The Merry Widow From Bluegum Creek turns out to be an intriguing and entertaining reworking of Franz Lehar's 1905 original. The music fortunately remains but Frank Hatherley's new book and lyrics puts the story into the Australian Embassy in Paris at the time of Federation. Out comes that rich old Australian vernacular and no crow is left unstoned.

Merry widow Mrs Anna Gladstone (Louise Keast) has arrived in Paris after the death of her wool baron husband. The embassy under ambassador Sir Zacharia Wentworth (Robert Grice) is expecting a much more decrepit widow and chaos reigns when the French men lay eyes on her glamour. The Australian PM has given strict instructions that the wool baron's fortune is not to be allowed into French hands via a French marriage.

The French vie for her hand but it turns out that the most languid member of the embassy staff, Danny Macquarie (Charles Hudson) has some history with Anna. Sir Zacharia's wife Lady Valerie (Stephanie McAlister), annoyed by her patronising husband, is falling for the French charms of Vicomte Camille de Rossillon (Ken Goodge). Meanwhile, embassy translator Michelin (Matt Greenwood) attempts to keep the embassy running smoothly while trying to understand Australian English.

McAllister and Goodge have much fun with the romantic tensions of Lady Valerie's seduction by the hand kissing de Rossillon. Greenwood is a little Poirot of a Michelin, running alertly from crisis to crisis.

And director Peter Smith and Thompson Quan Wing are quite amusing as two rival upper class Frenchmen in pursuit of the widow.

Hudson is handsomely laid back as Danny and Keast makes a splendidly Australian Anna, good humoured and in fine voice. The singing of the principals more than overcame the occasional sound problem on opening night.

They are backed up by a strong company where the French and Australian accents ring pretty true as the cultural and romantic clashes accumulate, concluding in happy reconciliations all round.

It's all frothy funny comedy of manners stuff with familiar songs even if the words have changed and the famous song Vilja now seems to be about a blue gum tree and a bit of yearning for home. The moon over Paris lights up rather too abruptly but that may be an image for Australian directness.

Queanbeyan Players have come up with an enjoyable evening where cultural stereotypes are played to the hilt and the stage is awash with amorous French, straight talking Australians, the odd kangaroo, a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower, can-can dancers and a brief visit by Ned Kelly.