The 2026 UK tour of Priscilla Queen of the Desert arrives at a fascinating cultural crossroads. Thirty years after the original film’s release and over fifteen years since its West End debut, this new production, directed by Ian Talbot, attempts to balance the ‘high-camp’ spectacle audiences crave with the sensitivity required in a modern socio-political landscape. This reimagined journey through the Australian Outback remains a glittering, poignant celebration of queer resilience.
Based on the movie, we follow three drag-queens on a road trip. Tick, on the verge of a break-down and needing a change, convinces Bernadette, an aging queen who’s just buried her husband and doesn’t know what to do next, and Adam, the more emotional, yet theatrical one, to drive across Australia to perform a number of shows at a casino in Alice Springs. Although this is a cover as Tick had been previously married and has a son he’s never met, unbeknown to the others. You know the story…
At the heart of this production is a trio that not only anchors the show’s emotional stakes, but delights the audience. Kevin Clifton (known primarily for Strictly Come Dancing) delivers a surprisingly grounded performance as Tick (Mitzi). Clifton avoids the trap of playing Tick as a caricature; instead, he emphasises the character’s quiet apprehension regarding fatherhood. We know his dancing is spot on, however, his singing was brilliant.
However, the production’s greatest asset is Adèle Anderson as Bernadette. In a vital move toward authentic representation, the casting of a trans woman in this iconic role pays dividends. Anderson, a veteran of Fascinating Aïda, brings a ‘world-weary elegance’ to the part. Her Bernadette is the production’s dignified core, funny and sharp-tongued, yet deeply vulnerable. She was truly remarkable.
Beside her, Nick Hayes returns to the role of Felicia (Adam) with an explosive, muscular energy that threatens to steal every scene. The chemistry between the three is palpable, shifting seamlessly from vicious drag-queen repartee to genuine, found-family tenderness. Nick’s performance was spectacular.
Visually, the production is a feast, it had an element of simplicity with the props, however this was essential as space was required for the dancing and the big cast. The bus was cool and was physically pushed about the stage for internal/external scenes and I feel it worked well.Visually, the production is a feast, it had an element of simplicity with the props, however this was essential as space was required for the dancing and the big cast. The bus was cool and was physically pushed about the stage for internal/external scenes and I feel it worked well.
Beneath the sequins and disco anthems like ‘I Will Survive’ and ‘It’s Raining Men,’ this production doesn’t shy away from the darker realities of the journey: the homophobic vandalism and the ‘broken-down’ nature of the trio’s bus serve as metaphors for the external and internal barriers they face.
The inclusion of the Three Divas (Leah Vassell, Bernadette Bangura, and Jessie May) functions as a soulful Greek chorus, providing the powerhouse vocals that the queens lip-sync to. This stylistic choice pays homage to the traditional art of drag while ensuring the musical integrity of the disco score.
Plus we had Peter Duncan play Bob – what a fabulous addition!
This is a full on high quality production ticking all the boxes and more, it brought so much joy to the audience and each cast member were utterly incredible (and fit as…)
Claybody Theatre’s latest touring production, The Grand Babylon Hotel, is based on Arnold Bennett’s 1902 book of the same name about a hotel, of which was a thinly disguised version of the Savoy in London, Bennett’s favourite hotel. This adaptation by Deborah McAndrew is a fast paced high-stakes romp that manages to make the Edwardian era feel less like a stuffy history lesson and more like a fever dream fuelled by soft cheese and high-grade energy drinks.
The story follows Theodore Racksole, a multi-millionaire American who, in a move that screams ‘I have more money than sense’, buys one of London’s most prestigious hotels simply because the waiter refused to serve his daughter a steak and a bottle of Bass ale.
What follows is a delightfully convoluted conspiracy involving murder, kidnapped German princes, secret societies, and a criminal mastermind. It’s a ‘whodunnit’ wrapped in a ‘why-are-they-doing-it,’ served with a side of class-conscious wit.
The creative team uses their spatial constraints with a sort of frantic brilliance. The staging is minimalist yet evocative, relying on sharp lighting and a versatile cast to transform a few props into the gilded hallways of a luxury hotel.
The performances are where the production truly earns its praise:
Theodore Racksole (Bill Champion): Played with a boisterous, ‘can-do’ American arrogance that is surprisingly charming. He treats an international assassination plot with the same casual irritation most people reserve for a delayed train.
