The legendary musical Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, first seen as a film in 1994, arrived at the Woking Theatre on Monday for a week-long stay. I joined an excited audience ready to experience this enduring show.
Excitement is not difficult to conjure because for 20 years, since its stage adaptation in 2006, this production has been honed to near perfection, drawing on a rich seam of disco and pop classics. Despite its age, Priscilla has not become a relic of disco yesteryears. It retains a relevance that can be usefully viewed through a changing cultural lens.
Beneath its glitter lies a story of resilience, shared emotional support, blended family living, and an empathetic view of self-definition – issues that occupy many TV debates. This significance adds to why the show endures.
Audiences are attracted by the disco anthems, but a deeper satisfaction depends on whether the human journey beneath the sequins lands truthfully. I was looking for this in Woking and whether the production successfully emphasises the emotional hurt the three male leads endure as the drag entertainers: Bernadette, Felicia, and Mitzi.
In my judgement, this cast balances the bruising alongside the razzmatazz rather well. The three leads are played by Adele Anderson as Bernadette, a trans-woman whom we learn was formerly in the cabaret world of Les Girls; Fionan O’Carroll (covering for Nick Hayes) plays Felicia; and headliner Kevin Clifton is cast as conflicted drag artist Mitzi.
Anderson’s role as Bernadette brings an authenticity to the stage. She is the first trans-woman to play the role professionally in a major touring production. This brought a renewed resonance to the role, along with a lived steadiness that, for me, added to the production’s emotional core. Fionan O’Carroll introduced a camp-comic fearlessness to the role of Felicia but fortunately applied a handbrake to reveal aspects of her vulnerability, effectively preventing a character dressed merely for amusement.
The anchoring role, however, is Mitzi, and Kevin Clifton demonstrates a lot more than celebrity casting. He is effortlessly at ease with the musical numbers, developing an effective stage presence. He perhaps explores the production’s most difficult character – a character with private uncertainties. For musical theatre, this is a bit more than a standard cardboard cutout; it offers complexity. In earlier productions I have seen, this texture has not always found full expression, but Clifton finds degrees of realism with a side look, a shrug, and a hesitancy that turns theatricality into recognisable humanity.
However, for a production built on exuberance, the scenery exercised remarkable restraint. The costuming arrived in full Mardi Gras excess, but the set never quite woke up; it was bland. The evening, however, is lifted by its sheer musical drive, but director Ian Talbot ensures the pace allows the quieter moments of emotional candour to carefully register.
No, Priscilla has not become a musical documentary; it remains a joyful entertainment – but this time around offers just a bit more beneath the makeup and sequins. Showing until Saturday, May 16 at Woking Theatres and Cinema, The Peacocks Centre, Woking, GU21 6GQ.
Carlos Acosta’s Carmen: Raw Passion and Torrid Tension
Last week, and again at the Woking Theatre, the atmosphere was torrid and raw. Carlos Acosta’s dance interpretation of Carmen was on stage. And how! It was dazzling. It was febrile. It was astonishing. Acosta’s choreography overwhelmed with an emotion that gave movement a fresh, dangerous, and compelling theatrical life.
Carmen, based around Bizet’s celebrated work, tells a story fuelled with sexual desire, jealousy, and murder, and the Acosta Company went for it full blast. The body language, movement, and intensity created an excitement that seeped into the auditorium, prompting gasps, applause, and occasional shouts as the atmosphere melted formality.
Acosta focused on emotion, and some might have found the traditional storyline of Carmen less clearly defined: passion became the dominant force. Yet that seemed part of the point. Rather than labour the narrative, Acosta allowed physical tension, desire, and conflict to do the storytelling. What emerged was not so much a literal retelling of Carmen’s story but a heightened dramatic experience in which gesture and proximity carried as much power as movement itself. The result was a Carmen that felt immediate, daring, and wholly alive. I left the theatre dazed.
