Susan Granger’s review of “Priscilla Queen of the Desert: The Musical” (Palace)
Just like the 1994 Oscar-winning film, this is the splashy, sequin-spangled story of three Australian drag queens taking an impromptu road trip of discovery through Outback – except that, somewhere between screen and stage, it lost its heart and soul en route.
One night, as Tick/Mitzi (Will Swenson) is backstage in Sydney, he receives a call from his estranged wife, Marion (Jessica Phillips), wondering when he’s going to meet their six year-old son Benji (Luke Mannikus and Ashton Woertz alternate in the role). And if he could get to remote Alice Springs soon, he could be the ‘opening act’ for her casino there. So Tick rounds up his bitchy transsexual buddy, Bernadette (Tony Sheldon), and a rambunctious if troubled young buck, Adam/Felicia (Nick Adams), and they pile into a rented RV, dubbed Priscilla. As they romp through the wilderness in wigs, bugle-beads and ostrich plumes, they cavort with rowdy rednecks and cope with a clogged gas tank. A bawdy second-act pit stop includes dragging dazed audience members on-stage for a hoedown. Beyond that, it’s all outrageous gyrating and forced, campy emoting.
Originally produced in Australia and still playing on London’s West End, it’s been adapted by Stephen Elliott and producer Allan Scott, relentlessly directed by Simon Phillips, awkwardly choreographed by Ross Coleman with music arrangements by Stephen “Spud” Murphy and glitzy, glittering costumes designed by Tim Chappel and Lizzy Gardiner, who won an Academy Award for the movie’s inventive wardrobe. Warbled by a trio of torch divas (Jacqueline B. Arnold, Anastacia McClesky, Ashley Spencer), the ‘60s-‘70s-‘80s disco pop music includes Donna Summer, Dionne Warwick, John Denver, Madonna, Cyndi Lauper, Pat Benatar and The Village People. If nothing else, at least you can bring home a feathery purple or pink boa from the concession stand in the lobby.