Tag Archives: belvoir

Review: Amplified (Belvoir St Theatre)

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Venue: Belvoir St Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), Jan 29 – Feb 8, 2026
Playwright: Sheridan Harbridge
Director: Sarah Goodes
Cast: Sheridan Harbridge
Images by Jade Ellis

Theatre review
There have been few Australian women in the public eye whose rebelliousness has been openly celebrated, and Divinyls frontwoman Chrissy Amphlett remains the most indelible of them. Confrontational, anarchic and unapologetically wild, her on- and off-stage antics are rightly legendary, embodying a form of feminism that is still too easily dismissed as unpalatable. Amplified: The Exquisite Rock and Rage of Chrissy Amphlett, written by Sheridan Harbridge, insists that Amphlett be properly revered and memorialised. A biographical work woven through with many of the Divinyls’ greatest hits, Amplified is a tribute that is both accessible and surprising, effortlessly engaging while finding inventive ways to honour the life and legacy of a woman who refused convention at every turn. In Harbridge’s creation, we rediscover an Amphlett who continues to expose how little space Australia truly allows its women to misbehave.

As performer, Harbridge is faultless, deftly balancing our desire for a theatrical invocation of the icon’s essence with the grounded authority of a narrator whose warmth and enthusiasm we willingly surrender to. Under Sarah Goodes’ direction, Harbridge is given the space to tell Amphlett’s life story in a manner that feels consistently truthful and intimate, rarely relying on mimicry or lapsing into cheap sentimentality. The result is a work of rare sincerity—anchored, generous, and emotionally exacting—that achieves what the finest art aspires to: opening our hearts to a story worth telling, and in doing so, nourishing in us something that is collective and enduring.

Glenn Moorhouse’s exacting musical direction ensures a seamless flow between commentary and song, one that feels instinctive, purposeful, and never forced. The four-piece band brings ferocious spirit to this Australian rock-and-roll story, suitably cacophonous and libidinous in its energy. In fitting dialogue with this post-punk aesthetic is Michael Hankin’s production design, which balances rawness with clarity, meeting the visual demands of a one-woman show while allowing it to feel assured and fully realised. Paul Jackson’s lighting is similarly evocative, casting the narrative in shifting, enigmatic tones and conjuring vivid echoes of Amphlett hitting her stride on stages both humble and monumental.

In an ideal world, women would be free to become whoever they choose and to behave however they wish, so long as no harm is done. In the world as it exists, however, it falls to those with access—however limited—to power to exert it in the service of redressing systems that remain transparently unjust and exploitative. Chrissy Amphlett had ample incentive to obey every rule of the music industry and of the society that shaped it; many of her peers did exactly that, and were rewarded with far greater wealth and security. Amphlett’s defiance—calculated and instinctive alike—endures however as a legacy that remains dangerous, necessary, and worth remembering. Women may learn obedience as a means of survival, but progress is never secured through compliance; it is forged by recognising moments for resistance and exploiting them, again and again, to fracture a status quo that depends on silence to endure.

www.belvoir.com.au | www.jacarandaproductions.com.au

Review: Dear Son (Belvoir St Theatre)

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Venue: Belvoir St Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), Jan 8 – 25, 2026
Playwrights: Isaac Drandic, John Harvey (adapted from the anthology by Thomas Mayo)
Director: Isaac Drandic
Cast: Jimi Bani, Waangenga Blanco, Isaac Drandic, Kirk Page, Tibian Wyles
Images by Stephen Wilson Barker

Theatre review
Based on Thomas Mayo’s 2021 book of the same name, this stage adaptation of Dear Son brings to life twelve letters written by Indigenous men to their sons and fathers. Adapted by Isaac Drandic and John Harvey, the work translates Mayo’s exploration of love and vulnerability into theatrical form, extending his interrogation of modern masculinity beyond the page. In doing so, it reimagines how men on these lands might speak to one another—seeking to dismantle the harmful and toxic norms that have too often underpinned traditional models of male behaviour.

Framed as a men’s group gathered around a campfire, with the letters spoken into lived, embodied presence, Drandic’s direction of Dear Son foregrounds the intimacy that can exist between men. The production reveals the depth of emotional support made possible when fear, shame, and embarrassment are set aside, allowing connection and care to take their place.

Kevin O’Brien’s set design anchors the production in an earthy, grounded sensibility, while Delvene Cockatoo-Collins’s costumes lend each character a sense of everyday authenticity. David Walters’s lighting is emotionally resonant throughout, shaping each moment with care, and Wil Hughes’s sound design infuses the work with a quiet tenderness that gently guides and deepens our empathetic response.

Jimi Bani, Waangenga Blanco, Isaac Drandic, Kirk Page and Tibian Wyles comprise an ensemble representing First Nations men from across the continent. Each performer brings dignity and clarity of intention, and together their easy chemistry renders these portrayals of aspirational masculinity wholly convincing—models grounded in care, accountability, and a shared commitment to healing, both personal and communal. In their hands, healing is not an abstract ideal but a lived, generous practice—one that reaches outward, inviting audiences to imagine its possibilities for themselves.

www.belvoir.com.au

Review: The True History Of The Life And Death Of King Lear & His Three Daughters (Belvoir St Theatre)

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Venue: Belvoir St Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), Nov 15, 2025 – Jan 4, 2026
Playwright: William Shakespeare
Director: Eamon Flack
Cast: Ahunim Abebe, Peter Carroll, Tom Conroy, James Fraser, Charlotte Friels, Colin Friels, Raj Labade, Brandon McClelland, Conor Merrigan-Turner, Sukhbir (Sunny) Singh Walia, Alison Whyte, Charles Wu, Jana Zvedeniuk
Images by Brett Boardman

Theatre review
The “orange menace” has been re-elected, ruling from the White House with narcissism more brazen than ever, even as he appears to drift into senility on the cusp of eighty. We may be tempted to call these times unprecedentedly strange, yet Shakespeare wrote King Lear centuries ago—proof enough that the spectacle of a deluded sovereign is hardly new. Perhaps it is merely our overly idealistic sensibilities that persuade us that today’s disorder is somehow exceptional.

Directed by Eamon Flack and bearing the charmingly elaborate title The True History of the Life and Death of King Lear & His Three Daughters, this production is an unambiguous showcase of exceptional performance, even if its visual world feels short on ambition. Bob Cousins’ set design and James Stibilj’s costumes appear deliberately nondescript, yet their quiet elegance remains unmistakable. The music, however, is a sheer delight: intricately composed by Steve Francis and Arjunan Puveendran, with live accompaniment that draws out every atmospheric nuance, pulling us wholly into the narrative at each turn.

Leading man Colin Friels inhabits the psyche of the titular character with unwavering conviction, offering a performance marked by sustained authenticity, even if he does not always command the stage with equal magnetism. It is, perhaps, the supporting cast who linger more vividly in the mind, many of them seizing their moments with flashes of astonishing brilliance that hold us rapt. Raj Labade as Edmund, Brandon McClelland as Kent, and Alison Whyte as Gloucester, to name but a few, distinguish themselves with performances whose precision and vitality give the production much of its dramatic force.

It was, after all, in this very year of 2025 that we witnessed the emergence of the No Kings movement and the two massive protests it inspired. We need no elaborate justification for its urgency, but King Lear seems to articulate perfectly our present sentiments with tragic precision. In its portrait of power unmoored from wisdom, the play reminds us that the call to dismantle the crown is not a novelty of our age, but a lesson humanity keeps forgetting—until the kingdom burns again.

www.belvoir.com.au

Review: Meow’s Meow’s The Red Shoes (Belvoir St Theatre)

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Venue: Belvoir St Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), Oct 4 – Nov 9, 2025
Creator: Meow Meow
Director: Kate Champion
Cast: Kanen Breen, Mark Jones, Meow Meow, Dan Witton, Jethro Woodward
Images by Brett Boardman

Theatre review
In Hans Christian Andersen’s original tale, a young girl is condemned to dance without end, her obsession consuming her entire being. Meow Meow’s The Red Shoes transforms this fable into a self-reflexive performance piece, with Meow Meow — the self-proclaimed “eternal showgirl” — embodying an autobiographical figure who cannot stop performing, trapped in the perpetual motion of her own artistry. She describes her practice as non-linear and anti-narrative, and those qualities are evident here. Yet if the work falters, it is not because of its structural resistance to story, but rather because its gestures, however extravagant, begin to feel drained of true inspiration.

