Review: How To Succeed In Business Without Really Trying (Hayes Theatre)

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Venue: Hayes Theatre Co (Potts Point NSW), Aug 28 – Sep 27, 2026
Book: Abe Burrows, Jack Weinstock, Willie Gilbert
Music and Lyrics: Frank Loesser
Director: Cameron Mitchell
Cast: Simon Burke, Kaeng Chan, Taye Grant, Katie Green, Kye Hall, Wayne Scott Kermond, Georgia Laga’aia, Lucy Lalor, Max Macdonald, Noni McCallum, Kristina McNamara, Madeline Pratt, Jake Speer, Stacey Thomsett, Zachary Webster
Images by John McRae

Theatre review
A window washer stumbles upon a manual that promises to teach any man how to game the system and ascend the corporate hierarchy without the burden of genuine effort. How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying may be well into its seventh decade, yet its dissection of capitalism (particularly its hollow mythology of merit and fairness) remains disquietingly pertinent.

What has not weathered the years, however, is its treatment of women: every female character is rendered as woefully subservient, stripped of agency, and reduced to cardboard cut-outs wholly objectified through the lens of 1950s masculinity. It is regrettable that director and choreographer Cameron Mitchell makes no discernible attempt to restore dignity to these roles; nevertheless, the tautness and precision of his staging deliver a production that is, for all its antiquated sensibilities, undeniably and irresistibly enjoyable. The vigour and momentum of the direction prove thoroughly engaging, as does the overall sheen of the presentation – an accomplishment owed in no small measure to its design team.

Dominic Foffani’s set achieves striking stylistic fidelity, offering a grand and officious vision of the era’s aspirational workplaces. Christine Mutton’s costumes delight with their judiciously balanced and vibrant palette, each garment meticulously tailored to present every performer at their most flattering. Peter Rubie’s lighting is finely attuned to the production’s comedic register, yet seizes every opportunity to conjure moments of genuine beauty whenever the score drifts into more poetic territory.

Jake Speer proves a leading man of considerable precision and detail, bringing formidable technical skill and commanding self-assurance to the role of Finch. As his romantic interest Rosemary, Georgia Laga’aia sings with exquisite beauty, and is fortunately granted several substantial musical numbers that showcase her considerable vocal gifts, even if the character herself remains stubbornly uninspiring. The ensemble is immensely likeable, and the production lingers in the memory for its many sequences in which the company’s infectious dynamism and polished cohesion testify to an admirable dedication in the rehearsal room. Kim Gilbert’s musical direction is a thorough pleasure, brimming with jaunty rhythms that sustain the audience’s delight throughout.

Much of what How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying asserts still rings true. Deceit and obfuscation remain entrenched in the structures that govern our social and economic existence; yet while the narrative exposes this reality with clarity, it appears to advocate not for resistance or reform, but for the cynical strategy of aligning oneself with those who wield power unscrupulously. More than seventy years have elapsed since Shepherd Mead’s original novel, and the corrosive effects of the corruption he described have not merely persisted—they have metastasised, inflicting ever greater harm upon the lives of ordinary people.

www.hayestheatre.com.au | www.lpdprod.com

Review: The Shark Is Broken (Foundry Theatre)

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Venue: Foundry Theatre (Pyrmont NSW), Aug 28 – Oct 11, 2026
Playwrights: Joseph Nixon, Ian Shaw
Director: Luke Joslin
Cast: Robin Goldsworthy, Anthony Gooley, Tom Stokes
Images by David Hooley

Theatre review
Protracted technical failures on the set of a Hollywood blockbuster have a curious way of forging intimacy among those marooned by circumstance. Such was the predicament in 1975 on the set of Jaws, where three principal actors found themselves with an abundance of time and a poverty of purpose. In The Shark is Broken, by Ian Shaw and Joseph Nixon, we observe these men—united by profession yet scarcely by disclosure—navigate the liminal space between collegiality and confession.

Directed by Luke Joslin, the production captures the texture of masculine camaraderie with undeniable authenticity; the performers bristle, bond, and deflect with the choreography of men who have learned that proximity need not entail revelation. Yet the play remains curiously surface-bound: its characters traffic in the signifiers of vulnerability without ever submitting to its discomfort. One admires the execution while wondering for whom, precisely, this exercise in emotional restraint is intended.

