Oprah Brisbane review: Faithful worship at merchandise stands

Brisbane's devotees couldn't get enough of Oprah's "prayer-wishes" and T-shirts.

Oprah said unto them: "Turn up the volume in your life."

And the words were made merchandise and sold amongst us, and we beheld her glory.

For she is the way, the truth, and the "heart-print".

At least for true believers.

And at the Brisbane Entertainment Centre on Thursday night, Oprah Gail Winfrey, the little girl from Kosciusko, Mississippi, found her church, and in that full house, her devout followers.

Those who worship at the altar of OPRAH don't just cheer a tale of her conception, they stop and give thanks Vernon's sperm found its way into Vernita's egg.

"Oh, and thank goodness," one woman whispered to her friend, as OPRAH recounted the "one time" her parents "did it", largely thanks to a poodle skirt, or at least what was under it, creating – BAM – OPRAH, in the shade of an oak tree.

"Thank goodness they did."

Those who worship at the altar of OPRAH clap and cheer at words such as "heart-print", "purpose", "prayer-wish", and "universe" and run down halls – their merchandise bags filled with $85 hoodies and $65 T-shirts flapping – at the mere sound of her voice, desperate not to miss a moment more.

Not that they'll wear them – kaftans appear to be the robe of choice of OPRAH's flock, best paired with their best selves, but it's enough to know they have them, a tangible memory of their evening with OPRAH.

For OPRAH preaches the importance of being the "highest, truest expression" of one's self, and her flock, their faces showing various stages of rapture, locked towards their sequin-clad idol, can only nod in awe.

But theirs is a humble deity, for OPRAH is just like you – it must be true, because she said so – just with "better shoes".

But chances are, Christian Louboutins or not, you can't talk about that time Maya Angelou lectured you on what your legacy really was, or when Beyoncé looked to you for assurance and validation, or how you knew Barack before he was Obama, or how Stevie Wonder helped you realise that " 'No' is a complete sentence".

"OH, MY GOD," one woman gasps in response.

"IT REALLY IS.  'NO' IS A COMPLETE SENTENCE."

Someone else, a stranger, although there are no strangers in the House of OPRAH, turns and nods.

"She's amazing. Just amazing."

And if that's all it takes to make a fortune then hey, "F---" is also a complete sentence.  So is "Bullshit". 

But pointing out how single words can say it all isn't how Oprah became OPRAH, or even what elicits epiphanies from her fans.

Because nothing OPRAH says, none of the advice she gives, is new, or unique. Hell, she even relies on Newton's third law and Glinda the Good for some of it.

But when OPRAH talks about higher powers and trusting the universe to deliver, about fulfilling desires and threads of dreams, about being the master of your life and the captain of your soul, about becoming what you believe, not what you want, and dreaming the big dreams, she also tells you it's OK not to be perfect, to fail, to struggle, not to always get there. She validates dreams and desires, and delivers her sermons with the authority of one who knows her suggestions are taken as instruction.

Oprah became OPRAH because she knows not only how to talk to people, but how to talk so they'll listen.

Turning the universe into your own personal Pinterest dream board may not solve the world's problems, but for those looking for a smidgeon of hope that all of the ordinary is going to add up to the extraordinary, OPRAH also grants a wish.

Control. 

For the church of OPRAH preaches control over your thoughts, of taking the negative and turning it into a positive, of finding the little things to be grateful for in the mess of bad days, diagnoses, relationships and jobs, of taking back a measure of control when all you see is chaos.

And when she speaks of surrendering to a higher power, of being responsible for the energy you bring into a space, of living with intention and of finding your flow and following it, she makes those heart-wishes, or whatever it is she calls it, seem possible.

Those who worship at the altar of OPRAH yell things like "amen" and "yes" and "where's Stedman".

They believe in second chances and forgiveness, messages in feelings and yes, probably even tidy junk drawers.

OPRAH practitioners strive to turn failures into life lessons, live the lives they hope for and turn quotes into wall hangings.

But they're happy while they do it. OPRAH may not have lived anything resembling our lives for a long, long time.  She is not just you with better shoes. Oprah Winfrey is a religion, a figure of derision, an inspiration, a flawed human, a trail blazer, a myth, a survivor, a pretty big fan of herself and not at all apologetic about it.

But she gives her fans permission to be flawed, to hope, to stumble, to wish for something different, to succeed, to say no, to be less than perfect and still want it all, to speak and to be heard.

In the cold light of day, phrases such as "sacred principles", "heart journey" and "in the flow" sound as ridiculous as hearing a crowd of mostly middle-class white women cheer a 61-year-old woman for announcing she Facetimed with her dog.

But sitting in front of Oprah Winfrey, it sounds as sincere as a church sermon.

And in a world with bills and complex relationships and disappointments and Donald Trump, what harm does believing, even if it's just for a couple of hours, that wanting things to be better might make it so?

And Oprah said unto them, "take your glory, Brisbane and ruuuuuuunnnnnnnnnn", and they did, to merchandise stands, to phones, to cars, to share in and with, the word and sweatshirt of OPRAH, forever, and ever, amen.

Stay informed. Like the Brisbane Times Facebook page