'The Baltimore Waltz' Blends Laughter and Loss with Wild Whimsy and Wrenching Wit

The 5 & Dime’s, The Baltimore Waltz opens with Kristen Walsh as Anna, an elementary school teacher blindsided by a devastating diagnosis that she is terminally ill. Instead of resignation, Anna decides she will seize every pleasure Europe has to offer. Her plan is to embrace life in the most hedonistic way possible, abandoning her old rules and letting desire set the itinerary. What unfolds is not a straightforward journey but a wild, hallucinatory romp: whimsical, raunchy and bursting with the kind of logic found only in dreams.

Carl, her devoted brother, played by A.J. Heekin, takes on the role of both co-conspirator and caretaker. While Anna pursues a spree of wild encounters and forbidden indulgences, Carl orchestrates their journey with a quieter, more desperate urgency. He’s on a mission of his own, tracking down specialists, gathering medical information and clinging to the hope that somewhere, someone might have a cure.

Adding to the mayhem, the production unleashes Sam Cobean as the Third Man, a one-man comic army who transforms into more than a dozen characters. He bounces from eccentric doctors to sly hotel clerks to sinister strangers, each role delivered with its own distinct accent, posture and level of ridiculousness. Every time he reappears, the energy shifts, making the stage feel boundless and unpredictable.

Paula Vogel’s script uses this riotous, off-the-rails European adventure as a screen for something much deeper. The play was born out of the playwright’s grief after losing her brother Carl to AIDS, and beneath the bawdy comedy is an undercurrent of sorrow and longing — the unmistakable ache of a sister mourning the brother she could not save. Woven through the humor is Vogel’s own guilt and longing for the trip they never took together. Vogel wraps her pain in outrageous humor, inviting the audience to laugh even as the true emotional stakes gradually reveal themselves.

Yet the laughter in The Baltimore Waltz isn’t just an escape; it’s also a weapon. The imaginary illness that propels Anna’s journey is an unmistakable stand-in for AIDS, a disease that was shrouded in secrecy, stigma and bureaucratic indifference during the 1980s and 90s. Vogel’s absurd plotlines and deliberately nonsensical logic become allegories for the confusion, denial and desperation that marked the early years of the AIDS crisis. The revolving doors of eccentric doctors, quack cures and endless red tape slyly lampoon a government and medical system that failed to act, forcing families like Vogel’s to navigate loss in isolation.

With every ridiculous twist, the play exposes the real absurdity: a world where compassion and urgency are replaced by bureaucracy and farce. By wrapping biting social criticism in a carnival of jokes, disguises and mistaken identities, Vogel invites the audience not just to laugh but to reckon with the cruelty of indifference and to recognize the human cost hidden behind the comedy.

Director Kate McManus brings clarity and intention to every scene, balancing moments of madcap comedy with undercurrents of sorrow. Her set design is both simple and clever, a two-level, matte black structure with entrances and exits that keep the audience guessing. The space becomes a flexible backdrop for fantasy and memory, transforming with the actors’ energy. Rather than settling for the usual plywood box solution, the production makes a thoughtful choice with a real mattress, lending the many bedroom scenes a surprising degree of realism and comfort that grounds even the most surreal moments.

Kristen Walsh, as Anna, becomes a study in transformation. With remarkable mastery, she navigates a vast palette of emotions, shifting from one extreme to the next with breathtaking agility, as effortlessly as selecting a hue on a color wheel. Walsh embodies Anna so completely that every subtle change registers in her body and expression, creating a performance that feels immediate and alive. Her physical and emotional agility grounds the production, inviting the audience to connect with Anna’s journey on an immediate, almost visceral level.

A.J. Heekin’s Carl is tough yet gentle, shaping the sibling relationship with understated warmth and resolve. Heekin’s performance gives Carl depth and dimension — never a cipher or a sidekick, but a steady presence in Anna’s whirlwind. The play’s central bond is both affectionate and complicated, and Heekin navigates those layers with authenticity and restraint.

Sam Cobean delivers a gleeful burst of energy as The Third Man, shifting through a kaleidoscope of characters with zest. His accents and dialects are sharp and entertaining, but it’s his sense of play that keeps every scene unpredictable. Cobean’s comic timing and willingness to leap between personas ensure that the world of the play feels boundless.

As a whole, this production of The Baltimore Waltz offers more than clever comedy or heartfelt drama. It invites audiences to witness the messy, complicated process of holding on to laughter in the face of loss. The cast, under McManus’s direction, taps into both the vulnerability and absurdity at the play’s core, resulting in an experience that is by turns raucous, tender and quietly devastating. Few productions manage to balance comedy, heartbreak and pointed social commentary with such daring. The artistry and honesty on display make The Baltimore Waltz a show that deserves a full house every night.

The Baltimore Waltz runs Friday, June 13 through Saturday, June 21 at the The Florida Ballet.

For more information, full cast and crew credits and links to tickets, visit the The Baltimore Waltz page here on JaxPlays.