Nella Racksole (Alice Pryor) is not your typical Edwardian damsel. She’s sharp, proactive, and seemingly the only person in the building with a functioning moral compass. Her physical nuances truly brings depth to the character.
Special mention must go to the supporting cast, although ‘supporting cast’ isn’t the right term, it’s three other stunning actors who play a multitude of brilliant & hilarious characters. Their ability to switch hats, literally, to denote a change in rank or nationality is a masterclass in frantic efficiency. The breaking of the fourth wall a couple of times at the perfect moments were simply genius.
The pacing is relentless. At times, the plot moves so quickly that if you blink to clear your eyes, you might miss three betrayals and a minor diplomatic crisis. It’s ‘prestige’ drama with a wink and a nudge, acknowledging that while the stakes are life and death, the whole thing is fundamentally ridiculous. Although a slightly slow start, it didn’t take too long for the audience to tap into the humour, the silliness and the damn right brilliance of the performance. It was a funny, enjoyable play with a dazzling cast, who’s timing and infectious joy made it a wonderful night at the theatre.
This is my first experience of The Cut in Halesworth – what a fabulous venue! If you have never been, please take a look and try to visit, it has a wonderful charm: half industrial warehouse, half cozy community hub. The first Sonic Wave night of 2026 transformed the space into something far more expansive.
The night started early in the café with the Halesworth Harmony choir. It was a lovely, touch; there’s something about local voices echoing through the room that settles the soul before the ‘main’ show begins. For those of us who opted for the pre-gig meal, I was lucky enough to be invited, the delicious flavours were the perfect precursor to a night of global sounds.
Anna Mudeka took the stage first, and honestly, her energy is infectious. Performing solo, she brought the stories of the Shona people to life through her mbira (thumb piano) and a voice that seems to fill every corner of the room. Before each track Anna gave us a story, or piece of Zimbabwean history which added to the emotions of the songs.
She played several tracks from her new album, Ruvimbo (which means ‘Hope’), and it felt like exactly what we needed. The highlight for me was “I Have A Name”, a powerful, moving piece about migration and identity that left the room pin-drop silent. Adding to the joy which was emanating from the stage, Anna had us participating with our ‘percussion’ skills aka clapping, and she gave us a display of traditional dancing, all while having her beautiful smile captivating us. She had this way of making a theatre audience feel like a group of friends sitting around a fire. It was a wonderful performance.
After the interval, the vibe shifted from storytelling to a deep, improvisational groove. Seated on the stage floor, Jesse Barrett (of Mammal Hands fame) is a wizard on the tabla. It’s rare to see someone bridge the gap between North Indian classical rhythms and modern UK jazz so seamlessly.
The Jesse Barret trio, featuring Peter Beardsworth on a dizzying array of sax, keys, and flute, and Owen Morgan on bass, toured their new album Adhyatma. It was delightfully hypnotic. At times, it felt like a meditative soundscape where you could just close your eyes and drift; at others, the polyrhythms were so propulsive you couldn’t help but lean in. The interplay between Peter’s electronics and Jesse’s percussion was particularly brilliant, blurring the lines between ‘ancient’ and ‘future.’ It was truly mesmerising.
SonicWaves curated the perfect evening, it wasn’t just a concert; it was a reminder of how lucky we are to have world-class artistry landing right here in Suffolk.
If you missed this one, make sure you’re there for the next instalment on 2nd May with Lassie.
In Paula Varjack’s multimedia performance Nine Sixteenths, the title refers to the precise duration – a mere 0.56 seconds – that Janet Jackson’s breast was exposed during the 2004 Super Bowl halftime show. Yet, as Varjack and her ensemble of four, equally amazing, Black female performers over forty demonstrate, those few frames of video triggered a seismic shift in the cultural landscape, effectively derailing the career of a pop deity while leaving her white male counterpart, Justin Timberlake, 23 at the time, thriving. Through a vibrant mix of devised theatre, dance, and verbatim lip-syncing, Nine Sixteenths functions as both a nostalgic love letter to a fallen idol and a sharp-toothed critique of the ‘pale, stale, and male’ power structures that police Black female bodies.
The performance is structured in three distinct acts: The Malfunction, The Aftermath, and Reclamation. The ensemble, consisting of Varjack, Pauline Mayers, Julienne Doko, Chia Phoenix and Endy McKay, uses the ‘Nipplegate’ 2004 incident not merely as a historical footnote, but as a lens through which to view the broader commodification and subsequent ‘blackballing’ of Black women.