Nonetheless, Meow Meow’s song writing remains unequivocally delightful, buoyed by Jethro Woodward’s musical direction, which is both sophisticated and deeply satisfying. The staging of each number, under Kate Champion’s direction, abounds with visual allure, though the production’s overall lack of emotional resonance can leave one curiously hollow. Dann Barber’s set and costume design are splendidly realised, conjuring an atmosphere of apocalypse without ever relinquishing a sense of glamour. Meanwhile, Rachel Burke’s lighting is nothing short of transcendent, transforming the space with a radiance that is as visceral as it is luminous.

Meow Meow is, without question, a consummate performer — her voice rich and expressive, her physicality precise and magnetic. Yet beneath the impeccable technique lies a curious detachment, as though the machinery of performance turns flawlessly, but the spark within flickers faintly. In contrast, Kanen Breen radiates exuberance and conviction as her onstage companion, his presence a buoyant counterpoint that reanimates the stage. Exquisite musicians Mark Jones and Dan Witton, alongside Woodward, contribute not only live accompaniment but a heady air of bohemian decadence, infusing the production with an intoxicating sense of play.

Andersen’s 1845 tale The Red Shoes may glimmer with romance, yet beneath its sheen lies a stern puritanism — a warning against the woman who dares to follow her own desire. In Meow Meow’s hands, that cautionary fable is turned tenderly inside out: love, not vanity, becomes the pulse of her relentless motion. It is the reach for connection, not self-admiration, that keeps her dancing — as if true salvation lies in crafting communion, even in a space as fleeting and ephemeral as the theatre.

www.belvoir.com.au

Review: The Edit (25A Belvoir)

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Venue: Belvoir St Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), Oct 7 – 26, 2025
Playwright: Gabrielle Scawthorn
Director: Gabrielle Scawthorn
Cast: Iolanthe, Matilda Ridgway
Images by Robert Catto

Theatre review
Nia signs up for a reality dating show, while producer Jess hovers nearby to ensure the illusion of love unfolds without a hitch. But when the pair are caught up in a devastating incident, what surfaces isn’t the expected solidarity between women, but a betrayal so stark it throws everything into question. Gabrielle Scawthorn’s The Edit is a piercing look at the stranglehold of late capitalism on contemporary womanhood — and how easily we can slip into exploiting one another in pursuit of success. Rather than rallying against the forces that divide and commodify, we too often become willing participants in our own undoing.

Scawthorn’s writing is incisive and richly layered, full of surprising twists and morally complex characters that keep us alert and uneasy. As director, she delivers the work with unrelenting intensity and passion, sustaining a charged atmosphere from start to finish. The Edit is intellectually rigorous and emotionally fraught, most rewarding when it allows us fleeting glimpses into who these women truly are beneath the spectacle.

As Nia, Iolanthe offers an intriguing study of ambition under late capitalism, portraying with disarming authenticity the moral dissonance required for success. Her performance captures a young woman’s conviction that intelligence and charm can transcend systemic exploitation, a belief that we observe to be both seductive and self-defeating. Matilda Ridgway’s interpretation of Jess is marked by remarkable psychological acuity; her disingenuousness feels neither exaggerated nor opaque, but grounded in a credible logic of survival. As the play unfolds, Jess becomes increasingly reprehensible, yet Ridgway’s depictions remain resolutely authentic, allowing us to perceive the structural and emotional pressures that shape such behaviour.

Set design by Ruby Jenkins cleverly frames the action with visual cues that expose the hidden machinery of television production, and the layers of deceit that sustain its manufactured fantasies. The stage becomes both a workplace and a trap — a reminder that behind every glossy image lies manipulation at work. Phoebe Pilcher’s lighting design is striking in its chill and precision, evoking the emotional coldness that governs human behaviour in a system built on economic cannibalism. Music and sound by Alyx Dennison heighten the drama with an organic subtlety; their contributions are seamlessly integrated yet undeniably potent in shaping the production’s tension and mood.

The pursuit of success feels almost instinctive, a shared ambition ingrained from an early age, yet its meaning remains troublingly mutable. What we come to define as “success” is so often shaped by external forces, by market logics and cultural expectations that reward ambition only when it conforms to the existing order. For the young, particularly those taking their first tentative steps into professional life, this pursuit can be both intoxicating and perilous. The world teaches its lessons harshly, and every triumph seems to come at the expense of something quietly vital.

