REVIEW: Calamity Jane – Queensland Theatre

The Wild West galloped into Brisbane with a yee-haw and a wink in Calamity Jane, a rollicking musical comedy about the iconic frontierswomen. Queensland Theatre teamed up with One Eyed Man Productions, Neglected Musicals, and Hayes Theatre Co., to wrangle the rebellious spirit of Calamity for a rootin’-tootin’, rip-roaring reimagining at the Bille Brown Theatre—and what a riot it was. On opening night, the saloon bar and photo op space welcomed us into the world of Deadwood, complete with piano plonking and cast members moseying through the crowd. I rocked up in cowboy boots and all—and I wasn't the only one (the dress code was Wild West chic, after all). The audience was buzzing with theatre regulars, all ready to hoot, holler, and whoop.

Whether you know Calamity Jane from American folklore, HBO’s Deadwood, or the Doris Day film (confession: I’d somehow never seen it—do I need to hunt down a VHS?), this version was a feisty, self-aware blend of homage and reinvention. The plot? When the Golden Garter Saloon mistakenly books the wrong glamorous performer, a case of mistaken identity unravels into romance, chaos, and plenty of toe-tapping tunes.

First off, a gigantic thank you to Queensland Theatre for the invitation and tickets! What an absolute treat to experience the Golden Garter Saloon from inside the action. The line between audience and cast was gleefully blurred, with us patrons treated like barflies and townsfolk of Deadwood. The cast acknowledged us like we were just another part of their rowdy frontier world. Audience members seated onstage became bar patrons (shoutout to “Joe the Barman” on opening night), and Brisbane references were tossed around like whiskey shots throughout the script. There was even a running gag about surviving Cyclone Alfred – because yes, this plucky team worked around a natural disaster to get here (even if it was anticlimactic, as Naomi joked).

The show’s scrappy charm was no accident—director Richard Carroll steered the reins with clever abandon, bringing along his full posse of creative cowpokes to give this golden-age gem a fresh coat. He found the perfect rhythm, charging through high-energy gags while allowing tender moments to breathe. The production leaned into the show’s old-school melodrama while layering it with meta-humour and modern cheek. It was intentionally rough-edged, self-referential, and practically dared you not to have a good time. The fourth wall? Kicked open like a swinging saloon door. The only instrument on stage? A piano. Played by Music Director, Nigel Ubrihien. And that was all it needed—well, that and the powerhouse cast that could sing like nobody’s business.

The cast of eight conjured an entire town. They performed with the heightened melodrama of classic Western films, peppered with cheeky modern nods and jokes that had the Brisbane theatre crowd howling. Wigs were flying, accents changed, and characters appeared and reappeared with jokes about “unlocking new characters”.

Naomi Price was a revelation in the title role. Known for her cabaret and concert work, she shattered every expectation here. Naomi Price was Calamity Jane. And this Calamity was handful of contradictions: bold but bashful, brash but loveable, chaotic but deeply sincere. Her vocal power was undeniable, but it was her comedic and improvisational freedom, crowd-wrangling skills, and emotional depth that made her an unstoppable force. Tough as nails, quick with a quip, and heartbreakingly vulnerable—her Calamity was the kind of leading lady you cheer for, drink with, and want to hug after.

Darcy Brown brought down the house as Francis Fryer. From his awkward “audition” (Everyone Complains About the Weather) to the chaos of Hive Full of Honey, he was a comedic hurricane—fearless, flamboyant, and fabulous. He fully committed to each madcap moment—from bar glass percussion to joining in on Calamity’s Men! number about how much she hates men (what a vibe) to quite literally squeezing himself into a corset and blonde wig to entertain the room.

Anthony Gooley brought grit and gravitas as Wild Bill Hickok, the gruff cowboy with a surprisingly soft centre. His sparring duet with Calamity (I Can Do Without You) crackled with fire, while Higher Than a Hawk revealed hidden depths with gentle beauty and outstanding vocals. Andrew Buchanan wonderfully played Henry Miller, the saloon owner who insisted Susan was his “niece” (sure, mate).

Juliette Coates pulled double duty as Susan Miller and Adelaide Adams, flipping between chaotic magic act and sultry starlet with a wink and a flourish. Her Adelaide number (It’s Harry I’m Planning to Marry) was rightfully dazzling, delivered with that perfect “don’t make me sing” diva energy, and she absolutely nailed that final high note. Her moustachioed moment in the all-male ensemble number Adelaide was a cheeky delight. Even in a supporting role, Juliette's stage presence was effortlessly commanding.

Laura Bunting, as Katie Brown, was a quiet powerhouse. She played the aspiring actress impersonating Adelaide with endearing awkwardness and vulnerability, then closed Act I with a vocal wallop in Keep It Under Your Hat. Her duet with Calamity in A Woman’s Touch—reimagined here with a queer subtext—was gold. And in Love You Dearly, her vocals soared alongside Sean Sinclair. Speaking of Sean—his Danny was charming and the perfect counterpoint to Calamity’s emotional arc. Watching Calamity rage at Danny and Katie in a moment of heartbreak, only to break down in sobs, was honestly so relatable girly.

The real kicker, though, was the atmosphere. The cast radiated camaraderie with genuine affection in every interaction. Especially when the full ensemble came together with a banjo, mandolin, guitar, and accordion to sing The Black Hills of Dakota. I genuinely wanted to whip out a harmonica and join in. It was that kind of show. It felt like a massive campfire hangout with your 400 closest friends, all putting on their best Southern drawl. Huge props to dialect coach Siege Campbell for keeping them up with the madness! And shoutout to intimacy coach Jacqui Somerville, whose work supported the sparkling chemistry and emotional realism that underpinned the romantic storylines. Kudos to the audience themselves—who were incredible sports, letting the cast move all around them, interact with them, and even rope them into reading lines! The finale saw the cast herding the audience out to the bar, where they kept the party going with country tunes, dancing, and a full-on post-show (triple) wedding celebration.

Design-wise, this show was a triumph. Lauren Peters’ rustic set—with swinging saloon doors, bar stools, and a wagon wheel chandelier strung with glowing bulbs—hung above the action like a prairie halo. Lighting designers Trent Suidgeest and Emma Burchell bathed the space in golden tones that shifted with the mood, from rowdy cabaret sparkle to gentle prairie dusk. Costume designer Kyla Ryman delivered one fabulous outfit after another, especially for Calamity, Susan, and Katie. The girls’ final dresses were divine and perfectly suited to each character’s arc. Cameron Mitchell’s choreography made the most of the small space and rowdy energy—especially in Windy City, which was part hoedown, part flash mob, and 100% crowd-pleaser.

There might not have been a tight plot to follow—but that wasn’t the point. We were there for the vibe. The irreverence. The spontaneous joy. We were there for Windy City raygun dance moves, gag-a-minute staging, and the kind of show that lovingly took the mickey out of musical theatre while still revelling in it. It was theatre people making fun of theatre people—for theatre people. Like a rowdy family reunion—if your family happened to include half of Brisbane’s musical theatre scene.

Queensland Theatre only programmed one musical this year—and what a brilliant choice it was. I’ve already begged Artistic Director Dan Evans for more. This production was a beautiful celebration. Of old Hollywood musicals. Of new theatrical possibilities. Of storytelling that doesn't take itself too seriously, but still knows how to strike the heart. And we want more.