Priscilla Queen Of The Desert The Musical

Legally Blonde, Kinky Boots, Shrek, Billy Elliot, even Silence Of The Lambs - it seems very few films are safe from the musical theatre makeover. And arguably, Priscilla Queen Of The Desert translates for the stage better than most. In its cinematic iteration, a soundtrack of disco floor fillers and gay anthems was an inextricable part of its sequin-spangled success. So, with much of the musical and narrative heavy lifting taken care of, transplanting the storytelling from screen to the stage should surely just be a matter of pragmatism.

Indeed, this impressively executed production, directed by Simon Philips, is slick AF and even sassier than that, hitting pretty much every beat needed for a musical theatre blockbuster. But does it remain true to the essence of its source material? Well, sort of.

The bare bones of the plot are entirely faithful to the film, and many of the most iconic lines (although not, for some inexplicable reason, the fan favourite, "I no like you. You got little ding-a-ling") are also preserved. But while there is humour and sentimentality in plentiful supply, there's far less shadow to contrast this story's abundance of mirror ball lights.

Almost a quarter of a century before the drag and trans communities were brought into the current pop culture mainstream, Stephen Elliott's glitzy, gaudy, proudly queer road movie The Adventures Of Priscilla, Queen Of The Desert, offered a whimsical and deeply touching window on a marginalised and misunderstood sorority of performers. Today, drag queens have been lofted to near megastar status, but back in 1994, "female illusionists" existed very much on the margins, their celebrity contained to a handful of gay bars in Australia's major cities.

Beyond these safe havens in cosmopolitan hubs, LGBTQ life could be fraught with danger. In outback Australia, antiquated gender politics, a knuckle-dragging brand of toxic masculinity and an arbitrary hatred of anything non-heteronormative existed in stark contrast to the acceptance and sense of belonging queer folk found in urban centres. It's precisely this clash of cultures, and the surprising humanity that can emerge from such a collision, that made Priscilla an instant Australian classic.

As they embark on an epic odyssey from Sydney to Alice Springs in a clapped-out bus dubbed the titular Priscilla, the film's three leading ladies - hard grafting Mitzi, outrageous and reckless Felicia, and transsexual elder stateswoman of drag Bernadette - are pitted against the hostile reality of Australia's backwaters. In the process, Elliott's film revealed the complex contradictions that continue to be a familiar presence of the LGBTQ experience today. These three fabulous and flawed heroines are both fierce and vulnerable, embattled yet longing for acceptance, courageous while gripped by the fear of persecution. This isolation, its accompanying ennui, and an indefatigable resilience in defiance of both, stirs the pathos that makes the film's emotional payoffs soar. But this vital counterpoint is frustratingly lite in the stage iteration, which favours a less confronting interpretation.

I dare say these concerns will likely only be a bother for Priscilla purists; by most conventional standards, this is a rip-roaring crowd-pleaser of a jukebox musical. Reprising the role of Bernadette, which he first played in the original 2006 production, Tony Sheldon all but steals the show. With the perfect balance of faded siren glamour and mordant sass, tinged with a surprising undercurrent of maternal warmth, Bernadette's unexpected romance with salt-of-the-earth mechanic Bob (Robert Grubb) provides the richest and by far the most rewarding moments of the night.

David Harris cuts a very different figure to Hugo Weaving's cinematic portrayal of Mitzi, and despite his considerable skills, this is somewhat problematic. Harris is the archetypal leading man, bringing a commanding stage presence, a superb voice and undeniable magnetism to his performance. But for all his merits, such polish feels ill-placed with this character; Mitzi's awkward yearning and anxious charm is (quite literally) muscled out.

Far closer to the mark is Euan Doidge as the irrepressible and wonderfully irritating Felicia. Flamboyant, feisty and fearless to a fault, Doidge channels the perfect yin to Bernadette's yang, yielding some much-needed poignancy when the group encounter their most violent confrontation. The unconditional love and protection this ragtag group of queer misfits can muster, even in the face of real danger, is a heartfelt ode to the nurturing importance of community, belonging, and found family.

Priscilla Queen Of The Desert The Musical plays until 29 Apr at Regent Theatre.