(Dr. Phillips Center for the Performing Arts, Orlando) A very interesting tour of musical production Kimberly Akimbo filled the enthusiastic—and largely unexpecting—audience of the Walt Disney Theater on opening night, April 14, 2026. Personally, I walked into this show having not read any reviews or synopsis material, so I genuinely had no idea what I was about to experience. I didn’t know if I was getting a comedy, a tragedy, or even whether this leaned more play than musical.
With that, I was pleasantly surprised.
At its core, Kimberly Akimbo follows a teenage girl navigating the awkward, complicated realities of growing up—except Kimberly is living with a rare condition that causes her to age rapidly. Set against the backdrop of suburban New Jersey, the story blends offbeat humor with deeply human moments as Kimberly tries to carve out a sense of normalcy amidst family dysfunction, first love, and the quiet awareness that her timeline may look very different from everyone else’s. It’s quirky, yes—but underneath that, it’s quietly profound.
What really elevates this touring production is the strength of its cast, each bringing nuance and specificity to characters that could easily tip into caricature.
Ann Morrison as Kimberly delivers a remarkably grounded performance. She walks a delicate line—portraying both the innocence of a teenager and the physicality of someone far older—without ever feeling forced. Her solo moments are where she truly shines, particularly in quieter numbers where her vocals carry a sense of fragility and longing. There’s an emotional transparency to her performance that draws you in without demanding attention.
Marcus Phillips as Seth provides a perfect counterbalance. His portrayal is understated and genuine, capturing the awkward sweetness of a teenage boy who doesn’t quite fit the mold. His musical moments—especially when paired with Kimberly—feel intimate and sincere, never overplayed, which makes their connection all the more believable.
Gabby Beredo as Delia injects a burst of chaotic energy into the show. Her comedic timing lands consistently, and she manages to make even the most off-the-wall moments feel intentional rather than distracting. She’s a scene-stealer in the best way.
The family dynamic is where the show leans into its darker humor, and both Darron Hayes (Martin) and Laura Wayasz (Pattie) fully commit to the dysfunction. Hayes brings a jittery unpredictability to Martin, while Wayasz delivers Pattie with a sharp, almost biting edge—equal parts humor and discomfort. Their performances toe the line between absurd and unsettling, which fits the tone of the show perfectly.
Among the supporting teens, Skye Alyssa Friedman (Teresa) and Max Santopietro (Aaron) stand out with strong ensemble work and moments of individual charm, particularly in group numbers that require tight comedic and vocal synchronization.
Jim Hogan as Buddy and Emily Koch as Debra round out the cast with memorable supporting turns, each adding texture to the world of the show. Koch, in particular, leans into Debra’s eccentricities with confidence, creating some of the evening’s most unexpectedly funny beats.
Musically, the show doesn’t rely on big, show-stopping spectacle—instead, it thrives in its intimacy. There are a few standout solo moments from Morrison that land with emotional weight, along with small ensemble numbers that build in clever, layered ways. Rather than overwhelming the audience, the score invites you in, letting the story and characters take center stage.
What makes this production resonate is its balance. It never fully settles into comedy or tragedy—it lives somewhere in between, often within the same scene. One moment you’re laughing at the absurdity of it all, and the next, you’re caught off guard by something quietly heartbreaking.
Walking out of the theater, there’s a lingering feeling—not necessarily of sadness, but of reflection. Kimberly Akimbo doesn’t try to overwhelm you; it simply asks you to sit with its characters for a while. And in this case, that was more than enough.
With that, I was pleasantly surprised.
At its core, Kimberly Akimbo follows a teenage girl navigating the awkward, complicated realities of growing up—except Kimberly is living with a rare condition that causes her to age rapidly. Set against the backdrop of suburban New Jersey, the story blends offbeat humor with deeply human moments as Kimberly tries to carve out a sense of normalcy amidst family dysfunction, first love, and the quiet awareness that her timeline may look very different from everyone else’s. It’s quirky, yes—but underneath that, it’s quietly profound.
What really elevates this touring production is the strength of its cast, each bringing nuance and specificity to characters that could easily tip into caricature.
Ann Morrison as Kimberly delivers a remarkably grounded performance. She walks a delicate line—portraying both the innocence of a teenager and the physicality of someone far older—without ever feeling forced. Her solo moments are where she truly shines, particularly in quieter numbers where her vocals carry a sense of fragility and longing. There’s an emotional transparency to her performance that draws you in without demanding attention.
Marcus Phillips as Seth provides a perfect counterbalance. His portrayal is understated and genuine, capturing the awkward sweetness of a teenage boy who doesn’t quite fit the mold. His musical moments—especially when paired with Kimberly—feel intimate and sincere, never overplayed, which makes their connection all the more believable.
Gabby Beredo as Delia injects a burst of chaotic energy into the show. Her comedic timing lands consistently, and she manages to make even the most off-the-wall moments feel intentional rather than distracting. She’s a scene-stealer in the best way.
The family dynamic is where the show leans into its darker humor, and both Darron Hayes (Martin) and Laura Wayasz (Pattie) fully commit to the dysfunction. Hayes brings a jittery unpredictability to Martin, while Wayasz delivers Pattie with a sharp, almost biting edge—equal parts humor and discomfort. Their performances toe the line between absurd and unsettling, which fits the tone of the show perfectly.
Among the supporting teens, Skye Alyssa Friedman (Teresa) and Max Santopietro (Aaron) stand out with strong ensemble work and moments of individual charm, particularly in group numbers that require tight comedic and vocal synchronization.
Jim Hogan as Buddy and Emily Koch as Debra round out the cast with memorable supporting turns, each adding texture to the world of the show. Koch, in particular, leans into Debra’s eccentricities with confidence, creating some of the evening’s most unexpectedly funny beats.
Musically, the show doesn’t rely on big, show-stopping spectacle—instead, it thrives in its intimacy. There are a few standout solo moments from Morrison that land with emotional weight, along with small ensemble numbers that build in clever, layered ways. Rather than overwhelming the audience, the score invites you in, letting the story and characters take center stage.
What makes this production resonate is its balance. It never fully settles into comedy or tragedy—it lives somewhere in between, often within the same scene. One moment you’re laughing at the absurdity of it all, and the next, you’re caught off guard by something quietly heartbreaking.
Walking out of the theater, there’s a lingering feeling—not necessarily of sadness, but of reflection. Kimberly Akimbo doesn’t try to overwhelm you; it simply asks you to sit with its characters for a while. And in this case, that was more than enough.
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