The Melbourne Theatre Company’s production of Julia blends hagiography with a meticulous performance, showcasing Julia Gillard’s resolute stand against sexism. While it often veers into a broad and indulgent territory, Justine Clarke’s powerful depiction of the 27th Australian Prime Minister is a testament to the strength of self-assertion encapsulated in three words—’ I will not’. Clarke’s performance is a standout; she embodies the role with a fiery and indignant spirit that perfectly captures this pivotal moment in Australian politics.
The 90-minute theatre production, presented in full with no intermission, delves into the emotional journey of Julia Gillard’s life leading up to her iconic Misogyny speech on October 9, 2012. It traverses many events. From her formative years in Wales and her close bond with her father to her migration to Australia, her stint in a law firm, and her eventual political ascent. The narrative is anchored on Clarke’s capable shoulders, with the show drawing its emotive resonance from her father’s aspiration for her to be ‘fair, equal, and educated’. These words would reverberate in her psyche and political journey, for better or worse.
Musing on the Aberfan disaster and other Welsh mining accidents through the 1960s, Gillard’s call toward politics and social reform is mainly anchored through the prism of her past. It shaped her father, which in turn shaped her – this appeal to affect working to the production’s advantage. Director Sarah Goodes makes it very clear that before getting to the designated speech, audiences need to know that being told her father ‘died of shame’ by Alan Jones is a grossly insulting statement to a woman who idolised and deeply cared for her father. It gives the speech a greater weight than most people watching it on YouTube or social media.
Written by playwright Joanna Murray-Smith, the story can often steer too far onto the side of the self-congratulatory. While it is undeniable that Julia Gillard stood determined in the face of endless attacks based on her sex and overcame hypocrisy to pass 570 bills through Parliament, it is hard not to look at the overall production as an overstuffed hagiography.
It is playful and has spunk; a standout dance number performed with ribbons brings the audience gleefully into the 1980s. However, it is also sanctimonious and vague. Many argue that Gillard’s policies harmed women as much as they encouraged them—one moment has her reflect on her decision to restore offshore processing and reject a bill that legalised same-sex marriage. Solemn waves drift in the background before the show quickly moves on. Self-reflection is only allowed for a few seconds – does Julia ‘need a mirror’ too?
Jessica Bentley’s mute performance serves as a silent companion to Gillard throughout the production, a shadowy silhouette with which Clarke can interact. At times, she is a mere presence in the background; other times, she stands proudly beside or behind – symbolising the countless women who have been marginalised, silenced, and subjected to injustice by the political system. She may also represent a more private, unseen side of Julia, or even future women in her position. However, as a tokenistic symbol of voiceless, unrepresented women, the show falls short in delving into the more detrimental policies of the Gillard era – and feminism itself at that time.
A positive characteristic of Julia is its ability to harness a feminist edge that brings great sardonic humour. Clarke gives satirical anecdotes where constantly talking about sexism is ‘boring’; riffs at Kevin Rudd dying via his ego rather than a political manoeuvre, and an uncanny impersonation of Tony Abbott’s smirking grin will all inspire some laughs. Despite being called ‘deliberately barren,’ Gillard doesn’t stay silent when called into question her ability to be a leader—a lot of incendiary comments are all purely because of misogynistic stereotyping. It asks many probing questions if the same hypocrisies would apply to a man in her situation, all while having a laugh about it.
The production design combines background digital panes with a solitary block, allowing the audience to focus intimately on Clarke. It can feel close but also vast. At first, the panes look like condensation, changing depending on where Julia is. The slick stagecraft enriches the setting and mood with the associated backdrop. Sometimes, you’ll be transported to a press conference; other times, the fields she grew up on. The lighting works in tandem excellently; bright spotlights amplify and centre the masterful range and calibre Clarke is displaying on stage. The music and soundscape all add a feeling of immersion to what is essentially a one-woman show.
Toward the end, the production focuses on the Peter Slipper scandal, catalysing Gillard’s moment and calling out Tony Abbott’s sudden and hypocritical stance on misogyny. Deploying Gillard’s specific voice, hair, and fashion for political moments only, a creative decision to denote the personal and the professional, Clarke suits up, dons the blue jacket, and the first female Prime Minister delivers the entire 15-minute speech word for word. The performance is mesmerising—capturing every beat, every emphasised word, and every uncompromising look. Australia has never forgotten it.
Julia is a powerhouse performance for Justine Clarke. It is a biting and well-staged production that sometimes gets wound up in congratulating Julia Gillard’s efforts rather than exploring the more prominent themes and issues it addresses broadly. In imagining a world free of misogyny, the speech in today’s climate remains a reminder that women in Australia are still fighting to this day. Regardless of the complicated status of Gillard’s political career, anyone can say the three big words, ‘I will not’.
Buy tickets to Julia here
The reviewer attended the show on June 4.
