REVIEW: The Sapphires - Queensland Theatre Company

The Sapphires

Queensland Theatre Company

Bille Brown Theatre

28 April – 24 May 2026

Written by: Tony Briggs

Directed by: Wesley Enoch

Musical Director: Nathaniel Andrew

Choreographer: Yolande Brown

Set and Costume Designer: Richard Roberts

Lighting Designer: Ben Hughes

Video Designer: Craig Wilkinson

Sound Designer: Isaac Ogilvie

Photography: David Kelly

“You can’t be from Australia, you’re not white”

Written by Tony Briggs and directed by Wesley Enoch, The Sapphires follows four Yorta Yorta women whose girl-group harmonies take them from local talent quests all the way to Vietnam to entertain troops on the frontlines. Inspired by the real First Nations women behind The Sapphires, the work carries a legacy of family, music, survival, and hard-won joy.

Many know The Sapphires from the 2012 film, but the stage version offers its own particular thrill, with live songs that will make you dance in your seat. This is a story full of joy, but it is never joy without context. Even as the story moves through racism, war, grief, and fear, it keeps its groove. The weight lands when it needs to, but so does the laughter, the flirting, the sisterly squabbling, and the daggy dancing.

Before the show, a small black-and-white TV sits centre stage, flickering with images of history, pop culture, and war. It is a clever little time capsule to place us inside the broadcast world of the 1960s. This retro TV and Craig Wilkinson’s scrim projections create a space caught somewhere between a live gig and a television transmission. Richard Roberts’ set features a glossy black floor, raised performance space, four-piece band, and a glittering The Sapphires sign overhead. It is flexible enough to shift from family home to beachfront, army barracks, concert stage, and war zone. While Roberts' costumes bring the period to life with colour, sparkle, and those glorious white go-go boots.

As the story shifts to Vietnam, the theatre pulls us into the environment: haze in the air, rain noise around us, the smell of cigarettes, helicopters approaching from behind, bombs splitting the music, gunfire cracking through. One moment we are clapping along like we are part of the crowd, and the next, we're hit with the reality of exactly where that concert is happening. Isaac Ogilvie’s sound design does superb work here, particularly in the climactic final moments of Act One.

The four women form the heart of the production, and they complement each other beautifully. Taeg Twist brings warmth and strength to Gail McCrae, the group's self-appointed mother hen. Gail is talkative, loud, protective, stubborn and often found rolling her eyes at the world. Beneath that tough-as-nails facade is a woman who's made it her mission to hold everything together, whether anyone asked her to or not. Her singing voice is incredible, but it’s her acting that truly grounds the emotional stakes. When she belts out the heartfelt tune "People Make This World a Better Place," with images of the real Sapphires flashing on screen, it's a heart-stirring moment.

Ruby Henaway is a riot as Cynthia McCrae, strutting into every conversation like she has already decided she is the star of the show. Cynthia is hilariously bold, unashamedly herself, and allergic to behaving. Henaway has epic pipes, but when Cynthia sings through her hurt, you catch the ache hiding beneath all that confidence.

Aurora Liddle-Christie is lovely as Kay McCrae, the sensible one of the sisters. She's got her own traumatic past, so she carries herself with a slightly different rhythm from the others. There is a quiet complexity in the way she presents herself to the world, and Liddle-Christie handles that tension with grace. She keeps the group grounded while still being a total goofball, managing to stand out without letting the louder personalities overshadow her, at least from my perspective.

And finally, there is Tehya Makani as Julie McCrae, the baby sister with a voice that can stop a room. Julie starts as a frightened, grumpy, uncertain young woman, but she's sharp enough to spot a good chance when it comes along. Her performance of "Respect" is a proper arrival moment, showing off serious star power and the exact amount of attitude the song demands.

