Tag Archives: comedy

Review: The Lion King (Capitol Theatre)

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Venue: Capitol Theatre (Sydney NSW), from Apr 18, 2026
Book: Roger Allers, Irene Mecchi
Music & Lyrics: Elton John, Tim Rice
Director: Julie Taymor
Cast: Nick Afoa, Daniel Frederiksen, Winston Hillyer, Jamie McGregor, Emily Nkomo, Aphiiwe Nyezi, Dev Raval, Rutene Spooner, Wilhemina Umeh-Nicholas, Mat Verevis, Benn Welford, Ezra Williams, Buyi Zama
Images by Daniel Boud, Cylla von Tiedemann

Theatre review
While The Lion King’s meditations on destiny and legacy possess a timeless resonance, it is the contemporary allegory of a narcissistic, inept ruler yielding to a leader of integrity and benevolence that strikes its most urgent chord today. We watch Scar lay waste to the kingdom, yet our spirits soar when Simba returns to reclaim his birthright and restore harmony to the ravaged land. In our present climate, this is precisely the fairy tale we require.

Nearly three decades since its debut, this stage adaptation not only reverberates with renewed significance; its peerless theatrical craftsmanship remains as spectacular as it is refined. The puppetry and mask work continue to stand unrivaled within the Broadway tradition, its sweeping vision no less breathtaking and hypnotic in an era where LED screens have become commonplace, often reducing live performance to a pseudo-virtual spectacle.

Under music director Laura Tipoki, the score surges with greater power than ever, stirring the soul and elevating the spirit. Aphiwe Nyezi and Dev Raval share the role of Simba, both commanding the stage with extraordinary physicality and magnetism. Buyi Zama proves unforgettable as Rafiki, her formidable presence and vocal brilliance captivating us from the moment the curtain rises. Jamie McGregor mines the comedy of Timon with expert precision, his puppetry skills not only conjuring a fully realized character but also delivering the evening’s most riotous laughter. Daniel Frederiksen’s Scar is appropriately inscrutable, deploying both vocal menace and physical stillness to forge a figure of genuine villainy.

We may no longer inhabit a world where sovereignty is conferred by bloodline alone, yet we remain acutely aware of the necessity for principled individuals to occupy positions of power and advance the common good. The selfish will always covet the crown; our enduring duty is to unite in keeping them from seizing it, and to cast them down should they ascend.

www.thelionkingmusical.com.au

Review: Cluedo (Theatre Royal)

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Venue: Theatre Royal (Sydney NSW), Apr 11 – May 10, 2026
Playwright: Sandy Rustin (based on the screenplay by Jonathan Lynn)
Director: Luke Joslin
Cast: Octavia Barron-Martin, Rachael Beck, Laurence Boxhall, Lib Campbell, Olivia Deeble, David James, Nat Jobe, Genevieve Lemon, Joshua Monaghan, Adam Murphy, Grant Piro
Images by Jeff Busby

Theatre review
Six guests converge upon a secluded estate for an mysterious gathering, wherein Wadsworth, the obsequious butler, reveals their shared predicament: each has suffered extortion at the hands of the nefarious Mr. Boddy, whose abrupt murder initiates an evening of escalating pandemonium.

Despite its contemporary provenance—adapted by Sandy Rustin a mere six years ago from the iconic board game and its 1985 cinematic counterpart—this production of Cluedo exudes a decidedly antiquated sensibility, trafficking in broad farcical conventions and groan-inducing “dad jokes” delivered with such thudding deliberateness, that their artlessness appears almost intentional.

Alas, director Luke Joslin’s deployment of high camp, while tonally apt, cannot disguise this relentless barrage of puerile humour into genuine wit, though the proceedings maintain a vigorous kinetic energy that helps sustains audience attention. The ensemble operates with choreographed cohesion, rendering exuberant chaos with polished finesse; Grant Piro’s Wadsworth epitomizes this aesthetic—an unapologetic homage to the vaudevillian excesses of the 1970s and 80s, all nostalgic bombast without the faintest whisper of nuance.

James Browne’s scenic and sartorial designs emerge as the production’s redemption, conjuring vintage grandeur while deploying spatial ingenuity to navigate the mansion’s proliferating chambers with surprising dexterity. Sean Peter’s soundscape amplifies the counterfeit melodrama at every turn, augmenting the unrelenting slapstick with sonic hyperbole, while Jasmine Rizk’s lighting design bathes both architectural splendor and character eccentricities in flatteringly dramatic illumination.

Though Cluedo ultimately offers scant entertainment value, the consummate skill and craftsmanship underlying its execution—the meticulous professionalism permeating every discipline—provides its own peculiar, modest gratification.

www.cluedoplay.com.au

Review: Gutenberg! The Musical! (Hayes Theatre)

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Venue: Hayes Theatre Co (Potts Point NSW), Apr 10 – May 10, 2026
Creators: Anthony King, Scott Brown
Director: Richard Carroll
Cast: Stephen Anderson, Ryan González
Images by John McRae

Theatre review
Bud and Doug are conducting a backer’s audition—a hallowed, anxiety-drenched ritual of the American theatre—to an intimate assembly that they pray includes angel investors with Broadway connections. That these two hope to leap from this modest presentation to the Great White Way represents either breathtaking entrepreneurial courage or delusional hubris; in the delicious friction between those poles lies the show’s particular charm. Conceived two decades ago by Anthony King and Scott Brown, Gutenberg! The Musical! operates on a deceptively slender premise, its book and lyrics unremarkable on the page. Yet as Richard Carroll’s production demonstrates, material that reads as slight becomes transcendent when filtered through the alchemy of exacting performance.

This is camp elevated to high art—unapologetically exuberant, intellectually irreverent, and executed with rigorous precision masquerading as spontaneity. Stephen Anderson and Ryan González navigate the two-hander format with such virtuosic ease that they effectively erase the text’s deficiencies through the sheer force of their charisma. They possess that rarest of theatrical gifts: the ability to make the audience complicit in the illusion, transforming spectators into enthusiastic conspirators. Their technical proficiency—vocally immaculate, comically razor-sharp—serves a deeper purpose: they convince us that Bud and Doug’s quixotic dream deserves to succeed, if only because the passion propelling it is so infectious.

They receive impeccable support from Zara Stanton, whose work at the keyboard as accompanist and music director provides more than musical infrastructure; her presence completes the trio with an understated wit that mirrors the leads’ symbiotic rapport. Shannon Burns’ choreography excavates humour from physicality, generating kinetic comedy within the stringent limitations of the space—proving that inventive staging requires merely bodies in motion, not architectural spectacle. Lochie Odgers’ scenic design and Lily Mateljan’s costumes embrace aesthetic economy not as constraint but as dramaturgical choice, authentically evoking the scrambled, duct-taped urgency of fledgling theatrical development. Only Veronique Benett’s lighting design luxuriates in complexity; her dynamic, intricate compositions assert the transformative power of illumination when other visual elements remain deliberately, appropriately threadbare.

The production invites a familiar meditation: musical theatre depends upon entertainers who can suspend disbelief through sheer force of personality, and we are rightfully grateful for the ephemeral wonders they bestow. Yet Gutenberg! The Musical! also underscores the distinction between the immediate gratification of laughter and the lingering resonance of meaning. The evening delivers the former in abundance; whether it transcends into the latter remains debatable. Still, if laughter proves the best medicine, then this production administers a potent dosage, leaving its audience indisputably invigorated—if not permanently altered—by the encounter.

www.hayestheatre.com.au

Review: English (Seymour Centre)

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Venue: Seymour Centre (Chippendale NSW), Apr 9 – May 2, 2026
Playwright: Sanaz Toossi
Director: Craig Baldwin
Cast: Pedram Biazar, Nicole Chamoun, Neveen Hanna, Minerva Khodabande, Setareh Naghoni
Images by Richard Farland

Theatre review
In a modest classroom in Karaj, 2008, where the air itself seems thick with unspoken anxiety, Marjan presides over a small cohort of Iranians preparing for the TOEFL (Test of English as a Foreign Language) examination. They arrive bearing different destinies but share a common condition: displacement. Sanaz Toossi’s English excavates the immigrant experience with surgical precision, revealing how language acquisition becomes both lifeline and loss, a means of escape that simultaneously erases.

