Priscilla Queen of the Desert - Nottingham Theatre Royal, Tour Review

★★★★☆

Priscilla Queen of the Desert at Nottingham Theatre Royal is exactly what it promises to be: loud, proud, unapologetically camp. Determined to give you a good night out, whether you like it or not, this touring production leans hard into the drag spectacle in abundance. But beneath the glitter and grit, the question lingers: is this a musical that says something, or simply one that shouts very, very well?

The cast of Priscilla Queen of the Desert. Photo Credit: Johan Persson.

The story follows Tick, Felicia, and Bernadette, three drag performers who embark on a cross-country journey across the Australian outback aboard a battered bus named Priscilla. What begins as a gig quickly becomes something more personal, as identities are tested, relationships deepen, and long-buried truths surface. It’s a road trip narrative dressed in feathers and heels, exploring acceptance, resilience, and chosen family. From the moment the curtain rises, it has only one desire: to give the audience a show.

The design is the engine. Vicky Gill’s costumes are nothing short of magnificent. These aren’t just outfits; they’re events. There are countless costumes and quick changes, creating a sense of constant motion that keeps the eye engaged. This production has ensured that the glitter and rhinestone industry will continue to boom for years to come. Paired with Craig Forrest-Thomas’ immaculate wigs and make-up, the visual world is so fully realised that it often becomes the storytelling itself.

Matt Cole’s choreography is high-octane energy with precision and unrelenting flair. Yet, one of its most charming qualities comes from its imperfections. Watching Adele Anderson’s Bernadette perform the routines alongside younger cast members adds an accidental layer to the character. It reminds me of my Grandma’s shuffling at a family party, which mirrors Bernadette’s narrative of ageing within a youth-obsessed culture. 

Kevin Clifton and Cast. Photo Credit: Johan Persson.

Adele Anderson’s Bernadette is, quite simply, the heart of the show. She grounds it with warmth, dignity, and a lived-in authenticity that never feels performative. Despite a 40-year strong career as a musical comedian, Anderson doesn’t chase laughs; she earns empathy. This is a true and human representation of a trans character. 

If Anderson provides the soul, Nick Hayes supplies the electricity. His Adam/Felicia is a force of flamboyant nature. Hayes doesn’t just steal scenes; he hijacks them completely. There’s an ease to his comic timing and a fearlessness in his physicality that makes every choice feel like an event. However, this does mean that Kevin Clifton’s Tick/Mitzi, the story’s central character, struggles to command the same level of attention. This isn’t necessarily a failing on Clifton’s part, but rather a consequence of Hayes delivering such an outstanding performance.

Vocally, the production finds its powerhouse in Leah Vassell. As one of the Divas, a trio of Supremes-esque figures who provide the live soundtrack, she delivers vocals of staggering quality. It is no exaggeration to say Vassell has one of the strongest voices I have heard on a theatre stage in a long time; she is truly iconic. 

Kevin Clifton (Tick/Mitzi). Photo Credit: Johan Persson.

That said, the musical structure itself is the production’s weakest element. Like many jukebox musicals, Priscilla relies on a catalogue of hits, but they function more as standalone moments than as narrative drivers. The show adopts a concert-like rhythm: set-up, number, applause, repeat. It’s undeniably enjoyable, but dramatically shallow. The result of this is that when the production attempts to pivot into more serious territory, exploring themes of identity, acceptance, and family, the emotional beats can feel less pronounced, as though the script is eager to return to the next musical high. The show excels as a party but hesitates as a piece of storytelling.

Even the opening encapsulates this uncertainty. Sario Solomon’s pre-show banter as Jimmy aims to create the atmosphere of a drag club, but it lands closer to pantomime than immersive world-building. While Solomon handles an early technical hiccup (a faulty microphone) with admirable professionalism, the segment itself feels unnecessary, setting a tone that the rest of the production quickly outgrows.

And yet, despite these shortcomings, it’s difficult not to be won over. Above all else, Priscilla: Queen of the Desert has a desire to entertain, to celebrate, to bring people together. It doesn’t pretend to be a perfectly constructed musical; it leans into what it does best: spectacle, performance, and unapologetic self-expression. When it stops trying to be profound and simply allows itself to be fabulous, it’s irresistible.

Priscilla Queen of the Desert is a glitter-soaked, high-energy celebration that delivers exactly the night out its audience craves. It may not always earn its emotional moments, but it more than compensates with charisma, craft, and sheer theatrical joy. You will adore this production if you love the film, love the culture, or have even been dragged along.