcher. When she steps forward late in the second act to deliver She Used to Be Mine, a power ballad of loss, regret and buried selfhood, the auditorium stopped. It is the kind of song that reaches into your chest. It moved me, completely and without warning, to tears. For those of us who know something about suppressing who we are to survive the expectations of others, it lands like a thunderclap. Many people around me had tears running down their cheeks.

The interval buzz was the loud, women especially, reflecting their own lives back through Jenna's story. That is real connection and what theatre is for.

On paper, Waitress looks like a recipe for chaos, domestic drama, sex comedy and workplace romance tumbled into the same tin. But just as Jenna conjures brilliance from improbable combinations, this show alchemises its unlikely ingredients into something genuinely moving. It understands, with a generosity of spirit, that people are messy and contradictory and still worthy of love. The men here are written with subtle complexity, some failing, some growing, none entirely villainous. The sex scenes fizz with absurdist erotic tension, which only makes them more fun. There's a gay couple in the stage wedding and a nice nod towards LGBTQ inclusion with a flash of an old American flag backed with the Pride flag.

Does it fully explore its darker flour? Not always. The endings lean sweet. But this is a show that knows exactly what it is: a beautifully baked, perfectly portioned piece of theatre that leaves you full, warm, and grateful. Go. Take your whole chosen family. And possibly a handkerchief.

Waitress runs at the Theatre Royal Brighton until Sat 11th April

For more info or to book tickets see here: