The exotic Lives of Lola Montez is the story of wild, dangerous and unvanquished woman in a man’s world. It is a monologue, although interwoven throughout the performance is also The Burlesque Star – both a modern representation of the essence and legacy of Lola Montez, and an avatar for Lola herself.
In 1855-56 Lola Montez toured to Australia. She died only a few years later. In the Exotic Lives of Lola Montez, Lola is still alive - called to the stage in present-day Australia by her ever-loving audience, and where she reveals the ‘truth, many many times’.
She tells her incredible history, true and false and in-between, ranging from her birth in Ireland as Eliza Gilbert; to her re-styling herself as exotic dancer and actress Lola Montez; to her multiple lovers including the King of Bavaria; to the multiple times she ‘died’; and her original and scandal-laced tour of the Victorian goldfields.
The play looks at fame, freedom for women, desire, aging, truth and lies. The play culminates in Lola’s infamous Spider Dance – a Burlesque that scandalised audiences worldwide, and brought Lola Montez much of her notoriety.

  • drama cabaret comedy
  • 70
  • 1 total
  • 1 female identifying
  • history, lgbtqia+
  • 18+
  • young adult, adult
  • Australian Script Centre


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Lola Montez

Female | 40s | 5 to 10 minutes
Starts on page 22

EXTRACT: They all have filthy beards, teeth like pickets ‘round a claim. Beards oiled and encrusted with gems. Golden hands of Midas, ready to touch. Your faces, little golden shells, your hands, little open flowers. You are my only salvation. Money is our only salvation. Money is life and what am I if I can’t live? You will find never me walking the streets, dead. Money alone can’t buy this. I never sold it for nothing. Everything I have done, I have done for love. Or money. Or for the love of money. This has never been anybody’s body but mine.

Lola Montez

Gender Unspecified | 40s | 5 to 10 minutes
Starts on page 14

EXTRACT: Marvelously, the table began to rock, gently at first, then violently, to-and-fro. I must admit, I thought our hostess was deceiving us, rocking the little table with her knees, when suddenly she rose, her eyes rolled back into her head, and she spoke in an other-worldly voice, eerily deep and masculine. “Lola, it is I, Alex.” Alex, is it really you? I turned on her – do not mock me lady, for I will kill you. But she stayed in this state. Alex, how can I be sure it is really you? Do you remember Montemarte, and the banana?

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