The cast is uniformly superb. Robin Goldsworthy brings an irrepressible, mercurial energy to Richard Dreyfuss, his vivacity keeping the proceedings buoyant even as the narrative threatens to list. Anthony Gooley imbues Robert Shaw with a brooding, caustic grandeur—convincingly sodden one moment, debonair the next, capturing the paradox of the ruined aesthete. Tom Stokes is a dead ringer for Roy Scheider, his impeccable timing lending the storytelling an organic, unforced rhythm.

The design elements are equally accomplished. James Browne’s set, augmented by Cameron Smith’s video projections, achieves a striking majesty while never permitting us to forget that these men are, both literally and figuratively, at sea. Jasmine Rizk’s lighting and Sean Peter’s sound design offer subtle but essential flourishes, conjuring theatricality from an environment that is simultaneously artificial and elemental.

The central irony of the piece—and perhaps its most trenchant observation—is that these men had no faith their film would become anything more than a troubled production. They did not relish their position; they did not apprehend the extraordinary privilege of their circumstance. Instead, they nursed petty grievances and private miseries, too consumed by their own discontent to recognize the historical moment unfolding around them. The play seems to ask whether lasting legacies are forged through conscious intention or merely accrue, unbidden, to those too preoccupied to notice. It is a sobering meditation on the cost of myopia—though one wishes the work itself were less reluctant to look beneath the surface it so reticently surveys.

www.sharkisbroken.com.au

Review: Heathers (Roslyn Packer Theatre)

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Venue: Roslyn Packer Theatre (Sydney NSW), Sep 1 – 19, 2026
Book, Music & Lyrics: Kevin Murphy, Laurence O’Keefe (based on the film written by Daniel Waters)
Director: Andy Fickman
Cast: Conor Beaumont, Emma Caporaso, David Cuny, Zoe Gertz, Calista Nelmes, Mel O’Brien, Abigail Sharp, Amélia Rojas, Nic Van Lits
Images by Cameron Grant

Theatre review
Veronica’s alliance with the school bullies proceeds from that timeworn logic: if you cannot defeat them, join them. Heathers, drawn from the 1988 cult film, is a satire of social Darwinism in which human decency has become a forgotten currency. To navigate the minefield of high school, its teenagers abandon morality entirely, embracing instead the brutal metrics of popularity and hierarchy—a dynamic that now reads as an early parable of neoliberal self-interest.

Andy Fickman’s direction is exuberantly playful, rich with a camp sensibility that proves genuinely delightful. Yet the dramatic tension never fully tightens; despite visibly escalating stakes, the production struggles to secure our emotional investment as the narrative unfolds.

The score is broadly enjoyable, though sound engineering too often lacks vibrancy—a noticeable shortcoming. The production, however, boasts considerable compensations. Gary Lloyd’s choreography is consistently crisp and wittily executed, while Ben Cracknell’s lighting design is inventive and relentlessly dynamic.

Leading the cast, Emma Caporaso proves highly impressive, commanding attention through both vocal precision and sharp comic timing. Her innate likeability as Veronica becomes crucial: she sustains our engagement with the narrative’s moral weight even as the production’s energy flags, particularly in its latter half.

Conor Beaumont’s J.D., by contrast, leans too far toward innocence, lacking the cunning and menace the role requires to cohere as a genuine threat. A deficit of charisma compounds the problem. Calista Nelmes delivers plenty of swagger as the head Heather, though she never quite convinces as an actual teenager. Particularly noteworthy are Nic Van Lits and David Cuny as the obnoxious jocks Kurt and Ram; their comic synchronisation is faultless, and their every appearance injects welcome energy into the proceedings.

Heathers ultimately delivers a dark lesson: we live in an era where defeating our enemies may require becoming what we most despise. Moral clarity would insist on doing only what is right; yet the musical suggests that some battles can only be won by speaking the language of power and brutality—the only dialect, it seems, that our adversaries understand.

www.heathersthemusical.com

Review: Equus (KXT on Broadway)

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Venue: KXT on Broadway (Ultimo NSW), Aug 21 – Sep 5, 2026
Playwright: Peter Shaffer
Director: Brockman
Cast: Cloud Fernandez-Montoya, Sophie Gregg, Stephen Madsen, Jay-James Moody, Gus Murray, Linda Nicholls-Gidley, Shalamah Tautaiolefue, Ryan Yeates
Images by Daniel Boud

Theatre review
It was in 1973 that Peter Shaffer wrote Equus, the story of 17-year-old Alan Strang, a boy who blinds six horses with a metal spike. At its heart, Equus is a play about desire: where it comes from, how it is shaped, and the destruction that can follow when it is denied. As a gay man born in the early twentieth century, Shaffer was almost certainly drawing, at least in part, on the devastating consequences of harbouring desires deemed socially taboo.

