Breakdancer Rachael Gunn generated headlines in December after sending a legal notice to comedian Steph Broadbridge, creator of Raygun: The Musical. Broadbridge cancelled the show before its Sydney premiere, but the now “completely legal parody musical” has finally debuted with a new title. All that pre-show publicity might have helped it sell out its Adelaide Fringe run, but on opening night the ensemble cast fight an uphill battle to live up to the free exposure.
The first frame audiences see projected on the stage is a slide of a kangaroo dressed as a lawyer with the disclaimer: “All characters in this show are fictional, even the ones that seem like they are not. The ones that seem like they are someone really specific and you are pretty sure they are based on someone real… No they are made up too.”
The crooked projector was one of a few technical issues levels that left vocalists fighting over the band, with many a joke washed out across a production peppered with distortion and feedback throughout. The cast admirably powered through, but spirits were dampened.
The show follows the breakdancing journey of ‘Spraygun’ — which involves far more thesis writing than actual dancing — from Sydney’s Upper North Shore Hornsby Shire to Paris’ 2024 Olympics. According to promotional materials, the production hoped to find an audience in “digital spectators turned devoted subculture”. While the real Raygun certainly sent the internet into a frenzy during the Olympics, by February 2025 the energetic ensemble are left to play with material that is already tired.
To Broadbridge’s credit, legal threats were not enough to stop her from taking an artistic risk on this show. In fact, the legal issues have given her an arsenal of comedic material that the show would have been far less interesting without. More nods to the controversy arrive with a reoccurring judge character who occasionally interrupts the performers when a scene is about to step into slander or a trademarked move.
The show is strongest when it leans on other musical theatre references. The encore parodies Funny Girl’s ‘Don’t Rain On My Parade’, pleading to not bring around a lawyer to rain on Broadbridge’s parade. An intimate scene between Spraygun and her husband Sammy nods to The Rocky Horror Picture Show, we meet Spraygun’s fellow Olympic qualifiers in a parody of Hamilton’s ‘The Room Where it Happens’, and even Rent’s ‘Seasons of Love’ is thrown in for good measure.
The kangaroo dance does make an appearance after some teasing, and the cast got most of the audience on its feet to participate.
The script had some moments of nuanced commentary, like calling out how the elevation of sports like breakdancing to the Olympics can leave out the marginalised communities that contribute to its original subculture culture. In this context, Spraygun’s role in this space can be seen as a kind of cultural appropriation.
Freddie McManus brought a compelling physicality as Sammy, while Broadbridge gave an endearing innocence to Spraygun who seemed genuinely perplexed by the reaction she received post-Olympics. Spraygun’s glittered Olympic kit was also a costuming highlight.
Other elements, like Jake Howie’s portrayal of Spraygun’s inner voice, was more cringeworthy than funny, and a symptom of a plot that needed padding. The ensemble’s choreography also tended to fall out of sync, often obscuring the projected backgrounds and creating an unpolished feel — and not in a way that added to the broader parody.
Despite the gift of material that Gunn herself gave the show, she probably needn’t have worried. Her 15 minutes of fame, and this tongue-in-cheek attempt to stretch it beyond its original meme cycle, ultimately ends up falling flat. Which is kind of perfect too.
Breaking the Musical is at The Garage International @ Adelaide Town Hall until 2 March