We are endlessly seduced by the shimmer of promise, by images of prosperity, relevance, and acclaim, and in our hunger, we mistake the surface for substance. The capitalist dream markets itself as empowerment, yet its currency is exploitation. Still, we continue to invest in the system, not solely out of necessity but from an almost devotional belief that perseverance will one day grant transcendence. The tragedy, of course, is that such faith is misplaced. The machine does not elevate; it consumes. It extracts our labour, our time, our spirit, and gives back only a fleeting sense of validation before demanding more. In the end, the system does not nurture our aspirations; it feeds on them, leaving us diminished, yet still reaching, still convinced that the next victory will finally make us whole.

www.belvoir.com.au | www.legittheatreco.com | www.unlikelyproductions.co.uk

Review: Orlando (Belvoir St Theatre)

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Venue: Belvoir St Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), Sep 6 – 28, 2025
Playwrights: Carissa Licciardello, Elsie Yager (from the novel by Virginia Woolf)
Director: Carissa Licciardello
Cast: Janet Anderson, Nyx Calder, Emily Havea, Amber McMahon, Nic Prior, Shannen Alyce Quan, Zarif
Images by Brett Boardman

Theatre review
At a pivotal moment in the production, Lord Orlando becomes Lady Orlando, and with this transformation, questions of gender and identity are revealed as the very axis of Carissa Licciardello and Elsie Yager’s adaptation of Virginia Woolf’s 1928 novel Orlando: A Biography. Shortened simply to Orlando, the work preserves the fantastical spirit and poetic sweep of Woolf’s novel, though some of its intellectual density seems to have dissipated in translation to the stage.

Its inquiries into sexism, while sincere, often feel suspended in the past, unable to reproduce the startling contemporaneity of Woolf’s text. At times, gender is rendered too simplistically in Licciardello’s direction. Yet the injustices faced by Lady Orlando—most notably the loss of property and wealth on account of her sex—remain a compelling anchor, ensuring the adaptation retains a measure of significance.

Given the scale of wealth under examination, the staging never quite achieves the level of opulence one might anticipate. David Fleischer’s set design is restrained yet elegant, while Nick Schlieper’s lighting adds welcome layers of drama. It is Ella Butler’s costumes, however, that most vividly conjure the dreamlike luxury of Orlando’s world, complete with outrageous wigs that deliver a sense of theatrical extravagance.

A delightful ensemble of seven performers leads us through this centuries-spanning odyssey. Remarkably, four different actors step into the role of Orlando at various stages of the story. Shannen Alyce Quan lends the character a quiet intensity, infusing Woolf’s poetic language with luminous clarity. Janet Anderson brings striking beauty to Orlando’s first feminine incarnation, and later proves irresistibly funny in a string of smaller roles. Equally memorable is Amber McMahon, regal and commanding as Queen Elizabeth, then deliciously camp as a seventeenth-century suitor.

The impermanence of identity underscores the endlessly shifting nature of what we call reality. This is not to say that categories like gender and sex lack meaning—on the contrary, they are among the most powerful forces shaping how we move through the world. Their paradox is that they remain fluid and insubstantial, yet exert a power that orders our very existence. It is precisely this tension, between mutability and determinism, that compels us to always return to them in endless questioning.

www.belvoir.com.au

Review: Life Is A Dream (25A Belvoir)

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Venue: Belvoir St Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), Sep 2 – 21, 2025
Playwright: Claudia Osborne (after Pedro Calderón de la Barca)
Directors: Claudia Osborne, Solomon Thomas
Cast: Thomas Campbell, Mark Lee, Shiv Palekar, Essie Randles, Shikara Ringdahl, Ariadne Sgouros, Ariyan Sharma
Images by Phil Erbacher

Theatre review
For his entire life, 22-year-old Segismundo has been confined to a room, conditioned by Astolfo’s daily refrain that he is “dangerous and destructive, but not in this room.” Claudia Osborne’s Life is a Dream, inspired by Pedro Calderón de la Barca’s 1636 masterpiece, reimagines this tale of captivity and destiny for a contemporary audience. The production balances quirky charm and moments of playful wonder with a grounded exploration of the human condition. Osborne’s version points to the enduring dictum that our choices carry consequences, and that, ultimately, we reap what we sow.

