When Tina – The Tina Turner Musical opened at the Detroit Opera House, no one expected what happened next: tears from longtime fans, standing ovations from strangers, and a performance so raw it left audience members speechless—was it just a tribute, or something closer to a resurrection? What secrets from Tina’s life were brought to the surface? Why did the cast break character during one emotional moment? And how did this particular show end with people shouting her name through the streets of Detroit long after the curtain fell? click the link to read more.

BLAC Review: Tina – The Tina Turner Musical at The Detroit Opera House

It wasn’t just a musical. It was a riot of emotion. An echo of a life that refused to go quietly. On a warm July night in 2025, Tina – The Tina Turner Musical arrived at the Detroit Opera House—and for two hours, Detroit trembled with applause, memories, and the unmistakable thrum of Tina Turner’s legacy surging back to life.

The show, which has toured internationally since its 2018 London premiere, is a dramatized retelling of Turner’s life—from her beginnings as Anna Mae Bullock in Nutbush, Tennessee, through her turbulent relationship with Ike Turner, to her explosive solo rebirth in the 1980s. It’s not a jukebox musical in the shallow sense. It’s theater shaped by trauma, perseverance, and triumph. And in Detroit—a city that knows something about struggle and reinvention—it landed like thunder.

From the opening moments, the audience was drawn in not by spectacle but by intimacy. The young Anna Mae, portrayed with fierce innocence by the child actor rotating the role, opened with a spiritual sung so raw it silenced even the noisiest balcony seats. That spiritual bled seamlessly into “Nutbush City Limits,” an early crowd-pleaser that nonetheless hinted at the complexity ahead.

The actress playing adult Tina—a powerhouse whose performance deserves to be remembered alongside Adrienne Warren’s original West End portrayal—commanded the stage with breathtaking stamina. Not only did she sing Turner’s most iconic songs—“River Deep – Mountain High,” “Proud Mary,” “Private Dancer,” “What’s Love Got to Do with It”—but she embodied the artist’s evolution: from battered wife to global icon.

The show does not shy away from pain. Ike Turner, played with disturbing charm by the lead actor, is not cartoonishly villainous—but that only makes the domestic violence, gaslighting, and manipulation more chilling. The scenes of emotional and physical abuse are staged with brutal honesty, provoking gasps and tears from many in the audience.

But the pain is never the end of the story. One of the night’s most poignant moments came during the quiet, aching rendition of “I Don’t Wanna Fight.” With just a spotlight and silence around her, Tina stands alone on stage, not as a victim but as a woman ready to claim her life back. That moment, reportedly added as a creative revision during the 2025 leg of the tour, brought a hush over the theater so deep that even the orchestra pit held its breath.

Then came the transformation.

The second act opens with the now-legendary image of Tina, post-divorce, broke and overlooked by the industry, trying to rebuild from scratch. It is here that the audience begins to see not just a comeback, but a resurrection. She performs in dingy hotels, faces cruel rejections, and still keeps singing. In one emotionally loaded scene, she sings “Better Be Good to Me” with trembling fury—no longer to Ike, but to the world.

By the time “The Best” arrives, near the finale, the room is no longer a theater—it is a rally. Audience members stand without being told. People are crying, singing along, reaching toward the stage as if reaching for Tina herself. Some had brought roses. Others brought old vinyl records to hold up, waving them like talismans.

The cast, too, seemed swept up in something bigger than performance. At the curtain call, the actress playing Tina had tears running down her face. When the crowd chanted “Tina! Tina!” long after the lights had come back on, she stepped out again, broke character, and said softly, “She’s still with us.” That line was met with thunderous applause.

Outside the opera house, after the final show of the night, something unusual happened. Dozens of people lingered in the plaza, singing “Proud Mary” together. A local gospel choir, who had attended in a group, spontaneously broke into harmony. Strangers hugged. One man on crutches shouted, “She helped me survive the ‘80s!” And in the middle of all this, a little girl in a glittery denim jacket danced barefoot, spinning with the kind of abandon that Tina Turner always inspired.

There were critics in attendance. They didn’t leave with notebooks out. They left stunned.

From a technical standpoint, the production is as polished as ever. Lighting shifts moods with precision. Costume changes happen in seconds, transforming Tina from teenager to legend in the blink of an eye. The choreography, especially in the second act’s live-concert recreations, mimics Turner’s signature movement: raw, explosive, almost supernatural in intensity.

But the reason Tina – The Tina Turner Musical matters in 2025 is not just because of its quality. It matters because Tina Turner’s story still feels urgent. Her pain still resonates. Her strength still feels needed.

Detroit, with its long history of artistic greatness rising from hardship, was the perfect city for this show to unfold. The echoes of Motown, of soul and struggle, were already in the air. And when Tina’s story filled the space, it didn’t feel like a biography—it felt like homecoming.

After all, Tina Turner was more than a singer. She was a survivor who turned her life into sound. And when her story is told well—as it is here—you don’t just hear the songs. You feel the scars that shaped them.

This wasn’t just a musical.

It was Tina, still burning.