More than half a century later, director Brockman brings the play’s submerged queerness unmistakably to the surface. Where Shaffer had to veil the politics of Equus beneath explorations of religion, psychotherapy and obsession, Brockman’s contemporary interpretation points directly to the machinery of social stigmatisation and the wounds of marginalisation.

The production is as pointed in its message as it is atmospheric in its rendering. Brockman, who also serves as set and lighting designer, uses light to construct a performance space that recalls the stable where the unspeakable occurred, illuminating the action in ways that evoke desire and its eternal companion, brutality. The fluid movement between warm and cold tones mirrors the play’s shifting moral landscape, inviting us to question ideas of sin and transgression when set against the force of human instinct.

Dr Emily Brayshaw’s costumes remain in harmony with the production’s dark visual palette, while introducing subtle variations in colour and texture that keep the stage picture richly alive. Milo Mclaughlin’s sound design establishes a sombre timbre befitting the material’s gravity, though the persistence of his repetitious drone occasionally dulls the audience’s engagement.

Ryan Yeates delivers an admirably naturalistic Alan, bringing a vulnerability that makes the character feel both psychologically complex and undeniably real. He is simultaneously victim and perpetrator, embodying a story that first emerged at the dawn of the gay rights movement in Britain. Opposite him, J. James-Moody gives an extraordinary performance as Dr Dysart. He navigates Shaffer’s dense, philosophical dialogue with remarkable precision, revealing its intricate emotional and intellectual textures without sacrificing clarity. Beyond the cerebral pleasures of his performance, James-Moody is also devastatingly visceral, particularly in moments of profound self-loathing and emotional torment—qualities that become the defining concerns of Equus in 2026.

Equally remarkable is Shalamah Tautaiolefue, who inhabits the various horses throughout the play. Rather than simply anthropomorphising the animals, Tautaiolefue expands the production’s interrogation of taboo to encompass questions of gender, race and body size. Working with movement director Jeremy Lloyd, they create an entirely non-verbal performance of astonishing imagination and beauty, one that remains captivating from the opening moments to the final scene.

Alan has been taught to hate, perhaps unconsciously, but certainly within an Abrahamic tradition that leaves no ambiguity about who and what deserves contempt, and that habitually justifies violence as a form of atonement. His desires curdle into hatred for himself and for the horses; lacking any means to reject or subvert his indoctrination, he follows the only logic available to him, and strikes out at the thing he loves most, in a tragedy about the catastrophic consequences of teaching someone that love itself is sinful.

www.kingsxtheatre.com | www.danielcottier.com.au

Review: The Book Of Everything (Belvoir St Theatre)

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Venue: Belvoir St Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), Aug 22 – Sep 20, 2026
Playwright: Richard Tulloch (from the novel by Guus Kuijer)
Director: Neil Armfield
Cast: Julie Forsyth, John Gaden, Claire Jones, John Leary, Rebecca Massey, Bridie McKim, Pamela Rabe, Matthew Whittet
Images by Brett Boardman

Theatre review
Nine-year-old Thomas lives in the shadow of a tyrannical father whose religious fanaticism manifests as routine violence against his wife and children. Next door lives a witch who appears to stand in direct opposition to everything the Christian church represents, yet she is the one who offers Thomas the greatest comfort and inspiration. Guus Kuijer’s The Book of Everything is a story with a profound moral centre, and Richard Tulloch’s stage adaptation captures that depth while remaining irresistibly joyful, funny and ultimately uplifting.

Neil Armfield’s direction brims with effervescence. Whether the production is boisterous or intimate, it is consistently moving, finding genuine emotional truth without ever tipping into sentimentality. The Book of Everything is about childhood innocence, but its reflections on growing up feel timeless rather than saccharine.

Much of that success rests on Matthew Whittet’s extraordinary performance as Thomas. He plays the boy with boundless energy and infectious delight, yet every burst of exuberance feels completely sincere. His portrayal is so emotionally open that we become wholly invested in Thomas and instinctively share both his fears and his hopes.

Julie Forsyth is equally captivating as Mrs Van Amersfoort. She brings effortless charisma and warmth to the role, making it easy to understand why Thomas is drawn to her. The tenderness of their evolving friendship becomes the emotional heart of the production.

