Music by Sammy Fain. Lyrics by Paul Francis Webster. Book by Ronald Hanmer and Phil Park. Adapted from the stage play by Charles K. Freeman after the Warner Bros. film written by James O’Hanlon. Presented by Sydney Opera House and One Eyed Man Productions. Sydney Opera House Studio. 14 Oct – 16 Nov, 2026
With this production pulling the queer-coded subtext out into the spotlight, it’s clear that this “secret love’s no secret anymore.” Calamity Jane’s not only out of the closet – she’s gone full “chaotic bisexual”.
“Calamity” Jane (Virginia Gay) loves to tell a tall tale almost as much as she loves being one of the boys. But the boy she loves most, handsome young Lt. Danny Gilmartin (Kaya Byrne), just thinks of her as a friend. When she’s pressured by town tough guy Wild Bill Hickok (Andrew Cutcliffe) into trying to bring beautiful actress Adelaid Adams to perform in their small town, Deadwood, Calamity has to save face and attempt the impossible. Instead, she unwittingly mistakes aspiring performer Katie Brown (Kala Gare) for Adelaid – and Katie might just be the most beautiful girl the town, or Calamity herself, has ever seen.
Much like director Sean Rennie’s Rent, playing upstairs in the Joan Sutherland Theatre (which gets a cheeky shout-out), director Richard Carroll’s Calamity Jane has had a few years, and a few productions, before becoming the show it is today. From modest beginnings as one of Michelle Guthrie’s excellent Neglected Musicals at the Hayes in 2016, it has morphed into its current immersive cabaret form – and is all the better for it.
There’s an obvious advantage that comes with performers spending years living with their characters: they get under the skin, get comfortable, and start to really play with the role. It’s clear that Virginia Gay’s grip on Calamity Jane is so secure she can let rip and just have fun. Gay balances the various facets of Calamity with ease and manages to wring more pathos from the pantomime romances than you might think possible. Her Calamity Jane is both reserved and guarded, but also thirsty AF.
This interactive show really shines when it’s shoving its ample bosom in the audience’s face – so to speak (and a shout-out to Victoria Falconer’s rambunctious performance that had the front row both amused and aroused). With cabaret seating filling the floor of the Opera House Studio, the performers bump and grind their way around the room. This is playful silliness worthy of Blazing Saddles – somehow capturing the blithe innocence of its age and a modern awareness of its charms.
To 21st-century eyes, the idea that Calamity isn’t just a “tomboy”, but is in all likelihood queer, seems obvious. Ironically, we don’t need to make a whole song and dance about it. Whether you read her as bisexual, lesbian, or fluid, it’s all just a plot point on the way to the classic happy ending.
Which led me to wonder: in 2025, does foregrounding the well-documented queer subtext of Calamity Jane actually benefit the story?
On one level, the answer is an unqualified “yes”. By letting the attraction between Calamity and Katie play out, the scenes gain extra depth, saving the show from its own historical twee-ness. In a straight interpretation, “A Woman’s Touch” is just a pointless bit of fluff padding out the show. With the queer subtext established, it gives the story extra momentum and complication. It elevates this light musical comedy romp into a cheeky and ridiculous farce – something this production plays right into, to great effect.
But it also serves as a distraction from the core emotional journey – Calamity’s realisation that she’s actually in love with her gruff sparring partner, Bill. Now, to find “true love”, Calamity has to be rejected by both Lt. Danny and Katie – leaving poor Wild Bill relegated to being her third choice, a consolation prize. Honestly, I have more faith in Susan (Victoria Falconer) and Francis’s (Tyran Stig, understudying for Ryan Gonzalez) “lavender marriage” than I do in Calamity and Bill’s.
It reminds me of a speech from Matthew Lopez’s The Inheritance. Here it is, slightly edited:
Eric: You know what I miss? I miss the feeling that being gay was like being a member of a secret club… that liminal space when we were out but also, I don’t know, still kinda mysterious and opaque to society… It was a secret club with a secret language and shared, secret experiences…
Jason 2: Being gay doesn’t feel remarkable anymore. It’s like, “Oh, you’re gay? Ho-hum, what other tricks can you do?”
And I’ll be honest – I do kinda miss the ‘wink wink’ nature of those celluloid-closet classics. Of course, I don’t miss an age that forced queer people to hide, but there definitely used to be a thrill in spotting the Easter eggs and decoding the hidden intent.
Am I overthinking a silly little musical? Definitely – welcome to my brain.
None of which detracts from the fact that this is a good, fun night at the opera (house). This show is designed to maximise your entertainment with an easily digestible story, lots of meta-textual jokes, a bit of saucy-but-safe sexuality, and a chance for us all to have a good laugh.
From the opening double act of Phillip Lowe and Victoria Falconer setting the scene, to splash-zone antics with multiple spit-takes, beautiful vocal harmonies, and unexpected interactions – Calamity Jane is here to raise your spirits and ensure you leave the room happier than when you walked in.
Cultural Binge 
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