The curtain hadn’t yet risen when the flash of iPhones lit up the Ambassador Theatre, casting a pale glow across aisles lined with YouTubers, TikTok loyalists, and Broadway traditionalists trying to make sense of this new era. The crowd that gathered for Whitney Leavitt’s premiere wasn’t just there for a show—it was there for a shift.
It was immediately apparent that she was not attempting to emulate the veterans who had gone before her when she entered the limelight as Roxie Hart. Her voice, slightly breathy yet shockingly earnest, mixed confidence with curiosity. Even seasoned theatergoers were occasionally taken aback by her timing, which paused long enough between lines to allow an audience response to develop naturally. It felt untrained but instinctively timed. Not perfectly Broadway. But refreshingly human.
| Full Name | Whitney Leavitt |
|---|---|
| Role | Roxie Hart in Chicago (Broadway) |
| Opening Night | February 2, 2026 |
| Venue | Ambassador Theatre, New York City |
| Engagement | Limited run through March 15, 2026 |
| Notable Credits | The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives, DWTS S34 |
| Social Reach | 4.4M+ followers across TikTok and Instagram |
| Reference | People.com – Whitney Leavitt’s Debut Performance |
She delivered “Roxie” with a smile that wasn’t just for the front row—it stretched all the way to the balcony, inviting viewers to root for her not because she was polished, but because she was reachable. The number felt created for her—a blend of charm, boldness, and barely veiled ambition.
Throughout the night, pals from Hulu’s The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives series sat at the front, clapping between songs and openly sobbing up during bows. Her husband Conner rose first for the ovation. The whole theater did the same. It was a strikingly intimate moment in a house built for spectacle.
Online, the reviews unfolded in real-time. Videos from Instagram and TikTok showed her and co-star Sophie Carmen-Jones descending into the orchestra pit, waving to the audience like athletes who had just finished a medal-winning routine. Reddit discussions ignited instantly—some praising her for portraying Roxie with a kind of new-age grit, others anxiously asking whether this signaled a turning point in how Broadway casts its stars.
Leavitt’s performance wasn’t immaculate. She isn’t a seasoned belter, and in instances where Broadway purists might anticipate vocal weight, she gave something else entirely—a kind of whispered resistance, notably effective during “Funny Honey.” It didn’t smash through the auditorium, but it landed. Particularly in the context of the character’s arc, it made sense. After all, Roxie isn’t meant to be a diva. She’s intended to be believable.
In recent months, Broadway has been cautiously experimenting with crossovers. These kinds of casting decisions—people more well-known for their content than their conservatory training—have not always been warmly received. But Leavitt brought something the stage hadn’t seen in a while: relatability in real-time. Her following didn’t just cheer for her—they became part of the performance. One could argue the roar of a TikTok crowd can echo as loud as a Tony nod these days.
Leavitt developed a hybrid performance format that felt incredibly successful by fusing her enormous internet fan base with a live stage presence. Audiences who never bought a ticket before now waited at the stage door, many holding roses and ring lights. Her social media experience, which was frequently written off as unimportant, turned out to be quite adaptable. It taught her timing, prepared her for interaction, and—above all—gave her an instinctive understanding of how to maintain focus without going too far.
I recall hearing a young girl behind me whisper, “That’s who I watch on my phone,” shortly after she executed her last “Razzle Dazzle” pose. Although the line seemed straightforward, it conveyed a significant message. She wasn’t just witnessing a Broadway actress—she was watching someone who had transferred from her feed to the stage. That transition was both literal and metaphorical.
Whitney’s own reflections have echoed that tone. In interviews, she has openly discussed how strange it was to take on this role, describing it as a dream that she “could now reach with both hands.” That seriousness plays beautifully in a production like Chicago, where irony and tenderness are always contesting the limelight.
Since her stint on Dancing With the Stars, where she achieved a semi-final position dancing the “Cell Block Tango,” it’s evident she’s had her sights on something more permanent. This isn’t a detour—it’s a pivot. And it’s one marked not by flash, but by focus.
Backstage photos told another story entirely. Castmates who formerly battled on film stood arm in arm, beaming in matched dresses, their drama shelved—if only temporarily—for a flower and a bow. The Hulu cameras captured it all, unsurprisingly. Whether you see that as marketing or memory-making depends on your lens.
Through strategic partnerships with platforms like Hulu and Disney, Leavitt’s leap to Broadway has been amplified—not manufactured. This wasn’t a stunt. It was a calculated risk built on visibility, discipline, and a bit of timing. And thus far, it’s paying off.
Her run is scheduled to end on March 15. Early metrics suggest Chicago is already seeing a noticeable ticket bump. Gen Z involvement has dramatically grown since her casting was announced, and theater analysts are watching intently. Her presence may be especially helpful when it comes to long-running productions that require new perspectives.
Theater purists may still question the idea of casting an influencer. But perhaps that’s not the right question anymore. The real shift here is that someone like Whitney Leavitt didn’t just join Broadway—she brought an audience with her.
That’s not just theater. Traction is that. And for a show entering its 30th year, that may be the most sustainable applause of all.