Throughout, live music by Jack Ward underscores the action with remarkable sensitivity. He calibrates every shift in tone with surgical precision, guiding the audience seamlessly from moments of gravity and introspection to scenes of childlike playfulness. His score gives the production a magical sheen that invites younger audiences into Thomas’s imagination while reminding older ones how to reconnect with their own sense of wonder.

Kim Carpenter’s set design is built around the seemingly simple concept of an oversized book unfolding into each new scene. What could have felt obvious instead becomes wonderfully effective, framing the story within a world of innocence and possibility. Against that backdrop, the narrative’s darkest ideas about faith and fanaticism become even more confronting. Nigel Levings’ lighting is not especially showy, but it is meticulously judged, creating atmosphere with precision and maintaining beautiful visual balance throughout.

The Book of Everything ends on a note of hope, though Thomas’s future remains unwritten. Having witnessed the damage wrought by his brutal father, one might easily imagine him repeating that cycle of harm. Yet we have also seen the redemptive influence of Mrs Van Amersfoort, and the possibility that Thomas might forge a better path. More crucially, perhaps, the play reminds us that becoming one’s own person means the freedom to choose at every turn—and that the courage to choose wisely is the truest measure of character.

www.belvoir.com.au

Review: Harlots (Old Fitz Theatre)

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Venue: Old Fitzroy Theatre (Woolloomooloo NSW), Aug 21 – Sep 6, 2026
Playwright: Emma Wright
Director: Janine Watson
Cast: ‘Ana Ika, Ella Prince, Hannah Waterman, Jo Downing, Madeline Li, Megan O’Connell
Images by Phil Erbacher

Theatre review
In Emma Wright’s Harlots, we are plunged into a subterranean world where the enigma of Hermione and Paulina’s sixteen-year vanishing—one of Shakespeare’s most tantalising narrative ellipses in The Winter’s Tale—finds its resolution. Within this liminal realm, we discover that Shakespeare’s other silenced women, too, have withdrawn into convalescence. Liberated from the patriarchal architectures that muted and effaced them, they pursue not merely restoration but a radical reimagining of their lives, forging identities unscripted by the tragedies that once defined them.

Wright adroitly interweaves characters from four discrete Shakespearean dramas, though the execution is not without its lapses: certain scenes fail to compel, and stretches of dialogue, deliberately opaque, risk estranging the audience rather than drawing it inward.

Janine Watson’s direction grounds the production in an emotional realism that renders the characters’ psychological reckonings viscerally immediate, even when their interpersonal dynamics do not consistently captivate. Kate Beere’s set design conjures a space simultaneously fantastical and authentically rustic, while Aloma Barnes Siraswar’s costumes strike a romantic register, evoking the iconography of Shakespeare’s tragic heroines through a lens of reclaimed feminine beauty. Luna Ng’s lighting achieves a wistful ethereality, and Clare Hennessy’s sound design suffuses the production with an unrelenting gravitas befitting the conceptual weight at stake.

The ensemble of six delivers performances of uniform excellence, each actor imprinting a distinct interpretive signature upon their role while sustaining a coherent presentational aesthetic. Madeline Li’s concluding monologue as Hero proves especially indelible—an outpouring of such raw authenticity and commanding power that it carries the production to its resounding climax.

The interrogation of gender, of course, extends far beyond engagements with Shakespeare and the classical canon. Patriarchal values permeate the very fabric of artistic production, naturalising conventions so thoroughly that they appear immutable, beyond scrutiny—yet it is precisely here that they must be dismantled and reconstituted toward more equitable ends. Patriarchy demands that theatre, like so much else, conform to particular aesthetic and affective regimes, thereby perpetuating its own dominance. And much of this occurs covertly: power achieves its greatest efficacy when it operates unseen, its mechanisms rendered invisible and its strictures undetectable.

www.oldfitztheatre.com.au | www.newghoststheatre.com

Review: The Boys Are Kissing (Qtopia)

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Venue: Qtopia (Darlinghurst NSW), Aug 12 – 29, 2026
Playwright: Zak Zarafshan
Director: Gavin Roach
Cast: Aisling Delahunt, Max Fernandez, Sonya Kerr, Willa King, John Michael Narres, Shab Tavakol
Images by Robert Catto

Theatre review
Amira and Chloe have fled London in search of breathing room, trading cramped city living for a house with a garden where their nine-year-old might roam. The trade-off, as they discover, is steep: the regional school gates prove far less hospitable than the cosmopolitan playgrounds they left behind. As an interracial lesbian couple, they increasingly find themselves at odds with other parents, a tension that Zak Zarafshan mines to brilliant effect in The Boys are Kissing, conjuring moments that veer from the absurdly comic to the quietly devastating. It is a play that feels genuinely of the post-marriage-equality moment: intellectually grounded without being preachy, its moral architecture sturdy enough to propel the narrative yet never so heavy that it drags the storytelling under.

