In an age where every major company has its own streaming company, it’s hard to keep up with every exciting new show coming out. While we’ve all agreed that Quibi is a waste of time, there’s something to be said for the other big names like Disney+ and NBC’s Peacock. Not only are they producing attention-grabbing content, but they’re also getting Emmy nominations and proving that the future is digital.
Among the higher-profile services is Apple TV+ which, for the most part, is just appetizing enough to not ignore but also inconsequential enough that you’re not losing sleep over not having an account. Sure you won’t be able to see the new Tom Hanks movie Greyhound (2020), but there’s plenty of reason it went to Apple TV+ to begin with.
Though for me, there is something compelling about the series Little Voice. I’m not saying that it will revolutionize the platform, but it immediately grabs my attention because of who’s involved: Sara Bareilles. Over the past few years, I have fallen more in love with her as an artist, capable of making these quirky pop ballads that hit a sweet spot between whimsical and melancholy. She’s brought plenty of that energy here and I’ll say that for the most part, it’s fine. I’m sure there are better shows (is Central Park good?), but I love how it mixes music and recognizes several actors on the autism spectrum. It’s encouraging to see recognition like that.
But ultimately why I love Bareilles is because of one of the few musicals that closed on Broadway BEFORE everybody was forced into hiatus. Waitress is a show that is deserving of endless acclaim, presenting a story so flexible that even weatherman Al Roker could do a weeks-long stint in a small role. It speaks to the heart of theater, bucking the trend of movie-to-stage adaptations by presenting something heartfelt and pure, managing to create an intimacy that these stories don’t often reward. It’s a labor of love, so infused with Bareilles’ DNA that she could release her own album covering these songs called “What’s Inside.”
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If there’s any issue with Waitress, it’s that it will forever exist in the shadow of Hamilton. Both came out in 2015 and earned varying degrees of acclaim. Though where Waitress was small, Hamilton was big. In fact, it remains big. There’s probably a Disney+ account at this very second playing it right now. Open your window. They’re probably starting the battle of Yorktown.
As a result, Waitress can’t help but feel like this scrappy underdog musical. It’s a story about a small-town waitress in an abusive relationship who becomes pregnant. You wouldn’t expect a story like that to be nearly this whimsical, so full of humor and warmth, as it gives arguably some of the richest roles for women in any musical of the decade. Every character is equal parts comedic folly as they are emotionally complex, reflecting insecurities that inform how we make decisions and search for acceptance. There isn’t a dull character in this. Even goofus boyfriend Okie is the right level of aw-shucks.
A central premise for the narrative involves protagonist Jenna Hunterson escaping her problems through pie-making. Every time that she faces an obstacle, she would enter into an aside, an apron appearing out of nowhere as a tender voice sings “sugar, butter, flour.” It’s her form of meditation, and as she creates a pie reflective of her current condition, she throws in these symbolic ingredients, reflecting the most perfect example of how we escape through these hobbies that require focus. Jenna is a great baker. It’s what makes her important to Joe’s Diner. She is beloved for what she gives the world, which is pies.
Small details line the stage, such as columns either side of the curtain of rotating display of pies. The central diner is often populated with extra actors. Off in the corner, you’ll occasionally get an orchestra. It feels lively like you’re dropping into this mom and pop restaurant on a random day. Anyone can walk in and there will be this sunny nature. Even if you have no awareness of what Waitress is, you’ll feel at home by the end of the opening number “Opening Up” from how a dance choreographed to delivering food to tables says so much implicitly about every character’s playful and sometimes antagonistic nature.
It’s here that Bareilles truly shines. If you’re familiar with her pop hits, you’re going to have some idea of what’s inside. Even then, there’s so much more lyrical wit than normal, allowing for songs like “Never Ever Getting Rid of Me” to make you smile as you get this weirdly possessive man to talk about family history tests and having a cat named Sardine (“I thought it was funny to name a cat a kind of fish”). With that said, there are songs like “When He Sees Me” where you also get the longing and anxiety of the characters, nervous about potentially throwing away their lives on a stalker boyfriend.
It’s a story that understands emotion on such a human level that it fluctuates between tone effortlessly. It’s a show that can feature numbers like “Club Knocked Up” alongside “She Used to Be Mine.”