Toossi’s work operates in the confluence of colonized trauma and pragmatic survival; it deftly weaves exploration of love for a homeland and the quiet grief of witnessing it unravel. The play captures the immigrant experience with astonishing complexity, yet articulates with remarkable clarity the intricate and often agonizing challenges of forging a sense of home in foreign, unfamiliar terrain. Under Craig Baldwin’s direction, the production holds the audience spellbound from start to finish—devastating in its most searing dramatic moments, yet threaded throughout with sharp, scintillating wit. It achieves the rare feat of being both thoroughly entertaining and profoundly resonant, offering the kind of theatre that feels deeply, viscerally satisfying. For those with personal ties to the themes Toossi explores, English becomes nothing less than cathartic.

The ensemble executes this vision with extraordinary nuance. As Marjan, the eminently watchable Nicole Chamoun navigates the character’s post-colonial consciousness through restraint rather than histrionics—her trauma articulated in the tightening of a jaw, the careful modulation of vowels that betray her own complicated relationship with the English she peddles. Setareh Naghoni’s Elham embodies the paradox of the proud exile: armoured with abrasive humour yet perpetually vulnerable, her hard-headedness serving as both defence mechanism and prison.

Minerva Khodabande’s effortless charm as Goli provides necessary luminosity, her youthful exuberance offering fleeting respite from the production’s heavier thematic weight, while the elegant Pedram Biazar’s turn as Omid maintains a dichotomy of warmth and opacity that complicates the narrative’s moral architecture, suggesting that escape always exacts its own particular tariffs. Most shattering is Neveen Hanna’s Roya, whose separation from her Canadian grandchildren becomes a meditation on intergenerational rupture. Hanna navigates the character’s desperation with such authenticity that her moments of comic relief—delivered with impeccable timing—land with twice the force, reminding us that grief and laughter often share the same respiratory system.

The technical elements eschew spectacle in favour of psychological acuity. Spencer Herd’s lighting design maintains a quotidian warmth during instructional scenes, then shifts during transitions to more expressionistic palettes that externalize the characters’ interiority. Hamed Sadeghi’s compositions function as aural set changes, traversing genres to evoke Iran’s cultural landscape while underscoring the disorientation in the very act of relocation. Soham Apte’s set and Rita Naidu’s costumes embrace a deliberate anti-theatricality; their unvarnished naturalism strips away distraction, forcing our attention onto the micro-gestures and linguistic stumbles that constitute the drama’s true intentions.

For many migrants, the journey begins long before their own lifetime. Where we find ourselves today is shaped not only by our individual choices and circumstances but also by the movement of ancestors who, generations earlier, sought better tomorrows for their children and their children’s children. Yet in the very act of building better lives, we often lose the language—or the permission—to speak of the hardships and ruptures that come with being pushed away from one’s homeland. English, however, refuses that silence, turning a searching gaze toward both the pain and the hope that bind so many of us together.

www.seymourcentre.com | www.outhousetheatre.org

Review: Drive Your Plow Over The Bones Of The Dead (Belvoir St Theatre)

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Venue: Belvoir St Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), Mar 28 – May 10, 2026
Playwright: Eamon Flack (from the novel by Olga Tokarczuk)
Director: Eamon Flack
Cast: Paula Arundell, Marco Chiappi, Gareth Davies, Emma Diaz, Alan Dukes, Nadie Kammallaweera, Colin Moody, Daniel R. Nixon, Pamela Rabe, Ziggy Resnick, Bruce Spence
Images by Brett Boardman

Theatre review
In Eamon Flack’s stage adaptation of Olga Tokarczuk’s 2009 novel Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead, the protagonist Duszejko prowls her provincial Polish town prophesying that “the animals are taking revenge” in response to a spate of recent local deaths. Yet her warnings, delivered with messianic fervour, seem merely to reverberate against indifferent ears; the town dismisses the elderly woman’s agitation as the harmless eccentricity of advanced age. Flack’s rendering possesses unmistakeable whimsical charm, though at three and a half hours, its duration feels excessive rather than justified, lacking the narrative propulsion or emotional crescendo requisite for such temporal investment.

