Venue: Roslyn Packer Theatre (Sydney NSW), Mar 21 – May 3, 2026
Book: Sheridan Harbridge, Dean Bryant (from the Miles Franklin novel)
Music: Mathew Frank
Lyrics: Dean Bryant
Director: Anne-Louise Sarks
Cast: Cameron Bajraktarevic-Hayward, Melanie Bird, Lincoln Elliott, Victoria Falconer, Kala Gare, Raj Labade, Drew Livingston, Ana Mitsikas, Christina O’Neill, Jarrad Payne, Jack Green, and Meg McKibbin.
Images by Pia Johnson
Theatre review
First published in 1901, when Miles Franklin was merely twenty-one, this seminal novel chronicles a teenage protagonist’s fierce determination to transcend restrictive gender conventions and forge an autonomous existence within the artistic sphere. Now, *My Brilliant Career*—that cornerstone of the Australian literary canon—has been reimagined as a stage musical by the formidable trio of Dean Bryant and Sheridan Harbridge, who craft the words, and composer Mathew Frank. Together, they amplify the original’s spirited verve to revelatory effect, delivering a production as profoundly moving as it is inspiring.
Under Anne-Louise Sarks’s astute direction and Amy Campbell’s sensitive choreography, the production arrives with startling immediacy, rendering its feminist discourse with the electrifying urgency of a revelation only just unveiled. Sybylla Melvyn, that indomitable protagonist, captivates utterly; every element of the staging conspires to forge an unbreakable empathic bond, compelling our complete investment in her trajectory.
Kala Gare delivers a thoroughly virtuosic performance in the central role, commanding the stage with breath-taking intensity to create an indelible theatrical experience. Remarkably, Gare and the supporting ensemble assume the dual responsibility of dramatic interpretation whilst simultaneously constituting the instrumental foundation of the entire musical landscape—a demonstration of extraordinary artistic versatility. Under Victoria Falconer’s expert musical direction, each composition emerges as a triumph of exuberance, sustaining a level of entertainment that never once falters.
Set and costumes by Marg Howell evoke the visual vernacular of the late nineteenth century, yet—like every other element of the production—deploy considerable artistic license to ensure the work feels distinctly contemporary. Eschewing any slavish fidelity to historical accuracy that might risk feeling dowdy or remote, preventing the work from collapsing into the fusty dreariness of period-bound exactitude that might otherwise alienate contemporary sensibilities. Matt Scott’s lighting makes sparing use of grand gestures, focusing instead on the nuanced cultivation of atmosphere, achieving its mood-crafting objectives with impeccable restraint and consummate efficacy.
Girls should be taught not only that they possess every right to shape their own lives, but also that the denial of independence precipitates inexorably a descent into despondency, corrosive resentment, and a misery that permeates the very marrow of being. Sybylla’s narrative stands as a testament to resistance—particularly arduous resistance, for she must steel herself not against hardship, but against pleasure itself; she must privilege the austere dictates of intellect over the intoxicating, ephemeral promises of romantic entanglement.
Every instinct of her adolescent being strains toward those deceptively beautiful, ultimately hollow comforts, yet it is precisely this opposition to that which appears most desirable that renders her struggle both agonizing and transcendent. In her defiance, we recognize the heart breaking truth that the most exquisite cages remain cages still, and that the price of genuine freedom is often the conscious, painful renunciation of that which sparkles most brightly.
Suzy Goes See 