More than 1000km from a capital city, I found one of Australia’s best cultural experiences

“Opera can happen anywhere at any time. As long as we have a musician, a singer and an audience, we can do it.”

That belief, expressed by Patrick Nolan, the CEO and artistic director of Opera Queensland (OQ), is at the core of the Festival of Outback Opera. You can strip away all the glitzy trappings, he’s saying, but the power of opera will be undiminished. Relocate that core to a magical landscape deep in rural Queensland and you have a unique and unforgettable cultural experience.

The festival, now in its sixth year and known affectionately as FOO, is also a masterclass in what can be achieved when a community and an artistic organisation come together in true harmony. Running over seven days, FOO presents a diverse program of events in and around Winton and Longreach. And I mean diverse.

During my first 28 hours in Winton, I attend the following: the opening night concert in the fabulous Royal Open-Air Theatre; an early morning excursion with Red Dirt Tours spotting the array of birdlife in the region, with University of Queensland music students belting out arias while we enjoy a cuppa and scones; music trivia in the historic North Gregory Hotel courtyard; and a tongue-in-cheek singalong concert of opera hits held in the Dustarena, home to outback comedy cabaret act the Crackup Sisters.

It goes on like this for the whole week, with a children’s opera, concerts at the Qantas Founders Museum and Australian Stockman’s Hall of Fame, both in Longreach, a ball and various pop-up performances around town. But the highlights are two outdoor concerts – Dark Sky Serenade at the Australian Age of Dinosaurs Museum, perched atop a mesa near Winton, and Singing in the Night at Camden Park Station, just outside Longreach.

On these stages, set against boundless skies and vast stretches of desert, the music is reshaped by the landscape, creating a visceral connection that is both dramatic and moving. Watching this year’s headliner, rising tenor Filipe Manu, sing against a blood-red sky bruised with sheets of gold and purple is truly memorable.

One evening I find myself in a pub standing next to coloratura soprano Katie Stenzel, who has just wowed us in performance and is now with her family.

Conductor and musical director Richard Mills wrangles five soloists, the Camerata chamber orchestra and a choir with masterful dexterity and his program is a well-judged mix of the familiar, new work and some meatier fare to satisfy the buffs. Mills’ introductions to each piece draw the audience into the material, something not always achieved with recitals. All the performers are excellent, but it is young mezzo-soprano Aylish Ryan who steals the stage in every appearance she makes.

None of this would work without community participation. Both towns cater expertly for tourists, welcoming more than 3000 visitors over the festival week. Perhaps most importantly, opera has been embraced by locals, who account for a quarter of ticket sales.

Artists are out and about, too, engaging with attendees and taking in the sights. One evening I find myself in a pub standing next to coloratura soprano Katie Stenzel, who has just wowed us in performance and is now with her family, patiently organising a meal for her small son while her 10-week-old baby snuggles into the folds of her evening gown.

The relationship between the towns and the opera company is close and trusting. “OQ is totally engaged in the process,” says the Crackup Sisters’ Amanda-Lyn Pearson, “right down to regularly updating local businesses on the number of attendees so they can get in the right amounts of food and supplies.”

Between opera events I take a dinner cruise on the Thomson River, ride a vintage train to Darr River and visit the very fine Waltzing Matilda Centre (Banjo Paterson penned the words of the famous song in Winton). Green lawns and colourful flowerbeds line Winton’s main street, and it’s pleasant to while away an hour at a cafe table or in front of Tattersalls Hotel chatting with passers-by. In a backstreet, I find the remains of Willie Mar’s market garden and shop, preserved by the community in affectionate memory of the Chinese migrant who found genuine belonging in this outback place.

The first time I see OQ baritone Jason Barry-Smith, he’s hosting the opening night program at Winton’s Royal Theatre. When I last see him, seven days later, he’s standing in the back of a ute at 6.30am, belting out the Toreador Song from Carmen while 1400 head of cattle rip through a gate behind him. After all the grand spectacle it’s this little event, the launch of an annual charity cattle drive, that exemplifies the connection between opera and the outback. They’re both about myth and legend. They both involve sweat and hard work. They both tell a story.

Sitting in the afternoon sun on the mesa, gazing out over the desert below, Filipe Manu tells me he is awed by this landscape. “Everyone in Sydney needs to come to the outback at least once,” he says. He’s right. And what better way to do it than this.

The writer was a guest of Outback Queensland Tourism Association.

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