The story, and subsequent social critique, begins with Varjack being an obsessed Janet Jackson fan in the 90s when she was 15 years old. She felt powerful as she felt represented. It was a time of MTV, amazing music videos, fun with friends and of course before the internet and social media. Varjack is the commentator of her own life growing up as she takes us through the impact of Black women representation, but how the 2024 Super Bowl incident did actually change the world in ways which many of us do not realise.
Not only is it nostalgic, engrossing, entertaining and funny, it shines the light on how black and middle aged women are treated by the media and why Janet Jackson, at the hight of her career, seemed to disappear: Her music was blacklisted, her 2004 Grammy Awards invitation revoked and plans for Jackson to star in a Hollywood film were abandoned. Conversely Timberlake was welcomed at the Grammy’s and suffered little negative backlash.
One of the show’s most effective sequences involves a fantastic verbatim lip-sync of a 2004 interview between Jackson and David Letterman. As the performers channel Letterman’s persistent, leering interrogations against Jackson’s visible discomfort and attempts to pivot to her music, the production highlights the “outrage-and-titillation” loop that the media used to humiliate her. The irony is laid bare: while CBS and Viacom blacklisted Jackson’s music, the burgeoning platform YouTube found its initial footing as the primary destination for users desperate to re-watch the ‘wardrobe malfunction.’
By casting only Black women over forty, Varjack also creates a narrative about visibility. The performers reflect on their own ‘hopes and dreams’ and the frustration of being labelled ‘emerging artists’ in an industry that prizes youth and often discards Black women once they reach a certain maturity.
The integration of British Sign Language (BSL) as a core part of the performance further reinforces the show’s commitment to accessibility and inclusive representation.
Nine Sixteenths is less a biography of Janet Jackson and more a forensic examination of the ‘currency of attention.’ It asks who profits from a woman’s humiliation and who decides when a legacy is ‘over.’
By the final act, the ‘malfunction’ is reframed not as a point of shame, but as a catalyst for a necessary conversation about who truly controls the narrative in mainstream pop culture.
Although the seemingly heavy themes, this performance by these amazing women is thoroughly entertaining and completely engrossing. I was gripped all the way through and loved it.
On the evening of Sunday 23rd March 1997, the body of Emily Simpson, a gentle, orchid-loving, older lady, was found in her cottage in the idyllic, seemingly sleepy, village of Badger’s Drift in the rustic county of Midsomer…
There is no need to explain the globally popular TV series of Midsomer Murders, this play ‘edition’ is returning to the source material, Caroline Graham’s original 1987 book: The Killings at Badger’s Drift, which was also the pilot for the drama series. It reminds us that the heart of this ‘cozy’ mystery is actually quite cold. The stage adaptation offers a fascinating look at the friction between the idyllic English village and the grotesque secrets buried beneath its manicured hedges.
The play centres on the suspicious death of Emily Simpson, an elderly spinster who sees something she shouldn’t while out looking for an orchid. What follows is a quintessential ‘whodunnit’ led by Detective Chief Inspector Tom Barnaby, played by Daniel Casey – who, as you will know, played Sgt Troy in the TV series, he certainly looked like he enjoyed the promotion!
On stage, the challenge lies in compressing the sprawling social web of Badger’s Drift into a singular, theatrical setting. The production succeeds by fluidly presenting sections of scenery and props from all angles, whether from above, or slipped across the stage while the actors are walking towards the location, or everyone arriving on set with the props and with no hesitation straight into the scene. It was very good and well-coordinated to cover a lot of scenes without leaving the audience hanging.
DCI Barnaby and his sidekick Detective Sergeant Troy work their way through the village piecing together the murder timeline and everyone’s whereabouts, and in the process uncovers far more.
The characters in the village are the usual: the overbearing matriarch, the wayward artist, the grieving sister, the lonely widower, the estate manager, the village doctor… all playing roles to mask their deviances. It is a typical story of nothing and no-one is what or who they seem. This leads to plenty of twists and turns with many unpredicted which keeps the audience engaged. Of course, I cannot give you any spoilers but remember that the play captures the feeling that horror isn’t found in a dark alley, but in a sleepy village.
With over an hour for each half, there’s no feeling of cutting the storyline and they really manage to pack in many scenes without being too fast to keep up. It was well paced, albeit slightly stiff, with a sprinkling of humour and overall a bit twee – just like the drama series. It ticks all the expectation boxes for a good night out.
This show is playing at Norwich Theatre until Saturday 21st March – link:
