Last night, Adelaide audiences were treated to a virtuosic performance of voice and character at Her Majesty’s Theatre, where Bernadette Robinson’s Divas took centre stage as part of the Adelaide Cabaret Festival.
Looming behind her, Andy Warhol-esque pop-art portraits of ten legendary women provided visual cues for the transformations to come. Whenever Robinson steps into a new character, subtle lighting highlights the relevant portrait acting as a quiet assist for the audience, though the vocal and physical shifts are almost instantly recognisable.
Across six microphones spread across the stage, Robinson moves with ease — no wigs or costume changes necessary. Her ability to morph both vocally and physically (via mannerisms) into each diva is astonishing. Close your eyes, and you’d swear all ten were performing live on that very stage.
The show opens with the unmistakable high-pitch of Kate Bush performing Wow, complete with signature hand gestures. The structure throughout the show remains consistent: a song to transport us into the world of each diva, followed by monologue-style reflections in their speaking voice. Bush reflects on how Cathy, the character in Wuthering Heights, lives within her when she sings.
Shirley Bassey follows, dramatically belting Diamonds Are Forever with a long, powerful “foreverrrrrr.” Robinson shares Bassey’s heartbreak over the death of her daughter, how she grieved through her vocal cords, and found solace in returning to the stage. This Is My Life closes the section with defiant grandeur.
Then comes Karen Carpenter, gently introduced by the band singing Close to You. Carpenter’s speaking voice recalls the duo’s squeaky-clean image, which didn’t hurt their success, given they sold five million records. Rainy Days and Mondays leads into a raw reflection on obsessive dieting, ending with the chilling line that “the only way to stop is dying.”
Next is Edith Piaf, whose defiant Je ne regrette rien gives way to musings on men and love. A less commonly heard piece, La Belle Histoire d’Amour, offers a poignant moment before Piaf declares she lives in the present, cueing a triumphant return to Je ne regrette rien. It should be noted that Robinson’s command of the French ‘R’, which is tricky for non-French speakers, is flawless.
In an abrupt, yet delightful, turn, we meet Dolly Parton, all Southern drawl and rhinestone charm. Robinson, as Dolly, cheekily says of her husband: “Carl lets me do what I think is right and I let Carl do what I think is right.” She sings Dumb Blonde and tells the bittersweet story of parting ways with her manager, the man for whom she wrote I Will Always Love You, later made iconic by Whitney Houston and the film The Bodyguard.
Then storms in Miley Cyrus, Dolly’s goddaughter, with Wrecking Ball. Miley confides that music is her hiding place and admits, “I may have gone too far partying, but I survived.” Her feminist anthem Flowers delivers a surprising, empowering punch with the line: “I can love me better than you can.”
A shift in tone follows in Bernadette Robinson Divas as Barbra Streisand takes the spotlight with Memory from Cats. She recalls wanting to be an actress, only taking a nightclub singing job for the money, until she realised she could act through song by creating characters. Robinson delivers I Am the Greatest Star (Funny Girl), and later Being Alive (Company), encapsulating Streisand’s pursuit of authenticity: “Performing is about believing I am enough.”
From musicals to opera, Robinson next channels Maria Callas in a jaw-dropping vocal transformation. As Callas, she reflects on the pain of public criticism: “No one thought how the things they said might be tearing me down.” Then come powerful renditions of Suicidio! from La Gioconda and La donna è mobile. Of her tumultuous love affair with Aristotle Onassis, she smirks: “I don’t regret every bit of it.”
In stark contrast to the opera, Amy Winehouse arrives, all Cockney edge and wounded pride. Following the Callas section, Back to Black feels heartbreakingly appropriate. Robinson-as-Winehouse admits to emotions she doesn’t want to face and a belief that “you have to suffer for your art.” Rehab and You Know I’m No Good drive the message home with raw honesty.
Finally, we meet Judy Garland. She scoffs at being called temperamental: “I haven’t been able to afford to be temperamental,” she says, before declaring that the only harm she’s ever done was singing Over the Rainbow. Loneliness hangs in the air as she sings The Man That Got Away. But there’s redemption too — in her connection with audiences, and in her closing number: There’s No Business Like Show Business.
What unites the divas that Robinson embodies in Bernadette Robinson Divas isn’t just fame, it’s feeling. Grief, addiction, loneliness, and resilience thread through many of their stories. Karen Carpenter, Amy Winehouse, Miley Cyrus, and Maria Callas battled disorders and addiction (not that Callas’ addiction was mentioned). Shirley Bassey and Edith Piaf endured devastating losses (although Piaf’s weren’t mentioned). Judy Garland struggled under public scrutiny and personal sorrow.
Even those whose stories aren’t shaped by tragedy, like Barbra Streisand, Dolly Parton, and Kate Bush, bring emotional honesty, boldness, and individuality to their art. In Robinson’s hands, each woman is celebrated for her complexity as much as her voice.
To journey from Kate Bush to Edith Piaf, from Maria Callas to Miley Cyrus in under two hours (without an interval) is a remarkable feat. Bernadette Robinson: Divas is no mere impersonation act: it’s a masterclass in vocal and emotional incarnation. It’s truly astonishing how effortlessly Robinson shifts not just voices but personas from accent to posture, tone to timing. One moment she’s all Southern sass; the next, she’s opera royalty. Her ability to traverse musical genres and emotional worlds is nothing short of extraordinary.
From Je ne regrette rien to Suicidio!, from Dumb Blonde to Back to Black, Robinson doesn’t just perform; she disappears into these women and lets their voices rise once more. Bernadette Robinson Divas is not a cover concert. It’s a celebration of survival, of performance, and of the extraordinary women who dared to sing their truth. At the heart of it all is Robinson’s own extraordinary gift: the rare ability to channel ten divas in one night with elegance, empathy, and astonishing vocal precision.
5 CROISSANTS
Matilda Marseillaise was a guest of Adelaide Cabaret Festival
The show was performed at the festival for one night only.
More Adelaide Cabaret Festival:
Davina and the Vagabonds transported Adelaide Cabaret Festival audiences to the era of American jazz
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