REVIEW: Steel Magnolias - Gold Coast Little Theatre
- Samantha Hancock
- Jun 13
- 6 min read

“I’m not crazy. I’ve just been in a very bad mood for the last 40 years.”
Southern Comfort at Its Finest
In their milestone 75th year, Gold Coast Little Theatre presents a heartfelt and homely staging of Steel Magnolias, thoughtfully directed by Tony Campbell. Robert Harling’s 1987 play may be decades old, but its exploration of female strength and unshakeable friendship is as resonant as ever. The title says it all: these women are as delicate as magnolias, yet steely at their core.
The dialogue is a treat, quick, clever, and full of Southern spice. Campbell’s direction honours the script’s emotional honesty, allowing humour, heartbreak, and humanity to bloom organically. He leans into a grounded, naturalistic style so that each emotional beat rises and falls with authenticity. The story is given room to breathe, with well-timed pauses, punchy laughs, and raw emotion. The conversations feel real: gossip mingles with wisdom, and laughter cushions sorrows.

Set entirely in a beauty salon in small-town Louisiana, Steel Magnolias offers a window into six women’s lives as they navigate weddings, babies, holidays, heartbreaks, and healing. At its centre is Shelby, a young woman with type 1 diabetes, and her strong-willed mother, M’Lynn, as she makes life-altering choices about marriage and motherhood.
The play unfolds across four separate days at the salon. It begins on Annelle’s first day, which also happens to be Shelby’s wedding day. This is followed by a lively Christmas gathering, then a reunion some years later marked by life-changing news, and finally, a crisp autumn morning where the air is colder, the stakes are higher, and the bond between these women feels stronger than ever. The rhythms of their community—how news spreads, the small rituals, and the quiet acts of support—feel comfortingly familiar. I’ve never seen the film, but it’s no wonder this play is so cherished. This cast brings it to life with the perfect mix of timing, twang, and tenderness.
A Sisterhood in Sync

It’s in the haven of Truvy’s store and the comfort of a salon chair that we meet the six women whose lives intertwine through years of celebrations, challenges, and growth. The ensemble is strong across the board, with each actor bringing unique depth to capture their character's authenticity.
Corinne Le Claire delivers a searing, honest performance as M’Lynn: equal parts composed strength and vulnerability cracked open. Her climactic monologue, filled with shaking rage and an unbearable sorrow, is one of the production’s most powerful moments. The emotional crescendo lands like a punch to the chest, and what makes it even more affecting is how the rest of the cast responds to her anguish, as if they’re hearing it for the very first time.
From the moment Olivia French steps onstage, she radiates optimism. Her portrayal of Shelby balances youthful hope with steely resolve, capturing the quiet complexities of invisible illness with grace. Whether she’s beaming about her wedding or standing her ground against her mother’s concern, her spirit is luminous, drawing everyone in. The chemistry between French and Le Claire is tender and layered, especially in the simmering tension that threads through their mother-daughter relationship.

Katie Stargazer brings charm and warmth to Truvy, the beating heart of the salon. With big hair and an even bigger heart, she commands the space with a friendly, no-nonsense presence. As the glue that holds this group together, Truvy is always ready with a quip, a kind word, or a teasing nudge. Stargazer brings sparkle and steadiness to the role, anchoring the salon as both refuge and routine. Her evolving bond with Annelle is a beautiful slow burn that blossoms over time.
As Annelle, Tianna Paget gives a beautifully restrained and grounded performance. Her character’s evolution—from shy and uncertain stylist to self-assured and devout community member—unfolds with organic ease (all while sporting gorgeous hair of her own). She uses posture, tone, and expression to chart this transformation, without requiring any big, dramatic moments. By the end of the play, Annelle feels like a fully realised, completely changed woman, and the subtlety of that shift makes it all the more powerful.

Kate Peters OAM is a scene-stealer as the grumpy and glorious Ouiser. Her every entrance delights, and each line lands with perfect comedic bite. She masterfully balances exasperation with care, never tipping into caricature. Sharp, unpredictable, and endlessly entertaining, Peters garners some of the show’s biggest laughs with nothing more than a well-timed groan or a deadly look.