While Flack’s direction and writing illuminate the everyday absurdities of rural existence, the production never compels us to commit intellectually or viscerally to its philosophical preoccupations, however weighty they may appear. One hungers for gravitational pull—for the narrative elements to coalesce into something of genuine resonance—but such synthesis remains elusive. Leading lady Pamela Rabe, although unable to elicit our empathetic alignment with Duszejko’s anxieties, commands respect through sheer stamina; her virtually uninterrupted presence constitutes a dazzling accomplishment of concentration and performative integrity.

The ten-member supporting ensemble, regrettably, operates largely under capacity. Though each actor enjoys fleeting opportunities to demonstrate competence, only a minority are granted material of genuine substance. Foremost among these is Daniel R. Nixon, whose portrayal of Dizzy injects the production with a welcome colourfulness, enlivening this bleakly comic vision of Poland with idiosyncratic vitality.

The technical execution, conversely, rises above. Romaine Harper’s scenic design undergoes constant metamorphosis, transporting us through the many locales of Duszejko’s adventures, with remarkable fluidity. Though deceptively minimalist in conception, the transformations occur with such seamless efficacy as to constitute their own form of theatrical alchemy. Ella Butler’s costuming largely hews to archetypal fidelity, yet a sequence depicting a town fête erupts into delightful sartorial eccentricity, offering moments of genuine visual pleasure. Morgan Moroney’s lighting design proves even more remarkable, not merely illuminating Duszejko’s external environs but rendering her psychological interiority with great nuance, achieving repeated moments of visual transcendence. Alyx Dennison’s sounds and music complete this sensorial immersion, conjuring a Poland at once fantastical and earthbound—capable of elevating our consciousness toward wonder whilst maintaining an unwavering connection to the narrative’s ecological substrata.

Nature’s vengeance, it seems, is not mere metaphor but manifest reality. Climate catastrophe signals tectonic ecological shifts that we interpret as apocalyptic only because humanity occupies the centre of our own narrative; conceivably, the planet has simply determined that its most pernicious pest requires elimination, undertaking transformations calculated for its own perpetuation rather than ours. Compounding this existential precarity, humanity accelerates its own dissolution through interminable warfare and the unconscionable and accelerating rapacity of unfettered capitalism—systems that devour the very populations upon which they depend. The cosmos will persist, indifferent; the duration of humanity’s insignificance within that vast continuity remains the only uncertainty.

www.belvoir.com.au

Review: A Transgender Woman On The Internet, Crying (Old Fitz Theatre)

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Venue: Old Fitzroy Theatre (Woolloomooloo NSW), Mar 26 – Apr 11, 2026
Book, Music & Lyrics: Cassie Hamilton
Director: Jean Tong
Cast: Blake Appelqvist, Cassie Hamilton, Rosie Rai, Teo Vergara
Images by Brett Boardman

Theatre review
A Transgender Woman on the Internet, Crying by Cassie Hamilton is a work of considerable ambition: a musical that interrogates the fractious politics of contemporary trans identity with both intellectual rigor and genuine entertainment value. The narrative centres on Avis, a social media influencer whose transition to womanhood is conducted almost entirely through the counsel of her followers—an arrangement that strikes her would-be friend Corrin as not merely misguided but politically retrograde. Corrin’s overtures of friendship, we soon discover, are calculated; they intend to expose Avis and dismantle her influence. What emerges is a drama less about betrayal than about the impossible question of whether there exists, in Hamilton’s formulation, any “correct” mode of being trans.

Under Jean Tong’s direction, the production achieves that rare alchemy of the serious and the playful. The tone is urgent without being hectoring, consistently amusing yet never trivializing the stakes at hand. Lillian Hearne’s musical direction deploys electronica to construct what one might call a deceptively frothy soundscape—girl-pop textures that, upon closer listening, reveal considerable compositional sophistication. Dan Ham’s choreography pushes the performers to their limits, delivering bursts of energy while ensuring every movement remains flattering. Rachel Lee and Nick Moloney’s lighting design navigates the production’s numerous location shifts with efficiency, though one wishes for more granular calibration of emotional atmosphere. Ruby Jenkins’ set design leans toward the simple side but never feels insufficient.

