REVIEW: Dirty Rotten Scoundrels

Opening night at the Hayes Theatre always carries a certain electricity. After a week of

relentless Sydney rain, the warm glow of the Hayes foyer felt particularly inviting. Patrons

squeezed together, glasses in hand, all eager to revisit or discover a story first brought to

audiences through the 1988 film starring Steve Martin and Michael Caine, before its musical

adaptation arrived on Broadway in 2004.

For me, this was a first encounter with Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. There is something uniquely

exciting about entering a musical with little knowledge of where it is headed. Settling into the

front row, my theatre date and I found ourselves firmly in the splash zone of whatever

mischief was about to unfold.

The premise is delightfully simple. Two professional conmen operating on the French Riviera

make a living charming wealthy women out of their money. One is sophisticated and

calculated, the other impulsive and chaotic. When their paths collide, a wager emerges, and

with it a battle of egos, deception and increasingly ridiculous schemes.

Photo credit: John McCrae

The first thing to catch my eye was the set. Dominated by a manual revolve framed with rails

and staircases, it immediately signalled a production willing to embrace theatricality over

realism. A functioning fountain sat centre stage, transforming throughout the evening from

public ornament to furniture, gaming table and focal point. It was an inventive design that

constantly asked the audience to meet it halfway.

Some of the most successful moments came from these transformations. Ensemble

members manually propelled the revolve to create the illusion of a moving train. Rails shifted

downstage to completely alter perspective. A flowing peach-pink curtain became hotel

lobbies, grand entrances and comic reveals. A cleverly designed couch swivelled and folded

to serve multiple purposes throughout the production.

Yet while the ambition was admirable, the execution occasionally struggled under the

practical limitations of the Hayes space. The revolve appeared cumbersome to manoeuvre,

with performers visibly working against its weight at times. There were moments where

tracks seemed to catch and transitions lost some of their fluidity. Likewise, the stair-heavy

design occasionally created awkward entrances and exits as performers negotiated multiple

levels. Clever, certainly. Masterfully realised, perhaps not quite.

The costumes offered some beautiful pastel palettes that evoked the glamour of the French

Riviera. There were moments where the stage looked lifted straight from a Slim Aarons

photograph, awash with peaches, pinks and sun-drenched elegance. However, the overall

design occasionally felt uneven, with certain looks appearing more considered than others.

In a production where character and status are so central to the storytelling, a little more

specificity in how costume design served the individual performers might have elevated the

visual world further.

Photo credit: John McCrae

Fortunately, the cast more than compensated.

Blake Erickson cuts an effortlessly elegant figure as Lawrence Jamieson. Dressed in immaculate

white suits, ankles conspicuously bare, hair perfectly slicked into place, he embodies Riviera

sophistication from the moment he steps onstage. Vocally, Erickson possesses a rich, velvety

timbre that suits the role beautifully. His Lawrence is smooth, controlled and entirely

believable as a man who has built a career on making people fall in love with him.

Opposite him, Rowan Witt delivers a masterclass in comic performance. Witt

possesses one of those wonderfully expressive faces that seems capable of communicating

three jokes simultaneously. At times he feels almost cartoon-like in his elasticity. His energy

radiates through the theatre, warming the room whenever he appears. Physical comedy is

often treated as an afterthought, but Witt understands it as a craft. Whether throwing

himself into elaborate deceptions or convincing complete strangers that heartbreak has

robbed him of the use of his legs, every gesture is specific, committed and deeply funny.

The female performers prove equally compelling. Kristina McNamara is the epitome of

darling in her initial appearances, charming, elegant and perfectly at home within the

heightened world of the Riviera. Then the show asks her to pivot. When the character's true

intentions are revealed, McNamara turns on a dime. The transformation is a triumph of

performance. Her physicality shifts, her dialect adjusts and suddenly an entirely different

woman is standing before us. It is the sort of reveal that only works when an actor commits

wholeheartedly to both versions of the character, and McNamara does so with impressive

confidence. She sings beautifully, dances effortlessly and carries herself with the assurance

of someone born to occupy a musical theatre stage.

Her chemistry with Witt is another of the production's strengths. Throughout the evening, the

pair build a believable connection, making the eventual twists all the more satisfying.

The supporting cast provide some of the evening's most memorable moments. Andre and

Muriel emerge as unexpected anchors of the story, their scenes landing with warmth and

precision. Their chemistry is impeccable. No notes.

One of the production's greatest strengths lies in its choreography. Cameron Boxall's work is sharp, dynamic and remarkably inventive given the constraints of the space. With multiple

levels, a revolve and limited floor area constantly competing for attention, the dance

sequences could easily have felt restricted. Instead, they become some of the evening's

highlights. Audible gasps emerged from the audience around me as performers navigated

the space with precision and confidence. The ensemble deserves particular praise. Every

performer appeared completely switched on, delivering choreography with impressive clarity

and commitment.

Photo credit: John McCrae

Which brings us to perhaps the most interesting question surrounding Dirty Rotten

Scoundrels in 2026.

Does the comedy still land?

The audience around me certainly seemed willing to go along for the ride. Outlandish

chuckles greeted jokes that felt distinctly of another era, from the show's gender politics to its portrayal of disability and the broad comic treatment of Ruprecht.

And yet I found myself wondering whether enjoyment and comfort are the same thing.

Was it funny? Yes. The audience laughed. I looked around and stifled a giggle. Does every

element sit comfortably in 2026? I'm not so sure.

The production does not shy away from the material. Nor should it. The show's central

premise revolves around men manipulating women for personal gain, and several comic

sequences ask performers to embrace behaviour that would be deeply questionable outside

the heightened world of farce. Director Rebecca McNamee trusts the audience to understand the

context and engage with the material as written.

Perhaps that tension is part of the show's continued fascination. Dirty Rotten Scoundrels

remains undeniably entertaining, but it also serves as a reminder of how quickly cultural

attitudes shift, and how comedy often reveals more about the era that created it than the era

that consumes it.

What cannot be disputed is the skill of the company assembled at the Hayes. Between

Cameron Boxall's exhilarating choreography, committed ensemble work, magnetic leading

performances and a production unafraid to embrace theatrical spectacle within the

constraints of an intimate venue, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels delivers a thoroughly enjoyable

evening of musical theatre.

Even when I wasn't entirely convinced by every joke, I was consistently impressed by the

artists telling them.

The season is set to sell out quickly, make sure you get in to see it, you won’t regret it. Be sure to get your tickets to see Dirty Rotten Scoundrels playing at Hayes Theatre Co until the 21st of June!

4 out of 5 Stars