The Sweet Resilience of 'Waitress': A Pie-Filled Odyssey of Female Solidarity
There’s something undeniably comforting about a pie. It’s simple, it’s warm, and it wraps you in a sense of home. But in Waitress, the musical currently gracing The Playhouse in Edinburgh, pies are more than just dessert—they’re metaphors for survival, resilience, and the messy beauty of human connection. Personally, I think this is what makes the show so compelling. It’s not just about a waitress baking pies; it’s about women baking their way out of despair, one crust at a time.
What immediately stands out is how the story refuses to sugarcoat its characters’ struggles. Jenna, the titular waitress, is trapped in an abusive marriage, pregnant, and seemingly stuck in a life she never wanted. Yet, her pies become her escape, her art, and her silent rebellion. Carrie Hope Fletcher’s portrayal of Jenna is nothing short of masterful. Her vocal power is undeniable, but it’s her emotional nuance that truly steals the show. When she sings She Used to Be Mine, it’s not just a song—it’s a raw, unfiltered cry of longing and self-reflection. What many people don’t realize is how rare it is to see such vulnerability on stage, and Fletcher delivers it with a commanding presence that’s both heartbreaking and empowering.
But Jenna isn’t alone. Her fellow waitresses, Becky and Dawn, form a trio that feels like the backbone of the show. Becky, played by Sandra Marvin, is the sassy, no-nonsense voice of reason, while Evie Hoskins’ Dawn is a delightful mix of awkwardness and unexpected liberation. Their relationships with the men in their lives—flawed, complicated, and often frustrating—highlight the messy realities of love and desire. Dan Partridge’s Dr. Pomatter is charming, yes, but his affair with Jenna raises deeper questions about risk, hope, and the search for something better. Meanwhile, Mark Willshire’s Earl is convincingly unpleasant, a reminder of the toxic dynamics many women endure.
One thing that I find especially interesting is how the show balances its darker themes with moments of pure joy. Mark Anderson’s Ogie, for instance, is a lovably absurd suitor whose comic courtship of Dawn is nothing short of hilarious. His persistence and quirky charm serve as a stark contrast to the heavier moments, reminding us that love can be lighthearted and unexpected. And then there’s Les Dennis as Joe, the diner owner whose gruff warmth adds a layer of paternal comfort to the story.
From my perspective, what this really suggests is that Waitress isn’t just a musical—it’s a celebration of blue-collar female solidarity. These women aren’t perfect; they make mistakes, they falter, but they always have each other’s backs. Sara Bareilles’ country-tinged score amplifies this sense of togetherness, lending the show an emotional depth that lingers long after the curtain falls. If you take a step back and think about it, the diner becomes a microcosm of life itself: messy, unpredictable, but ultimately filled with moments of sweetness.
What makes this particularly fascinating is how the show manages to feel both intimate and universal. Jenna’s story could be anyone’s story—a woman trapped in circumstances she didn’t choose, yet finding the strength to carve out her own path. Her pies, each named after an emotion or experience, become symbols of her journey. By the end, as her fortunes finally shift, the show leaves you with a sense of hope that feels earned, not forced. It’s like biting into a cherry pie—sweet, but with a hint of tartness that keeps it real.
In my opinion, Waitress is more than just a musical; it’s a testament to the power of resilience, friendship, and the small acts of rebellion that keep us going. It’s a reminder that even in the face of adversity, there’s always room for a little sweetness. And as Jenna’s story unfolds, you can’t help but root for her—not just because she deserves a happy ending, but because she’s fought so hard to bake her own.
So, if you’re in Edinburgh this May, do yourself a favor and catch this full-blooded return of Waitress. It’s a show that lingers, much like the taste of a perfectly baked pie—warm, comforting, and utterly unforgettable.