Hamilton herself proves a formidable stage presence as Avis, negotiating an impressive emotional register with a nuance that compels genuine investment in her predicament. Her excellent singing voice is a genuine joy, only amplifying the appeal of her catchy songwriting. The compelling Blake Appelqvist brings necessary credibility to the challenging role of Corrin, and the chemistry between the two principals lends the production its persuasive force. In supporting roles, Rosie Rai and Teo Vergara deserve particular mention for their depiction of a gender-nonconforming community rendered with humour and, crucially, tenderness.

Women, cis and trans alike, have historically laboured under regimes of visibility that dictate permissible self-presentation, imposing unreasonable requirements and unattainable ideals. There always exist however, those who refuse such mandates, who proliferate alternative definitions of being, who continually expand the circumference of what womanhood, and indeed gender itself, might signify.

There is no question that gender remains a system of control, and though few of us can claim to have fully evaded its grip, there are countless ways to twist and subvert its rules, even to the point of exposing their meaninglessness. Conversely, those rules can certainly be followed strictly—so long as those who choose to adhere, learn to accept that others will find their own ways, of being human.

www.oldfitztheatre.com.au | www.instagram.com/atwotic

Review: The Prom (Teatro)

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Venue: Teatro (Leichhardt NSW), Mar 24 – Apr 26, 2026
Book: Rob Martin, Chad Beguelin
Music: Matthew Sklar
Lyrics: Chad Beguelin
Directors: Andrew Bevis, Nathan M. Wright
Cast: Erin Bruce, Renae Corser née Berry, Murray Cunninghame, Paige Fallu, Brad Green, Ewan Herdman, Nina Hurley, Scott Irwin, Abbey McPherson, Sophie Montague, Brendan Mungar, Caroline O’Connor, Luke Reynolds
Images by Robert Miniter

Theatre review
When a clutch of fading Broadway luminaries descends upon rural Indiana to champion a lesbian teenager barred from escorting her girlfriend to the high school prom, the 2016 musical The Prom possesses a compelling premise, yet its execution frequently falters; the book and songs, for what is ostensibly a deeply emotional story, seldom earn the investment they demand, and the humour often falls flat.

Directors Andrew Bevis and Nathan M. Wright nonetheless infuse the proceedings with ample dynamism and a spirited flair; Wright’s choreography, in particular, distinguishes itself through infectious exuberance executed with commendable vigour by a spirited young ensemble. Nick Fry’s set design is unapologetically flamboyant, draping the entire backdrop in shimmering, multi-hued sequins that delight the eye. Cornelia Cassimatis’s costuming matches this chromatic audacity, though occasionally sacrificing sartorial sophistication for spectacle. Roderick Van Gelder’s lighting, whilst compositionally conventional, nonetheless succeeds in amplifying the production’s kinetic vitality.

The cast labours with palpable dedication, their commitment evident even as the material proves resistant to transcendence. Among them, Brendan Monger’s Barry emerges as a singular delight, his impeccable comic timing compensating for the script’s deficiencies. Caroline O’Connor, portraying the narcissistic Dee Dee Allen, deploys a calculated theatrical excess that miraculously breathes life into even the most anemic one-liners.

That The Prom addresses queerphobia with such explicit moral clarity feels almost achingly prescient given its pre-Trump provenance; the subsequent decade has witnessed a grievous retrenchment of LGBTQIA+ rights throughout the American heartland, rendering the musical’s conceit not merely relevant but increasingly urgent—a sobering reminder that what once played as contemporary fiction now reads as documentary reality, contemplated with genuine anguish.

www.teatroitalianforum.com.au

Review: Bette & Joan (Ensemble Theatre)

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Venue: Ensemble Theatre (Kirribilli NSW), Mar 20 – Apr 25, 2026
Playwright: Anton Burge
Director: Liesel Badorrek
Cast: Jeanette Cronin, Lucia Mastrantone
Images by Prudence Upton

Theatre review
Anton Burge’s 2011 play Bette & Joan offers a backstage glimpse into the lives of Hollywood legends Davis and Crawford during the making of the classic film Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? Set against the fraught atmosphere of that production, the drama examines their legendary feud and fraught intimacy, while exposing the deeper vulnerabilities of two aging muses navigating a merciless industry built on rigid hierarchies and the constant threat of obsolescence.