Under the direction of Osborne and Solomon Thomas, Life is a Dream achieves a rare balance. Its offbeat humour keeps the work buoyant and unpredictable, while its underlying seriousness lends the production weight and resonance. The staging stands out for its distinctive style and inventive sensibility, which not only sustain engagement but also encourage the audience to grapple with its themes while remaining open to curiosity.

Ariyan Sharma shines as Segismundo, capturing a sheltered innocence that feels wholly authentic while subtly conveying the hidden truths his character has yet to grasp. He is a thoroughly endearing presence, remarkable for an artistry that combines keen intellect with expressive physicality. Thomas Campbell’s Astolfo brings tension and intrigue, his clever rendering of ambiguity opening up a world of imagined backstories that lead to this extraordinary moment. The rest of the cast add layers of psychological complexity and emotional richness, and together their chemistry transforms Life is a Dream into a fully immersive and enthralling theatrical experience.

Set and costume design by Cris Baldwin evokes a contemporary space, grounded in a sense of normalcy that keeps the audience connected to the action. Kelsey Lee’s lighting and Madeleine Picard’s sound design weave the atmosphere with quiet finesse, lending the production an elegant rhythm that draws us deeper into the story and the emotional lives of its characters.

This updated Life is a Dream resonates as a warning: when we withhold kindness from those over whom we hold power, it is our own cruelty that breeds further cruelty. Amidst all the political turmoil of 2025, we are compelled to approach this centuries-old tale not with innocence, but with clear eyes, aware of the dangers we continue to create, and the responsibility we bear to break these tragic cycles.

www.belvoir.com.au | www.fervour.net.au | www.regroupperformancecollective.org

Review: Werkaholics (25A Belvoir)

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Venue: Belvoir St Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), Jul 29 – Aug 17, 2025
Playwright: Vivian Nguyen
Director: Nicole Pingon
Cast: Ruby Duncan, Georgia Oom, Shirong Wu
Images by Lucy Parakhina

Theatre review
As an influencer, Lilian is bombarded with conflicting signals about her worth. Each piece of digital content that earns her praise also draws criticism for perceived narcissism. In contrast, Jillian, a struggling actor, endures relentless rejection and financial hardship, yet is considered to be leading a life of apparent integrity. Capitalism is the problem, in Vivian Nguyen’s Werkaholics, a play about two Asian-Australian women who can do nothing right. We watch Lilian and Jillian try to attain success, by following various prescribed methods, only to find the rulebook turning against them.

Werkaholics is a clever and exuberant piece of writing that although tends too often to turn convoluted, offers a thoughtful meditation on modern economics in an era defined by digitised social life and the unprecedented commodification of the personal. Direction by Nicole Pingon is memorable for a charming and irreverent playfulness, that allows us to regard the feminist message in a commensurately subversive, and distinctly queer, manner. The show is one that practises what it preaches.

Set and costumes by Ruby Jenkins are rendered with a simplicity that foregrounds the female bodies that tell a story about worth and exploitation. Video projections by Harrison Hall and Daniel Herten offer seamless enticements into realms of artifice, while lights by Frankie Clarke convey emotional complexity. Music and sound by Christine Pan imbue a charged atmosphere, heightening tension in both its comedic and dramatic turns.

Georgia Oom as Lilian and Shirong Wu as Jillian form a compelling duo, drawing us into a sharp interrogation of social structures marked by deep-rooted injustices along lines of gender and race. Each performer radiates infectious energy, leaving a lasting impression with the bold effervescence they bring to the stage. Ruby Duncan is effective as Sage, a duplicitous character who personifies the sinister hypocrisy of those intent on preserving entrenched institutions that profit from marginalisation and exclusion.

