Canberra Theatre Centre | Review by Grace Cassidy
Ensemble Theatre’s Ambitious Venture Views Queen Elizabeth’s Childhood Through a Colonial Lens
2 July 2025
In the year 2025, it’s hard to imagine there are any stories about the British royal family that are yet untold. Just two years ago, Prince Harry’s tell-all book The Spare revealed his childhood in scrupulous—almost embarrassing—detail. Thanks to that book, the world now knows (for better or for worse) that King Charles has a habit of doing headstands in his boxers and that he used to leave love notes under Harry’s pillow, containing words of encouragement he struggled to say out loud.
The modern pop culture savant could be forgiven for thinking they’ve already heard everything there is to know about this emotionally stunted family. But there’s one tale Sydney-based playwright Melanie Tait reckons you probably haven’t heard, and if you have heard it, you definitely heard the wrong side of the story.
The Queen’s Nanny—directed beautifully by Priscilla Jackman—explores the little-known life of Marion Crawford, the young Scottish woman who raised Queen Elizabeth II. Marion (Briallen Clarke) is in college when she meets Elizabeth (Sharon Millerchip), the flighty self-absorbed mother of the future queen. Elizabeth convinces young Marion to take on a six-month stint as the nanny and governess of her daughters, Princesses Elizabeth (called ‘Lilibet’ to avoid confusion) and Margaret. Marion has dreams of becoming a child psychologist and nurturing a new generation of women to become great thinkers and leaders. Sadly, this never comes to fruition. Six months in the royal household turns into 16 years, which turn into a tragic, wasted life.
This story is a deeply sad one, but told in such a way that’s frequently funny and consistently charming. The set is beautifully understated: a simple black arch, the year scrawled in chalk, an illuminated blue-toned backdrop. A dollhouse on a table represents the house in which the scenes take place, and when Marion catches a train, to the delight of the audience, a toy train chugs jauntily across a track suspended high above the actors’ heads. Throughout the story, toys are used to give a sense of place, consequently creating the impression that the whole play is happening inside a child’s nursery.
The first hour of this tight 90-minute show is, in a word, outstanding. Sharon Millerchip’s flighty, capricious Elizabeth has no business being as funny as she is, and she provides the perfect foil for Briallen Clarke’s tentative and earnest Marion. Matthew Backer delivers a captivating performance as the chameleon that ties the show together, moving seamlessly from playing a sceptical Australian journalist, to a rigid buttler, a stuttering Bertie, a sweet Lilibet, a fast-talking American and a roguish Scotsman.
The last thirty minutes of the play, set after Marion’s departure from the royal household, are where things get a bit murky. Here, it becomes increasingly hard to discern what the play is supposed to be about. On the one hand, it’s undeniably about colonisation. Over the course of her life, Marion’s gorgeous Scottish brogue is swapped for a prim English accent. She’s barred from chasing her dreams, kept from her home, and the act of raising someone else’s children ultimately prevents Marion from achieving her desire to have her own. Even her name is taken from her, with the royal family insisting that she go by the insipid nickname ‘Crawfie.’ The erosion of Marion’s identity is positioned as a clear metaphor for the impact Britain’s colonial efforts have had across the globe, and this is actually stated outright. Our narrator, the Australian journalist, literally says that Marion is ‘colonised’ and Marion’s pro-independence Scottish husband is dismayed to learn he’s in love with a royalist.
On the other hand, the play also uses its final half hour to explore Marion’s decision to write and publish a book about her experience raising the princesses – something she does as a means to free herself and her husband from the crumbling cottage Elizabeth bequeaths to Marion for her retirement. The opportunity only comes her way because Elizabeth puts her in touch with a man looking to write some articles about the princesses’ childhoods and Marion signs the book deal thinking she has Elizabeth’s permission to do so, but is subsequently ousted by the entire royal family. The final leg of the play explores the fallout of this event, while also touching on the public’s obsession with the royal family, Marion’s enduring love for Lilibet, decades after they stop talking, and the uncomfortable consequences of paying someone else to raise your child. There are too many ideas to explore with too little time to spare and by attempting to tackle all of these ideas at once, the play struggles to say something poignant about any of them.
The Queen’s Nanny is a uniquely Australian venture; it views the story of the Queen’s childhood through a blatantly colonial lens, with a ‘colonised’ protagonist and an impassioned Australian journalist acting as the narrator. It paints the British royal family as something akin to a black hole – from a distance, they are glowing, effervescent and it’s terribly easy to get caught in their orbit. But if you are unfortunate enough to get too close, they will rob you of your light, and you will never be free again.
Grace Cassidy is a writer and aspiring actress. Over the past two years, she has fallen in love with Canberra’s theatre scene by participating in theatre workshops, acting in local short films and getting involved in the Canberra Youth Theatre’s Emerging Artist programs. Grace is passionate about storytelling and has a soft spot for theatre that explores complex family relationships, ride or die friendships, and themes of hope.