Laney McLean is an elegant favourite as Clairee, bringing a calm poise that beautifully balances the more eccentric energies around her. McLean delivers some of the script’s most iconic one-liners as her dry wit slices through the conversation with surgical precision, while her character’s quiet wisdom and maternal presence add warmth to every scene she’s in.
Live Beauty in Action
The entire play unfolds in Truvy’s bustling beauty salon, one of the most richly detailed sets I’ve seen in some time. Designed by Andrew Kassab and Lawrie Esmond, the staging is a masterclass in immersive world-building. Wood-panelled floors, working wash station, hair-drying hood, floral artwork, seasonal décor, and shelves stacked with beauty products—you can almost smell the conditioner and hairspray! It’s not just a backdrop—it’s a seventh character—a sanctuary, a confessional, a community hub.
Adding an extra layer of authenticity is the live hairstyling and beauty work, overseen by Ann-Britt Riget during rehearsal. From nail painting and roller setting to full-on hair washing and blow-drying, everything happens in real time. This tactile pampering unfolds right before our eyes, grounding the show in realism and heightening our sense of intimacy with the space.

A particularly clever directorial choice lies in how the transitions between the four acts are handled. Instead of elaborate or jarring set changes, stagehands—disguised as salon staff—quietly reset the space, spritzing counters and refreshing props as though preparing for a new day of clients. Paired with calming music, these transitions gently signal the passage of time while the actors change costumes with impressive speed.

Andrew Borg’s lighting design subtly shapes the show’s emotional arc, shifting with the seasons and moods. During Shelby’s hypoglycaemic episode, the salon’s warm glow fades just enough to signal a chilling change. Later, as the tone darkens, the light gradually drains from the space, echoing the heaviness carried by the characters. The lighting never demands attention—it's quiet, intentional, and responsive.

Costumes, by Katie Stargazer, suit each character to a tee. From Truvy’s bold prints and chunky hoops to Clairee’s chic elegance and Shelby’s signature pinks, every outfit is a reflection of personality. Ouiser, of course, is delightfully unbothered—her wardrobe is as unpredictable as she is. These thoughtful costume choices give us a sense of who these women are before they even open their mouths.
Simon Fox’s sound design gives the world a subtle but vital heartbeat. The soft hum of a radio, the bark of a dog, gunshots—these ambient cues ground us firmly in Chinquapin Parish, reminding us that the life extends beyond the salon’s walls, even as these women’s stories unfold within.
One of the production’s quietest strengths is its ambiguous sense of era. While some elements suggest a modern setting—like the clothes and hairstyles—others, like landline phones, portable radios, and the unhurried pace of life, evoke a bygone time. The show floats in a kind of timeless in-between: familiar and unbound by specific dates. It’s a smart, subtle choice that allows the story’s emotional truths to resonate across generations.

A Love Letter to Womanhood
At its heart, Steel Magnolias is a celebration of community; the kind that flourishes over coffee, laughter, and a fresh hairstyle. It’s about chosen family, the people who show up for each other through joy and heartache. Though we never meet the men so often mentioned, their presence lingers in the women’s stories. More than that, we sense the hum of a whole town just beyond the salon walls, supporting, complicating, and ultimately loving.

This isn’t a show of spectacle or grand drama. Its power lies in its truth. The women we meet in Truvy’s salon are gloriously human: funny, fierce, generous, complicated, and strong in ways that aren’t always loud. This show is a tribute to real women and real love. Their strength is in showing up. In listening. In knowing when to crack a joke and when to simply offer a hand. And the script walks that tightrope between comedy and drama with grace, teaching us how to laugh, how to cry, and how to do both at the same time.
That final act—where the women gather again, bruised but unbroken—lands with profound emotional weight. The salon endures, just like they do. And in the smallest gestures—a friend brushing your hair, handing you a coffee, or making you laugh when you thought you couldn’t—the play offers gentle answers to life’s biggest questions. How do we keep going? The answer is simple: together.
Nothing about this production feels overworked or performative. It’s lovingly observed, deeply grounded, and drawn with tender clarity. It moves with the rhythm of real conversation, and in doing so, it feels less like theatre and more like overhearing a conversation at your hairdresser's, eavesdropping on women who remind you of your mum, your friends, maybe even yourself. It is theatre that is lovingly crafted from top to bottom. Like the best kind of haircut, it leaves you feeling a little lighter, a little braver, and a little more yourself.

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