Burge’s script navigates the labyrinthine psychology of these titans with admirable precision, yet the work itself proves uneven in its ability to sustain engagement. Under Liesel Badorrek’s direction, the production’s stylistic elements are cohesively managed, resulting in a production that looks and sounds exquisite—but one that never quite draws us into its central concerns. Grace Deacon’s production design evokes the insular world of a soundstage, with the rear facades of filmmaking flats forming a backdrop. The two dressing tables, though impeccably glamorous, feel somewhat confining. Deacon fares better with her costuming, which achieves a haunting verisimilitude in resurrecting the stars’ 1962 silhouettes—the tweed and talons, the calculated armour of glamour under siege.

Cameron Smith’s video projections—whether pre-recorded or live—are seamlessly integrated and visually splendid, conjuring the texture of an earlier cinematic era. Lighting designer Kelsey Lee and composer Ross Johnston contribute moments of heightened drama, infusing this tribute to old Hollywood with flashes of theatrical beauty, even as the production rarely penetrates beyond surface-level homage.

Performers Jeanette Cronin and Lucia Mastrantone command the stage with palpable confidence, holding our attention through the sheer artistry of their mimicry. Cronin, in particular, delivers a strikingly accurate portrayal of Davis, capturing her distinctive mannerisms, vocal inflections, and a face seemingly sculpted from the same volcanic material as her subject’s.

At its core, Bette & Joan grapples with the phenomenon of female rivalry, revealing that even at the highest echelons of success, women remain bound by shared struggles within a system that depends on their diminishment. By cannibalizing each other’s reputations, they performed the industry’s work of self-sabotage, ensuring that the true mechanisms of dominance remained invisible and intact. Power in its most insidious forms flourishes when the disenfranchised are kept apart—persuaded that their true enemy lies beside them, while the forces that exploit them operate with impunity.

www.ensemble.com.au

Review: My Brilliant Career (Sydney Theatre Company)

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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.

www.sydneytheatre.com.au

Review: Stage Kiss (New Theatre)

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Venue: New Theatre (Newtown NSW), Mar 18 – Apr 11, 2026
Playwright: Sarah Ruhl
Director: Alice Livingstone
Cast: Emma Delle-Vedove, Nicola Denton, Victoria Fowler, Lynden Jones, Nicholas Papademetriou, Frank Shanahan, Jason Spindlow
Images by Bob Seary

Theatre review
In Sarah Ruhl’s comedy Stage Kiss, an actress, cast opposite the very man with whom she once had a bitter falling out, finds herself helplessly ensnared in a backstage romance. Though her husband and daughter look on with dismay, she surrenders to the peculiar intimacy of the stage, where simulated passion gives way to genuine longing. The play’s central conceit—that the body cannot tell a feigned kiss from a real one—becomes a sly meditation on how art blurs the line between imagination and truth.

Alice Livingstone’s direction mines every vein of comedy in the text, yielding a production of genuine charm. As the central figure, Emma Delle-Vedove is wholly convincing, imbuing her performance with a satisfying depth that lends the storytelling real substance. Opposite her, Jason Spindlow matches her stride for stride, his timing and comic sensibility proving an ideal complement. The supporting ranks are enlivened by Nicholas Papademetriou and Frank Shanahan, both of whom generate uproarious laughs through their intrepid, delightfully unguarded performances.

The production’s visual language is shaped by Merle Leuschner’s set, which capably navigates the play’s spatial requirements, and Bianca De Nicola’s costumes, which neatly delineate character. Together, the two elements inadvertently echo the resourceful aesthetic of regional theatre, conferring a certain lived-in verisimilitude. Holly Nesbitt’s lighting contributes welcome nuance, its selective details lending the stage visual depth. The sound design, however, proves a notable shortcoming—its lack of energy frequently undermines the production’s momentum, leaving it feeling less dynamic than the material demands.

To observe that a woman possesses the right to shape her own life is perhaps to state the obvious, yet the sentiment bears repeating. In Stage Kiss, we encounter a woman who does precisely that—choosing to be artist, mother, wife, and lover, often in uneasy succession. Where conventional parlance would accuse her of trying to “have it all,” the play instead presents her simply sampling what is on offer, fumbling through each decision, and making mistakes with disarming regularity. In a culture saturated with glossy, unattainable ideals of achievement, watching her flawed navigation proves a far more honest—and surprisingly inspiring—spectacle.

www.newtheatre.org.au