Life-affirming, powerful and incredibly fun musical anchored by a stellar Menchu Lauchengco-Yulo emerges as one of the best of the year.

Every so often, a musical comes along that simply knocks the wind out of you through sheer sincerity. In their final show of their 2025 season, Pangdemonium’s Kimberly Akimbo achieves that, one of the best shows of the year that is both hilarious and unexpectedly profound. It’s the kind of show that sneaks up on you, makes you laugh until your sides hurt, and then quietly breaks your heart before piecing it back together again, and easily one of the best shows of the year.

Originally a 2001 play by David Lindsay-Abaire, Kimberly Akimbo was reborn as a Tony Award-winning musical in 2021, with music by Jeanine Tesori. On paper, its premise sounds almost absurd: a teenage girl with a rare genetic condition that causes her body to age four times faster than normal, leaving her with the appearance of a sixty-year-old. Yet in Pangdemonium’s hands, what could have been maudlin or silly becomes moving, mischievous, and magnificent.

When we meet Kimberly Levaco (“first lady” of Philippine musical theatre Menchu Lauchengco-Yulo), she and her dysfunctional family have just moved to a sleepy town in New Jersey following an “incident” that the show leaves to our imagination. Her mother, Pattie (Rebekah Sangeetha Dorai), is heavily pregnant, self-absorbed, and perpetually self-pitying, and her father, Buddy (Benjamin Chow), is an unreliable, alcoholic man-child. Later on, her aunt Debra (Frances Lee) arrives in town, and proves herself a chaotic schemer whose good intentions are constantly undermined by her own greed. Amid the domestic madness, Kimberly tries to survive high school, loneliness, and the looming awareness of her short lifespan. When she befriends Seth (Zachary Pang), an awkward tuba player who loves puzzles and anagrams, and she begins to imagine a different kind of future, defined by courage and joy rather than fear.

One of the miracles of Kimberly Akimbo is how it transforms what feels like a cartoon into something tenderly and disarmingly human. Under Tracie Pang’s assured direction, the show begins as quirky comedy but gradually deepens into something more profound. Every character starts as a caricature: loud, selfish, or oblivious, but develop into the achingly relatable. Tracie masterfully balances humour and pathos, ensuring that laughter never undercuts emotion, keeping both in a careful balance. Her pacing is deft, her blocking dynamic, and she finds the perfect rhythm between chaos and stillness.

Take the opening number, “Skater Planet,” which immediately sets the tone: a gleeful burst of teenage energy performed on ice skates, full of colourful subtly comedic moments and unbridled joy. Yet within moments, the show reveals its emotional core when we see Kimberly left out in the cold, forgotten by her father, and how beneath the laughter emerges a story about fragility, time, and the fierce desire to live fully.

Anchoring the production is Menchu Lauchengco-Yulo, delivering the latest stellar performance in her storied career as Kimberly. The role is a paradox: a teenager with the body of an elderly woman, yet brimming with the insecurity, humour, and yearning of youth. Menchu, now 62, plays a character one-quarter her age, and somehow makes you believe it entirely. Her movements are light and youthful, her voice clear and precise, and her expressions shimmer with both innocence and melancholy brimming just under. She captures both the awkward energy of adolescence and the quiet wisdom of someone living on borrowed time.

Her Kimberly is radiant, defiant, and deeply affecting, a girl who wants nothing more than an ordinary life, even as her body reminds her daily that she won’t get one. In songs like “This Time” and “Make a Wish,” she radiates hope and sweetness, while later on during “Our Disease,” she channels existential horror with startling clarity. It’s a performance of immense empathy that transcends audiences of any background: you feel her fragility, her humour, her longing, and above all, her decision and determination to live. Menchu gives us the quiet poetry of a life half-lived but fully felt, and you leave the theatre both impressed and changed, bowled over by her performance.

Opposite her, Zachary Pang is delightful as Seth, Kimberly’s unlikely confidant. Zachary Pang brings warmth, wit, and a dorky charm to the role, turning what could have been a stock “quirky best friend” into a fully realised young man. His number “Good Kid” is a comic gem, but it’s his sincerity that lingers, a reminder that kindness can be quietly radical. His chemistry with Menchu is tender and believable, filled with earnest conversation, awkward pauses, and the unspoken courage of first love. Their scenes together are pure gold: funny, awkward, and brimming with heart, and it is a joy to see Zachary grow from strength to strength as a young but very promising actor.

The “adults” in Kimberly’s world bring their own brand of delightful dysfunction. Benjamin Chow plays her father Buddy with gleeful absurdity, a man who loves his daughter but can’t get his act together, gambling away both money and time with reckless abandon. Rebekah Sangeetha Dorai finds comic gold in mother Pattie, who spends much of the show immobilised by her pregnancy and other complications, yet never stops talking. After a string of intense dramatic roles in her career, it’s a joy to see Rebekah flex her comedic chops with such precision, singing in a high register and making her narcissism perversely loveable, especially in numbers like ‘Hello Darling’.