Together, these four performers are wonderful. Their characters are all very different, yet they share the same family fire. You can see it in the way they look at each other onstage with genuine pride in their eyes, the kind that makes you believe these women have fought, laughed, judged, loved, and survived each other for years. Their a-cappella sisterly moment, "Ngarra Burra Ferra", is particularly beautiful. In a production full of big numbers, that quieter moment lands with emotional force. The romantic threads are surprisingly tender too. Each of the girls gets some version of longing, flirtation, disappointment, or hope, and none of it feels like filler between songs.

Jack Bannister is wonderfully endearing as Dave Lovelace, the Aussie talent scout who is, frankly, a bit of a numpty. His attempts at dancing are truly white-man-in-public, but in the most affectionate way. Bannister gives Dave enough awkwardness to be funny and enough sincerity to be likeable, especially in his interactions with Gail.

Garret Lyon is a charming nuisance as Jimmy, Cynthia’s ex-boyfriend and a man with very little chill. His interest in Cynthia is stalker-like to the extreme, yet Lyon somehow keeps him charmingly hopeless rather than alarming. His dancing is a highlight in itself, and every time he appears, the show gets a little extra boost.

Chris Nguyen is delightful as Joe, a fourteen-year-old Vietnamese boy hustling to support himself and his family (often through pilfering). His dynamic with Julie is sweet, with both characters still teenagers trying to navigate adult circumstances. The parallel between Joe’s family and the Sapphires’ family, both with seven sisters and one brother, is a small and touching connection that helps humanise the Vietnamese experience within the broader wartime setting. While the war's effect on actual Vietnamese citizens isn't deeply explored, it's still present enough to make an impression.

Cameron Leonard nails the comic awkwardness as an American soldier Robby, even making an entrance while dangling upside down in a parachute. It is silly, memorable, and exactly the kind of lighthearted character that this production knows how to use well.

Nathaniel Andrew’s musical direction gives the 1960s soul classics real warmth and drive, and having the band live onstage keeps the energy immediate. The four-piece band, with Andrew also on guitar, supports the performers beautifully without overpowering them. Songs including "Heatwave", "The Shoop Shoop Song", and "Ain’t No Mountain High Enough" are crowd-pleasers for a reason, and this cast knows how to sell them. I left with a bunch of those tunes stuck in my head, which usually means the jukebox-style musical hit the mark.

Yolande Brown’s choreography sits beautifully in the world of the piece. It is stylish, character-driven, and full of groove without looking over-rehearsed to death. The girls move as a unit, but not like four identical backup dancers. Each performer brings her own rhythm, attitude, and little flashes of personality, which makes the group numbers feel true rather than pasted on top.

Ben Hughes’ lighting shifts smoothly from stage glamour to intimacy and wartime tension. One moment, the girls are glowing under concert lights; the next, the world around them feels exposed and unstable. Wilkinson’s projections are equally effective, moving from starlit nights and vibrant colours for performances to combat footage and broadcast history. The “travel vlog” style sequence is a clever way to cover scene and costume changes while keeping the pace moving, and the production rarely lets its energy sag. By the time the megamix arrives, the show has fully earned its celebration. Using the aisles gives the finale an immersive lift, and the audience response was exactly what you would expect from a practically sold-out season of a feel-good Australian classic.

What makes this production so effective is its tonal balance, and Wesley Enoch’s direction steers that balance with a sure hand. The Sapphires is set during the Vietnam War, with depictions of racism, violence, abortion, family conflict, and the frightening reality of young women surrounded by men with guns in a foreign country. On paper, that sounds heavy. Onstage, it is still serious, but it is also kept colourful, romantic, cheeky, and alive. Enoch allows the sparkle to sit beside the danger without letting one cancel out the other.

Queensland Theatre Company’s The Sapphires is big-hearted, moving, and full of soul. It celebrates the women behind the story while giving a new generation of First Nations performers the chance to step into that legacy with pride. It sings as a concert, aches as a family story, and stays with you as a love letter to Blak women who knew their worth long before the world caught up.