Above and featured image: (l-r) Cabaret stars and queer mentors Cara Whitehouse and Juliet Hindmarsh rewrite smash hits in this thought-provoking piece. Photo credit: Sarah Malone.
Is this show pretty enough? It sure is.
Pretty new. Pretty different. Pretty damn honest. Pretty bloody funny. Pretty perfect Mardi Gras Festival fare. Pretty well what we need to start understanding what it means to be queer in 2025.
Pretty timely and pretty much an irresistable celebration in close proximity to the Parade weekend. This show’s season was also pretty close to the fabulous Qtopia’s first anniversary. That new Sydney performance hub with its sanctuary for queer thought already has an impressive stable of pretty amazing productions, pushing the envelope of LGBTQIA2+ profiles energetically up in front of us.
Despite growing acceptance of queer lifestyles, pronoun and identity awareness plus diversity this decade, many queers back in the 90’s and 00’s were discovering themselves to a heteronormative soundtrack, trying to fit in to the wrong songs in a TV-imperfect, reality-biting Saturday Smash Hits style.
Above: Kermit Cara at the keyboard exploring ‘The Rainbow Connection’. Photo credit: Sarah Malone.
I Want It That Gay, a clever queer cabaret from the dynamic duo Cara Whitehouse and Juliet Hindmarsh bursts the bubble of a century-bending, ever-broadening rainbow. Far from being a mere retro jukebox musical, this sharing of heads, hearts, growing up and settling down in ourselves is a winner with regards to format and content. It is perhaps the reality check we may have thought we didn’t need.
This shows numbers boldly troubleshoot attitudes. When doing so it remains fresh despite the frustration of challenging stereotypes, memory and a sometimes insufficient status quo. This is an electric, entertaining romp that has the audience laughing, crying, nodding, questioning and clapping.
Starting with a loaded Rainbow Connection the two different protagonists present tracks from Cheryl Crow to Spice Girls, from Backstreet Boys to Andrew Lloyd Webber to better express their survival of the classic House of the Rising Heteronormal un.
Above: Guitarist, skater and vocalist Juliet Hindmarsh. Photo credit: Sarah Malone.
Musically speaking, this show is tight, endearing us to cheer Cara and Juliet on, no pity needed. The lyrical manipulation with the skill and sensitivities of fine musicians is genius at times. Its accurate encapsulation of frustration, friendship, feral society and faux confidences is accompanied by great solo or duet performances of the reborn anthems. This is stunning and subtle stage work, a renovation of the chart toppers we grew up with, lifting us right up where we belong.
This duo-cabaret, decked out in Spice Girls and The L-Word’s Bette Porter merch is head, shoulders, a few skateboard trucks and many mullet lengths above the regular one-spirit, single-singer show. The keen comic and emotional roller coaster timing is solidly established by the pair. Greater experience can be shared in duo-cabaret. Some beautiful harmonies drop in seamlessly throughout and a range of identity excursion hairstyles and states of growth plus regrowth can be hilariously and proudly discussed.
The cabaret musicians also reveal their acting skill in comedy skits dotted throughout the show. Their depictions in hectic wigs of old-school mothers bring us spot-on portrayals of the non-woke, non-Inner West joggers Beryl and Cheryl. These segments showed us where one should not be. They are unfortunately described as being extensions of the stars’ past experiences with parents. Chez and Bez’s accents and this cabaret’s accentuation of their queerphobia as the ridiculous ‘other’ is one of the priceless smash hits of this show.
Above: Misguided mother action from Cheryl and Beryl.
Other highlights or hits from this show include the ‘firsts’ or common experiences discussed- as in first kisses, crushes or of coming outs. Of break ups, fashion choices or being mis-gendered.
Strong images in the cabaret flow such as Juliet being bound in a string of pride flags various are memorable. Also, the hairdresser re-enactments with Progress Flag smocks are a hoot.
Cara’s warm sharing of a growth into identity, into pronouns and pondering potential motherhood is a tender, sobering moment. These big questions were in this cabaret shown to be still on the queer change-table in our society. When the final coda of several songs end, it is easy to realise that we 2025 queers, like any baby, still need plenty of nurturing.
And nurture us these colourful cabaret performers do in I Want It That Gay, whilst consolidating personal histories. Hopefully the future will see this show’s superheroes, the mullet-caped crusader Cara and Juliet-wonder, be able to take their tales of much-needed truth to new audiences Australia-wide and beyond.
