An embarrassment of bitches -or bitchiness – THE LYIN’ QUEEN is a drag show that drags. Cheap shots rather than top shelf satire makes do with this shallow show of mash ups and put downs.
With a fetishist shlong in their arts, the co-creators of this prehistoric mash up of Lion King, Jurassic Park and King Kong stretch a sketch with parody lyrics of popular songs and show tunes.
THE LYIN’ QUEEN begins with a detestable devouring of a female, a masticating misogyny, followed by an entourage of a boxing kangaroo and a dingo with a blood stained baby in its jaw, a khaki clad chap skewered by a stingray and Ossie Ostrich promenading with a Daryl Somers masked puppeteer with a paw up its clacker. Funny as a feather duster. Where’s Syd Heylen and Honest Jon when you need them?
Trevor Ashley directs and stars as Gay Wraye, a transitive cousin twice removed from Fay, a Home & Away star now domiciled in LA.
She is contacted by naturalist Richard Rabbitborough (played by co-writer, Phil Scott) to come to his island off the coast of FNQ to promote his new theme resort, Thoracic Park. Cue the abdomen laughs.
Shannon Dooley is Fern, a botanist who likes to shake her booty and Brendan Irving, playing a Norwegian Indiana Jones who morphs into a bombastic jungle boy in leopard skin shorts. It’s Johnny left of Sheffield.
Elenoa Rokobaro plays a pseudo indigenous chief who knows how to belt out a song.
Cameron Mitchell’s choreography is at once inventive and dull, 80s throwback to tight trousered boy and twerking tush girl.
There’s nothing in the show that’s particularly new; cutting edge as a sponge, sharp edges are blunted by the shrill. THE LYIN’QUEEN is Carry On territory, Carry on Camping, with nothing intense.