Many of us participate in systems that ultimately work against our own interests, simply because they often represent the only means we know to survive. Indeed, their stratagem involves projecting a sense of inevitability, as it conceals the subterfuge of deplorable injustices. Some believe that we can alter its machinations while operating within it. Others argue that history shows how little meaningful change is effected without radical tactics. In any case, we need to be unafraid of disruption and continue finding new ways to create change, believing that every impact, big or small, will contribute to a consequential resistance that moves us toward something better.

www.belvoir.com.au | www.purpletapeproductions.com

Review: Grief Is The Thing With Feathers (Belvoir St Theatre)

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Venue: Belvoir St Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), Jul 26 – Aug 29, 2025
Playwrights: Simon Phillips, Nick Schlieper, Toby Schmitz (from the novel by Max Porter)
Director: Simon Phillips
Cast: Philip Lynch, Fraser Morrison, Toby Schmitz
Images by Brett Boardman

Theatre review
Recently widowed, a scholar finds himself utterly lost, adrift in grief. As a specialist in the work of Ted Hughes, it is perhaps inevitable that a crow—the most iconic figure in Hughes’ oeuvre—should appear, inserting itself into his life as companion and surrogate. Based on the novel by Max Porter, Grief Is the Thing with Feathers captures with striking authenticity both the frustrating stasis and the slow, almost imperceptible progress that inevitably accompanies bereavement.

Adapted for the stage by Simon Phillips, Nick Schlieper, and Toby Schmitz, this transposition pulses with an aggressive rhythm and a tonal grandeur that echoes both the literary references and the visceral experience of sorrow and despair. There is a regrettable emotional distance in its delivery, yet the sheer theatrical ambition of this reimagining of Porter’s novel remains undeniably impressive.

Phillips’ direction is boldly imaginative, capturing the poetic chaos of the widower’s interactions with the crow in a production that is truly dazzling for the senses. Video design by Craig Wilkinson, along with illustrations by Jon Weber, form a highly evocative element of the staging, especially useful in bringing to life its supernatural dimensions. Schlieper’s lighting is endlessly creative and exquisitely beautiful, masterfully evoking a universe of shifting realms. Sound by Daniel Hertern and music by Freya Schack-Arnott add immeasurable power, in their dynamic auditory renderings of this surrealist presentation. 

The widower is played by Schmitz who proves himself a commanding leading man, and a detailed artist who encourages us to regard the work with curiosity and discernment. As his young sons, Philip Lynch and Fraser Morrison deliver wonderfully spirited performances, injecting a vital effervescence into a production that might otherwise risk becoming overly sombre.

Grief is rarely a constant emotional state, but it can leave a lasting imprint, reshaping a person’s disposition into something permanently shadowed. While there are steps one might take to prevent such a descent, the most enduring strategy is often to weather the storm, trusting that its force will eventually subside. It can be a sad thought that those we have lost might one day be forgotten, but there comes a time when their memory must be gently placed in the recesses of the mind, to make room for living.

www.belvoir.com.au | www.andrewhenrypresents.com

Review: The Spare Room (Belvoir St Theatre)

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Venue: Belvoir St Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), Jun 7 – Jul 13, 2025
Playwright: Eamon Flack (from the novel by Helen Garner)
Director: Eamon Flack
Cast: Elizabeth Alexander, Judy Davis, Emma Diaz, Alan Dukes, Hannah Waterman
Images by Brett Boardman

Theatre review
Nicola is spending a few weeks in Melbourne, as she undergoes “alternative cancer treatment”. Helen has volunteered as carer through the ordeal, completely unconvinced by the bogus claims of the expensive but unsubstantiated therapies. Helen Garner’s 2008 novel The Spare Room deals with sickness and death, from the perspectives of those who are terminally ill, and those close to them.

Adapted by Eamon Flack, this theatrical version is thankfully humorous in tone, even if it does delve deep into difficult subject matter. What it discusses is certainly worthwhile, considering its universality, and its somewhat taboo nature only makes the experience more meaningful. The show is mostly an engaging one, even if performers seem consistently under-rehearsed. Judy Davis as Helen has a tendency for physical exaggeration, while Elizabeth Alexander as Nicola is overly trepidatious, but notwithstanding these imperfections, both are able to tell the story convincingly.

To address the practical requirements of the text, set design by Mel Page incorporates elements that are disparately homely and clinical, leaving the space to languish in an awkward intermediary, never really conveying any believable locale. Paul Jackson’s lights offer intricate atmospheric enhancements, as does music by Steve Francis, notable for being performed live by a very attentive Anthea Cottee on her trusty cello.

At her time of need, Nicola becomes hugely demanding of her friends and family. Her friends and family in turn discover, that there are no burdens more special than those of a loved one, in their final moments. 

www.belvoir.com.au