Director Gavin Roach approaches the material with an admirable vigour, infusing the production with an urgency that reminds us queer rights remain a fight rather than a fait accompli. Yet the execution never quite matches the intention, with the production itself lacking the crispness necessary to draw us fully into the story. The cast often appears under-rehearsed, and while there are moments of genuine theatrical delight, their connections to both character and narrative lack sufficient depth. This diminishes not only the gravity of the material, but also the sense of joy and possibility that ultimately lies at its heart.

Raphael Gennusa’s lighting design brings welcome variation and texture to the atmosphere, although some scenes requiring more substantial shifts in location are not transformed quite convincingly enough. Akesiu Poitaha, meanwhile, deserves commendation for an extensive sound design that effectively transports the action beyond the mundane into spaces that feel altogether more evocative.

As queer people, we have long carried the responsibility of making life more bearable for generations of queer people yet to come. Now that it is increasingly common for us to have biological children of our own, the question of what we leave behind—and the kind of world our children will inherit—feels more consequential than ever. Yet the method by which we pursue that legacy need not change dramatically. We need only hold fast to the same principle that has always served us: the simple, unwavering demand for equality.

www.qtopiasydney.com.au | www.instagram.com/a_hello_darling_production

Review: Imelda (KXT on Broadway)

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Venue: KXT on Broadway (Ultimo NSW), Jul 31 – Aug 15, 2026
Playwright: Donita Cruz
Director: Aden Abeleda
Cast: Alex Gonzalez, Tamara Lee Bailey, Ahlex Leyva, Teresa Tate Britten
Images by Andrea Magpulong

Theatre review
Maria Clara has lost her mother, yet the spectral visitations that haunt her remain tantalisingly ambiguous—are they truly her mother’s spirit, or the surreal presence of Imelda Marcos? For this Filipina-Australian woman, the relationship with her homeland is fractured and uneasy, much like the complicated affection many Filipinos still hold for the Marcos dynasty. Donita Cruz’s Imelda offers thoughtful insights into the diaspora experience alongside fascinating reflections on the Philippines’ recent history. Yet the work would be strengthened by a more deliberate establishment of its premise and a richer introduction to its characters. Director Aden Abeleda might also deepen the audience’s connection to the material by devoting greater care to context and conceit.

Teresa Tate Britten proves highly watchable as the actor at the centre; her tremendous focus is captivating in itself, even when the text stays too resolutely in the ephemeral. Alex Gonzalez, playing Maria Clara, struggles to fully inhabit the emotional terrain the role demands, never quite achieving the conviction required. Supporting players Tamara Lee Bailey and Ahlex Leyva, however, bring welcome textural and tonal variety to the piece. Both are memorable for grounding the atmosphere with considerable gravity, lending weight to a story that resonates deeply with many.

Rachel Adams’s set design shows little ambition, though EJ Zielinski’s lighting compensates somewhat, rendering supernatural spaces with a welcome theatricality. Video projections by Alyssa Dimarucut and Donita Cruz add memorable touches, their cultural specificity enriching the experience in ways the physical production does not.

Myth-making is, after all, a fundamental human impulse. We are creatures who must find ways to comprehend a world that remains endlessly mysterious; the not-knowing can feel agonising, even anxiety-inducing. To forge personal and communal identities—however provisional, however fluid—is itself a kind of necessity. And to move through life with direction, with hope for what lies ahead, requires that we craft the best possible version of volatile narratives, if only to carry us through the fleeting present.

www.kingsxtheatre.com | www.instagram.com/sapatosangelscollective

Review: Top Silk (Ensemble Theatre)

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Venue: Ensemble Theatre (Kirribilli NSW), Jul 31 – Sep 12, 2026
Playwright: David Williamson
Director: Mark Kilmurry
Cast: Nicholas Brown, Thomas Campbell, Laurence Coy, Rachel Gordon, Samir Nasser, Jamie Oxenbould, Jeremy Waters
Images by Prudence Upton

Theatre review
Jane and Trevor have done very well for themselves as lawyers, yet there comes a moment in every ascent to power when the individual is forced to confront a dilemma that strikes at the very core of their humanity. David Williamson’s 1989 play Top Silk examines the difficult choices people make when ambition collides with conscience, and the personal cost of success when the stakes are impossibly high.

