“The Great Emu War”, Goodspeed Musicals

Robert Schneider in Chester, Connecticut
4 November 2025
★★★☆☆

It’s not every day that you get to see a musical about avian pest eradication, so when Goodspeed announced The Great Emu War I leapt at the opportunity. Still in development, the production at the Goodspeed’s smaller space in Chester is a chance for this Australian import to take wing before an American audience.

Jeremy Davis and Claire Saunders.
Photo credit: Diane Sobolewski.

Can something “take wing” if it doesn’t actually fly? We learn a great deal about emus in the show; the large, quick, voracious and quick breeding bird was a major nuisance to farmers in Western Australia in the early 1930s. They don’t fly, but in The Great Emu War, they sing, dance a bit and make loud, booming noises when they flirt with other emus. We also learn that they have two sets of eyelids and ingest small stones that they keep in their gizzards. As a disquisition on ornithology, this show needs bow to no one.

There is also some honest history here: the Australian government really did send soldiers to shoot the thousands of emus that destroyed farmers’ crops in 1932. To call it “the great emu war,” as Australians do, is hyperbolic. Only three soldiers and two machine guns were sent. When fired upon, the flocks broke into small groups and ran away very quickly. Aside from several vulnerable spots in their anatomy, the birds proved very nearly bulletproof. About 1,000 were killed for the expenditure of 10,000 rounds of ammunition. The army ceased hostilities in a matter of days. It’s generally conceded that the birds won.

So the musical does not play around with the facts. Instead, it tries to take the emus’ point of view. Edith Emu (Claire Saunders) is a rebellious chick of 18 months. She won’t listen to her father, Enoch Emu (Jeremy Davis), when he warns her not to migrate by herself. Enoch Emu (Ethan Peterson) is fellow fledgling who develops into Edith’s love interest.

On the human side, we meet Major Meredith of the Royal Australian Artillery (Taylor Matthew) who confesses that he hates birds and is determined that this campaign will not end like the disastrous Allied assault on Gallipoli in the First World War. Ornithological and historical information is dispensed by a character called “Bush Bard” (LaRaisha DiEvelyn Dionne) who also narrates. Book writers Cal Silberstein and Paul Hodge use Bush Bard to explain everything that an American audience might not understand about Australia, which quickly becomes patronizing. We understand that Australia is a different country and a different continent. We get it, cobber.

Paul Hodge also wrote the music and lyrics, which tend to be chipper and relentlessly up tempo. There is only one ballad, “Fly Solo.”  The score could use moments of softness and introspection. With additional musicians and less amplification, the songs would be more varied and, I think, more appealing. They prove serviceable as they are, but the cast punches everything. Their energy is exhausting; the show needs smaller performances or a bigger theatre. For the modest 200-seat house at the Norma Terris, I shouldn’t think any amplification at all is required. Better diction from the cast (Mr. Matthew excepted) would also help.

The lyrics and book are replete with predictable rhymes (“wheat” and “eat”) and avian puns (“I just want to lend a wing”) which are sometimes repeated.

The emus (with cute costume pieces by Herin Kaputkin) are clearly birdbrains, which is utterly defensible. The human characters, however, are plain stupid, which is not. Unlike any soldier I’ve ever heard of, they rest the muzzles of their weapons on the ground and use them like walking sticks. While it may seem churlish to complain about the absence of realism in an emusical about talking birds, this irritated me. The prop Lewis guns had the profile of the real thing, if not the heft—why not pretend they’re real?

The authors did solid research into a failed military operation in support of desperate farmers in a drought. Just because the mismatch between birds and soldiers seems absurd doesn’t mean its enactment on stage can be lackadaisical. Surely there was something about the Great Emu War that bears thinking about? Something that a second ballad might hatch? No attempt at inter-species communication is attempted, although musicals have certainly seen stranger things. Perhaps in a dream sequence or a shared song?

The direction and choreography are by Amy Anders Corcoran. At this stage of development there is very little scenery. In a fuller production, this, too, would be rectified.