REVIEW: Rhinestone Rex and Miss Monica - Queensland Theatre

Pride and Prejudice: The Rom-Com Kitchen Reno Edition (if Lizzie Bennet played violin and Mr Darcy wore hi-vis)

What happens when you cross a former concert violinist who loves Mahler with a tradie who enjoys country music? A hilariously mismatched rom-com about kitchen renovations, emotional repression, and the unexpected ways we find connection.

Queensland Theatre’s Rhinestone Rex and Miss Monica is a heartwarming comedy crafted by David Williamson, with Mark Kilmurry making a triumphant return to the director’s chair. The play stars Georgie Parker and Glenn Hazeldine, reprising their original roles from the production’s premiere. There’s a special kind of thrill in watching actors return to roles years later; you get the sense they know these characters like old friends, with the extra lived experience that only time can bring. For us younger theatregoers who missed the show the first time around, it’s a gift to witness this revival now.

Based on a true story, the premise is charmingly simple. Monica hires Gary (aka Rhinestone Rex) to redo her kitchen. She’s a no-nonsense, former orchestral musician with a bit of a prickly edge. He’s a former country music star (or is he?) who hosts a radio program when he's not busy renovating kitchens. Cue the culture clash! What follows is a hilarious clash of taste, class, and coping mechanisms. Her ears can’t stand his playlists; he doesn’t know a symphony from a sonata. But they both speak the language of grief, divorce, loneliness — and music.

Their tension is immediate, but it’s not romantic. Not at first. There’s pride, prejudice, and a whole lot of verbal swordplay about interior design and music composition; but also slow, careful character development. These two are defensive, emotionally constipated, and past the age where life is supposed to be exciting. But ever so slowly, they start to soften. They begin to share music. They listen. They try (awkwardly but adorably) to find common ground. They fight, drink, flirt, argue, and reveal their cracks.

Beneath all the one-liners and sparring is a tender, resonant story about identity, artistry, ageing, and the courage it takes to let someone in after life has let you down. There’s something deeply moving in watching two people who feel past their prime discover that maybe life still has a few melodies left for them. What I love most is that it doesn’t try too hard. It just tells a good story — a funny, relatable, often uncomfortably truthful story — and trusts its characters to do the heavy lifting. And they do.

Georgie Parker is pitch-perfect as Monica: sharp-tongued, emotionally armoured, and deeply committed to maintaining an aura of superiority… until wine is involved. Her drunken monologue about orchestra life - from inter-orchestra hookups to the addiction to applause and the sheer existential dread of having spent your youth tuning your soul to someone else’s baton, “we drink because we’re bored” honesty - is not just gut-bustingly funny but heartbreakingly real.

As a musician myself, Monica’s pain over losing her identity hit hard. There’s a brutal honesty in the way she describes no longer being able to watch classical concerts — not because she doesn’t love them, but because she does. Watching others do what once defined you, when you physically can’t anymore, is too painful and Parker plays it with aching authenticity. I’d feel the same if I couldn’t play or sing again; probably drowning my sorrow in shiraz each night too.

Glenn Hazeldine’s Gary is the perfect counterbalance: affable, oddly charming, and clearly winging his way through life one half-truth anecdote at a time. He’s the kind of guy who says too much, jokes too quickly, and finds it easier to open up to a radio audience than the woman sitting across the room. He’s a man who doesn’t quite know how to compliment without offending — whose big talk radio persona Rhinestone Rex doesn’t quite translate into emotional fluency in real life. His banter with Monica is snappy and well-timed, yet it’s those little moments of sincerity, awkwardness, and vulnerability that really shine. Beneath his bravado is someone desperate to connect and he manages to crack open Monica's emotional drywall in the process.

The set by Veronique Benett feels like someone’s actual living room. I kept thinking it looked suspiciously like mine, except tidier and with less cat fur. The lighting is warm, the soundtrack moves deftly between classical and country, and the whole thing flows with the kind of ease that only comes from incredibly thoughtful direction and years of chemistry. Daryl Wallis’ subtle score, peppered with both twangy country tunes and sweeping classical moments, perfectly underscores their emotional tug-of-war. The sound design is full of bangers (both literal and musical — there is a lot of kitchen hammering), and the whole production hums along beautifully.

What makes Rhinestone Rex and Miss Monica so rewarding is its simplicity. Two characters. One space. No tricks, no gimmicks — just great writing, two seasoned performers, and a whole lot of emotional honesty. It’s not trying to be profound, and in that lack of pretence, it finds something profound anyway. Two people who believe they’re past their prime, not even looking for another chance at love, passion, or purpose, but they start to rediscover that possibility again. These characters aren’t idealised or aspirational — they’re messy, defensive, stuck. They’re you, me, your neighbour, your ex. And in their stumbling attempts to connect, we see the kind of flawed humanity that’s both frustrating and comforting.

So whether you’re a Vivaldi devotee or a Dolly Parton diehard, there’s something deeply universal in this sweet, sharp, surprisingly soulful rom-com about rediscovering joy, even in unlikely places. About finding someone who, while seemingly your complete opposite, might just be singing in the same key after all.

This is a show for the romantics, cynics, music snobs, late-bloomers, and lonely hearts. For anyone who’s ever felt stuck, or lost, or just really annoyed by someone they probably have a crush on...

Don’t miss it before it closes on 21 June 2025! Tickets available here

Photography by Jade Ellis