If there’s any song that deserves to enter the pantheon of absolutely essential musical songs, it’s “She Used to Be Mine.” As Bareilles’ finest piece of songwriting, she captures Jenna at her most vulnerable, her relationship falling apart and she’s left potentially a single destitute mother. As she sings about her life, you are ravaged by the pain of an uncertain future, ruined by a few bad decisions. It’s unlikely that you’ll get through it without a tear, even as she sings from the couch of a house that no longer feels like a home. I’d argue that it may even transcend Broadway one day, not unlike Les Miserables’ “I Dreamed a Dream.” For now, it’s evidence that Waitress is an incredible show hiding a ton of incredible talent.
The only thing sadder about this story than the aforementioned song is the story of the movie it’s based on. If I’m being honest, Waitress (2007) is a great movie that you should watch. It’s one of those late-00’s indies that has a scrappy, sometimes crass charm that tells such a provocative story. Even when compared to the other pregnant comedies of the year – Knocked Up (2007) and Juno (2007) – I’d argue that it’s one of the most mature and insightful, reflecting something honest underneath the dry humor. It’s maybe what’s best reflected in the film in the musical.
It’s just a shame that this is also the part of the story where its writer-director Adrienne Shelly’s story ends. In a moment that should’ve been the escalation of a great career, she was strangled in her apartment on November 1, 2006. She didn’t even get to see her film play at Sundance in two months. At the age of 40, her story ended and suddenly this quirky little drama had a morbid subtext that is difficult to escape.
It’s the type of narrative that sounds like a tragic conclusion for this story. Outside of some Spirit Awards, it’s become an obscure fan favorite. Maybe that is why Bareilles chose to adapt the story, giving Shelly’s story a second chance at life, capable of continuing to grow and change with each new performance. She was going to give several actresses a chance to shine every night, rotating through supporting figures (including Bareilles herself).
One could argue that it was a marketing gimmick, but that’s how durable Waitress is compared to Hamilton. With Hamilton, you have certain expectations (Miranda IS Hamilton). For Waitress, every part is interchangeable, capable of various interpretations. This isn’t reflective of a flimsy role, but arguably a very strong one. With the blessing of Shelly’s husband, Bareilles used personal notes from Adrienne Shelly to flesh out characters and make the world more exciting. After all, everyone knows someone who worked at a restaurant. It’s not an elitist field.
It’s exciting to know that everyone will have their own special version. Even if the text will remain largely the same, there are small acting decisions that will make you see something special about the show. It takes a real-life sad story and finds ways to celebrate her voice without pandering to altruism. These characters are flawed, and yet they feel so real and uplifting by the end. They’re the support group you want on your side if you ever needed a helping hand. What this lacks in theatrics (which isn’t much) it more than makes up for in humanity. What other show is so committed to its concept that it released a cookbook?
I come speaking the praise of Waitress because I discovered it during its first official tour in 2018. When it played at The Segerstrom Theater in Costa Mesa, CA, I was lucky to see the show around Thanksgiving. It’s the type of show that encourages festive behavior, what with cooking and communal gatherings. Everything about the atmosphere was lovely. As I looked at the curtain, itself donned in pie-based imagery, I wondered if this was going to live up to the movie. This was one of the few cases where it maybe exceeded it.
I love the show and would eagerly await any future adaptations. I love listening to every cover and the umpteenth recasting was a delight to discover on their Facebook page. I loved being in this world, and the soundtrack has only grown with each listen. What should be a grating cutesy show ended up being one of the most beautiful odes to women and the value of baking as a form of relief. It understands characters so well and the music will keep your toes tapping. Considering that we weren’t that far off from Bareilles co-hosting The Tony Awards with Josh Groban AND starring in the excellent Jesus Christ Superstar Live, I was at the height of loving her. Even her song for Julie’s Green Room makes me feel good.
That is why I’m eager to see more from her. I am looking forward to whatever comes of Little Voice, and maybe a potential return to Broadway. If nothing else, I encourage you to track down the album (either version) and get a whole new group of show tunes stuck in your head. It’s one of the best musicals of the past decade, and I hope it will find another life now that it’s not going to be on Broadway. Even when things return “to normal,” it will have quite the road back to travel.
I would love to stay and write some more about this great show, but I can smell my pie starting to brown in the oven. I won’t tell you what’s inside. You’ll have to come over and share it with me to find out.
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