The text itself has not aged with particular grace; its dialogue can feel stilted, its rhythms occasionally dated. Yet director Mark Kilmurry infuses the production with sufficient dramatic tension that the script’s awkwardness recedes, allowing us to focus instead on how these characters navigate their precarious circumstances. The dilemmas they face—compromises between professional duty and moral instinct—still resonate, and Kilmurry ensures they land with genuine force.

Much of the production’s success rests on an excellent ensemble, led by two commanding performances. Rachel Gordon’s Jane is rendered with fierce conviction; she makes her character’s desire to do what she believes is right utterly persuasive, even as she allows us to see the professional integrity being quietly eroded. Nicholas Brown, as Trevor, achieves something equally difficult: he makes each ethical compromise appear not merely reasonable but almost inevitable, and does so without letting his character’s immense privilege obscure his underlying humanity. Together, they generate a compelling chemistry that gives the drama its crackle and the humour its surprising bite.

The design elements serve the production with similar intelligence. Ailsa Paterson’s set accommodates the play’s shifting locations with resourceful economy while still conferring upon the courtroom scenes their requisite sense of grandeur. Kelsey Lee’s lighting navigates a wide spectrum of atmospheric intensity with precision, and Madeleine Picard’s sound design seizes unexpected moments to introduce flourish and theatrical texture.

Society likes to pretend that right and wrong are clearly demarcated, but Top Silk understands that life rarely offers such tidy distinctions. When one is caught in the grey—where there are no convenient blacks and whites—it is not simply a question of what is correct, but of what one is willing to risk. The play asks how much an individual is prepared to sacrifice for the courage to go against the grain, and in this production, that question feels as relevant as ever.

www.ensemble.com.au

Review: Fiddler On The Roof (Theatre Royal)

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Venue: Theatre Royal (Sydney NSW), Jul 31 – Oct 3, 2026
Book: Joseph Stein
Music: Jerry Bock
Lyrics: Sheldon Harnick
Director: Jordan Fein
Cast: Ben Adler, Freya Boltman, Ellen Ebbs, Alexis Fishman, Caity Plummer, Maxwell Simon, Felix Star, Jacob Steen, Troy Sussman, Sigrid Thornton, John Waters
Images by Daniel Boud

Theatre review
Tevye’s daughters remain preoccupied with romance and matrimonial prospects even as the spectre of banishment looms over their community—a tension that, viewed today, unmistakably marks Fiddler on the Roof as a work firmly anchored in its era. The Broadway original debuted in 1964, and while its treatment of religious persecution retains its urgency, significant portions of the narrative have aged less gracefully.

Jordan Fein’s direction honours the text and its underlying concerns, yet there is a sharp contemporary sensibility in the handling of humour that prevents the production from feeling like a museum piece. If the storytelling falters by modern standards, Jerry Bock’s score remains imperishable; under Mark Aspinall’s musical supervision, it emerges as the production’s crowning achievement.

Tom Scott’s design is equally distinguished—the set is refined in its restraint, never appearing insufficient, while the costumes evoke the turn of the century with period fidelity, they nevertheless remain visually striking to the modern eye. Lighting by Aideen Malone offers a sumptuous visual palette, though it occasionally falls short of the vibrancy required to fully animate it.

The ensemble performs with formidable conviction, its members capitalising on moments to distinguish themselves, crafting supporting roles that feel lived-in and genuinely charming. Troy Sussman delivers a competent Tevye, though he lacks the magnetism necessary to fully command our emotional allegiance to the main character’s journey.

In light of the ongoing atrocities emerging from the genocide in Gaza, one might be tempted at the end of the musical, to reach for the familiar axiom that “hurt people hurt people”. Yet it is worth recalling that many who have suffered devote themselves precisely to breaking that cycle. Historical tragedy and inherited trauma may illuminate the roots of human cruelty, but understanding is not absolution; comprehension must never be conflated with permission. The enduring imperative of stories like Fiddler on the Roof is resistance—without exception, and regardless of who holds power.

www.fiddlerontherooftour.com