Miss Ellaneous wept as the plane descended over the red centre and into Alice Springs. The Iwaidja and Malak Malak drag queen had just rewatched The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, and it felt like life was about to imitate art.
The following night under desert stars, she took to the stage at Lasseters casino, where the closing scenes of Priscilla were shot. In a spangled onesie, with a cheeky smile, she performed Abba’s Mamma Mia alongside fellow queen Marzi Panne.
“To know that I was coming to Lasseters and performing in the same areas that the movie was filmed really hit a nerve that I hadn’t felt before,” says the Darwin-based queen.
“I really see myself in Hugo Weaving’s character, Mitzi … I’m a drag queen, but I’m also a queer man, and I have a daughter.
“There is a message for all of us, whether you are from the LGBTQIA+ community or the dragging community or just live in a really remote little town … we all still face that discrimination daily.”
As a First Nations person, she also felt moved by the scene where Mitzi, Bernadette and Felicia meet a remote Aboriginal community. “In the film the majority of the places [the queens] stop, they’re interacting with non-Indigenous people and there’s often violence or discrimination, whereas with the First Nations people there was an acceptance … that was quite touching.”
This year marks the 30th anniversary of Priscilla and earlier this month, Alice Springs’ annual drag and cabaret festival FabAlice staged a tribute to Stephan Elliott’s film and its legacy, with 20 international and interstate acts performing in the town over four days.
Miss Ellaneous has been performing at the festival since it began in 2019, but this was her first year as a co-curator.
“The film has been part of all our lives in some way but because it’s the 30th anniversary, we really wanted to have that focus,” she says.
Top End king Donnie Piccolo said place-based festivals are important, because queer people in remote and regional communities often lack services and events that support them.
“Not everyone has had a good experience; you can never have too much love in a community,” he says. “The more time we spend with one another and understand each other the more love we can foster.”
“For me, drag is a way of expressing important issues as well as entertaining people. I feel it often helps people put their guards down and allows us all to connect … That’s what art does – you can suspend your current situation and enter a space where we go on a journey together.”
Piccolo says he felt a stillness fall over the audience when headline act Electric Fields played an acoustic version of their newest single One Milkali (One Blood), which they will soon be taking to the Eurovision song contest. The three-minute, ethereal version left attenders breathless and teary.
Electric Fields’ lead singer, Zaachariaha Fielding, says performing their song for the first time was like having a thousand Wikipedia tabs open in his mind. “It’s releasing our baby into the world … but I could absolutely feel the audience with us last night,” he says.
Like many regional events, local attendance was low, due in part to cost and criticisms that the festival needs more local representation: only one Arrernte drag queen, Estelle, who lives in South Australia, and Alice Springs-born DJ Cliterally performed. There were two local dancers at the night markets and during the final party, but they were not advertised as part of the lineup.
One local, who did not wish to be named, described the event as “incursion rather than invitation”. Event manager Dale McIver acknowledged FabAlice would like to see more local participation.
“The board includes members of the local queer and LQBTQIA+ community, including a youth representative and two First Nations representatives … We are always looking for more volunteer board members.”
She went on to say the board commissioned a number of local artists in early 2024, but several had to pull out before the festival.
There is a long history of queer, women’s and First Nations rights intersecting in the red centre. In 1983, a decade before Priscilla was shot in Alice Springs, a global movement called Women for Survival, which was largely represented by queer women, bussed into town to join traditional owners protesting against the American army base Pine Gap.
After more than 100 women were arrested for walking on to the base, many stayed in Alice, making it today one of the queerest places in regional Australia, according to 2016 census data.
For the next generation of queer kids, FabAlice brings a sense of pride. When the queens and kings parade down the street, it brings a sense of fun to the town, says festival youth ambassador Sorrell Diddams.
“At night this town gets quiet. It’s usually all kinds of silent,” the 15-year-old says.
“Queer is still underrepresented. You don’t see it a lot. So, to have that brought in, and to be on display, and to see people who are like me … that just gives you this sense of safety and sense of belonging.”
Diddams hopes more youth events will be incorporated into the festival next year. This year’s night-time performances were not all ages, which meant younger people missed out on watching headline acts.
It was a sentiment shared by both interstate and international acts.
Melbourne-based comedian Geraldine Hickey who grew up in a regional town, “didn’t think lesbians existed until Ellen”. If it weren’t for festivals like FabAlice it would be hard for young people to be what they “can’t see”, she says.
Ginny Lemon, a Britain-based drag queen who appeared on season two of RuPaul’s Drag Race UK, was one of four international queens who flew out for the festival. The non-binary artist’s subversive performance – combining sexy drag and gender-bending comedy – during the final night’s dance party had the audience crying with laughter.
Lemon says regional festivals are close to her heart, having grown up in England’s West Midlands.
“I’m a big believer in regional art; what I always hate is that as queer people we tend to gravitate towards big cities, and we feel we have to move to the capitals in order to be free,” she says.
“To have festivals like this, it just encourages people to be their open queer selves where they live and to retain that culture … with our families and with our friends.”
Her fellow RuPaul contestant Sister Sister says being able to express yourself fully in a small town felt surreal.
“It’s special being able to express yourself to the full extent of your creativity … not having to pop to the big cities just to feel seen better,” she says.
“[This] town is like this gorgeous queer little bubble that is just slap bang in the middle of all these ancient mountains … and I think I will have a really difficult time trying to comprehend that, even when we have left.”
For US queen Utica the experience of taking drag beyond the stage and into the red centre’s rolling landscapes felt “healing”.
“It’s been stunning to be able to bask in it and share our art with it,” she says. “I feel like a lot of our work lives in the underground. It lives in shadows. But it’s been such a healing experience to be able to bring our craft out into nature – and to meet a couple of flies too.”
A Parkinson attended FabAlice as a guest of Tourism NT