And then there’s Frances Lee, who consistently steals the show as Aunt Debra, essentially a walking tornado of schemes, sass, and selfishness. Whether she’s cheekily teasing teenagers with age-inappropriate humour or finding her next mark to get involved with her schemes, she’s impossible to ignore in the best way. Every appearance is assured to bring chaos and laughter in equal measure, and her Motown-inspired number “Better” turns the stage into a comic inferno – the stage is hers as she belts and owns it all. Even as she plays the show’s “villain,” Frances makes her irresistible, commanding every scene in her colourful tights and fanny pack with gleeful abandon.

The ensemble, comprising Theo Chen, Melissa May Garcia, Angelo Martinez, and Beatrice Jaymes Pung, provide energetic support as Kimberly’s classmates caught in a love quadrangle. Their subplots of crushes and mishaps add warmth and levity, and they tackle Andy Benjamin Cai’s choreography with infectious enthusiasm, always reliable as they support the main cast. “Skater Planet” and the finale are pure kinetic joy, their harmonies tight and their movement organic. There’s a genuine sweetness in their performances that lifts the whole show.

Andy’s work across the board is remarkable. He crafts movement that feels as varied as it is alive: ice-skating chaos in “Skater Planet,” and full-blown comic precision in “How to Wash a Check.” What makes his choreography so effective is how it allows every cast member to shine, catering to both their abilities and their character. Everyone moves with confidence and purpose, where the ensemble knows exactly when to lean into a beat, when to underplay a gesture, and how to make each transition feel natural, and every scene feels exuberant yet real.

Visually, Kimberly Akimbo is an absolute feast. Eucien Chia’s set and James Tan’s lighting design transform the grand Victoria Theatre into a neon-drenched Jersey skating rink, complete with massive glowing letters spelling out the show’s title. Lockers spin into kitchens, hallways turn into libraries, and there’s even a motorised car. James Tan’s lighting also paints every scene with warmth and wit, creating both the illusion of depth across the school and immersing us into the sometimes claustrophobic intimacy of small-town life.

Leonard Augustine Choo’s costumes root the story in the late 90s, with their colourful, character-driven, and wonderfully nostalgic vibes, from the muted tones of Kimberly’s parents to the more vibrant palettes of her teen peers. The attention to detail extends to every moment. Scene changes are fluid; the space always feels alive. Tracie Pang and her creative team know exactly when to fill the stage and when to let silence speak. By the time the finale arrives, the audience is utterly on Kimberly’s side, laughing, crying, cheering.

What makes Kimberly Akimbo so special is that it refuses to wallow in tragedy. It could so easily have been sentimental, but it isn’t. Instead, it just feels real and alive. Its emotional weight sneaks up on you not through manipulation, but honesty, a show where there are no grand declarations or overwrought moments, just people stumbling through love and family and mortality the way all of us do: awkwardly, bravely, and with humour intact. It’s this groundedness that makes the musical so powerful, and so endearing.

Pangdemonium’s production is fearless in its delivery, impeccable in its craft, and unflinchingly sincere in its storytelling. By curtain call, you leave the theatre both exhilarated and strangely at peace. Kimberly Akimbo smashes expectations and lifts your heart sky-high. It’s funny, heartbreaking, and impossibly alive, a show about time that makes you forget time is passing. You walk out lighter, braver, and filled with the urge to grab life by the horns and ride it for all it’s worth, celebrating it against all odds.

Photo Credit: CRISPI

Kimberly Akimbo plays from 17th October to 2nd November 2025 at Victoria Theatre. Tickets and more information available here. Audiences can also use their SG Culture Pass credits to purchase tickets.

Production Credits

Director Tracie Pang Assistant Director Timothy Koh Book and Lyrics David Lindsay-Abaire Music Jeanine Tesori Cast Menchu Lauchengco-Yulo, Zachary Pang, Rebekah Sangeetha Dorai, Benjamin Chow, Frances Lee, Melissa May Garcia, Angelo Martinez, Beatrice Jaymes Pung, Theo Chen Music Director Joanne Ho Choreographer Andy Benjamin Cai Vocal Coach TJ Taylor Set Designer Eucien Chia Lighting Designer James Tan Sound Designer Jing Ng Costume Designer Leonard Augustine Choo Hair/Wig Designer Leong Lim Orchestra Jane Foo, Rizal Sanip, Brandon Wong, Ryan Sim, Daniel Chai, Lester Ang, Jonathan Lim