Tag Archives: drama

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: Goodnight Sweet Prince (Old Fitz Theatre)

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Venue: Old Fitzroy Theatre (Woolloomooloo NSW), Jul 31 – Aug 15, 2026
Playwright: William Shakespeare (an adaption of Hamlet by Liesel Badorrek, Raj Labade, Jack Twelvetree)
Director: Liesel Badorrek
Cast: Raj Labade, Jack Twelvetree
Images by Campbell Parsons

Theatre review
Goodnight Sweet Prince offers a seventy-minute distillation of Hamlet, gathering the play’s most searing moments of introspection into a concentrated portrait of psychological unravelling. Yet in privileging the prince’s interiority, the adaptation strips away Shakespeare’s chiaroscuro—the interplay of levity and darkness, of courtly intrigue and metaphysical dread—leaving behind something closer to a single-note meditation on grief.

Liesel Badorrek’s direction sustains a formidable emotional pitch, executed with considerable polish. The result, however, is a production that feels curiously remote: relentlessly intense yet strangely unaffecting, as though the audience were observing anguish through reinforced glass.

Keerthi Subramanyam’s set design finds poetry in ruin. Drawing on the internal dilapidation of Shakespeare’s characters, the staging evokes decay with arresting beauty—flickers of faded grandeur and decadent ornamentation lending the production a visual richness that partially compensates for its emotional austerity.

Verity Hampson’s lighting is exuberantly theatrical, responding to the text’s most dramatic registers with bold, heightened imagery. Ross Johnston’s sound design is similarly ambitious, tracking every cadence of the abridged script with almost forensic attention. The score works so diligently to underscore each emotional beat that it threatens to become a co-narrator, at times articulating as much of the story as the words themselves.

Raj Labade brings formidable concentration and raw feeling to the title role; his Hamlet is never less than utterly committed. Yet the compression of the text ultimately estranges us from the very suffering it seeks to dramatise. We recognise the authenticity of the anguish without being invited to share it. Jack Twelvetree moves with remarkable ease between Horatio and an array of supporting characters, his versatility shining through in sharply differentiated performances that lend the production welcome breadth and texture.

There is, finally, the question of relevance. It grows increasingly difficult to locate our sympathies within the precincts of royalty; the historical convention of identifying with kings and queens now feels almost exotic. Suffering may be universal, but our compassion need not be indiscriminate. Perhaps there is a quiet liberation in withholding our empathy from those whose privilege has been maintained, across generations, at the cost of so many others’ disadvantage.

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

Review: Bennelong In London (Sydney Theatre Company)

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Venue: Wharf 1 Sydney Theatre Company (Walsh Bay NSW), Jul 18 – Aug 16, 2026
Playwright: Jane Harrison
Director: Ian Michael
Cast: Googoorewon Knox, Guy Simon
Images by Daniel Boud

Theatre review
An actor preparing to audition for the role of Bennelong—that celebrated Aboriginal diplomat from the turbulent dawn of colonisation—finds himself doing more than rehearsing lines. In the quiet of his living room, he summons the historical figure into startling, flesh-and-blood existence. What follows is a conversation across centuries: the ancestor clarifying his legacy, the actor grappling to comprehend it from a vantage point more than two hundred years removed.

Jane Harrison’s Bennelong in London is a work of remarkable intellectual architecture—thoroughly researched, astutely considered—yet it never sacrifices emotional immediacy for scholarly rigour. From a contemporary Aboriginal perspective, it interrogates Aboriginality and colonialism with clear-eyed acknowledgment of the endlessly complex entanglements that define life on colonised Indigenous lands. The play holds space for contradiction: the difficulty of honouring the past while pressing forward into the present, all the while remaining unflinching about the injustices visited upon this country’s rightful custodians. Though its themes run deep and serious, the work brims with humour, much of it arising from the friction between two men separated by epochs yet thrown together in intimate proximity.

Director Ian Michael handles this tonal balancing with supreme deftness, blending levity and sorrow in an exploration of identity and legacy that speaks as urgently to First Nations peoples today as it does to settlers. The emotional texture of the storytelling finds especially potent expression in James Peter Brown’s music, whether threading subtly beneath the action or rising to prominence as a centrepiece of the staging. Brown’s compositions pull the audience deep into the work’s intense sentimentality, rendering abstract historical grief into something viscerally moving.

Trent Suidgeest’s lighting design carries us fluidly between realism and the fantastical, lending credibility to whichever psychological territory the play chooses to inhabit, while discovering unexpected beauty in the theatrical transformation of an otherwise ordinary domestic space. Emma White’s set ingeniously weaves native flora into a contemporary living room, quietly signalling the duality embedded in everyday life for those negotiating Indigeneity amid persistent colonising forces. Her costumes, by contrast, adopt a more straightforward approach—two men from different centuries, simply dressed, simply meeting.

Googoorewon Knox is endlessly likeable as Bennelong, his charisma matched by a musicality that proves invaluable whenever the performance shifts into more traditional registers. Some of his storytelling occasionally lacks vividness—certain historical details risk being lost in the telling—yet the power of his ancestral invocation remains beyond question. Equally spirited is Guy Simon as the modern-day Aboriginal man seeking a history that is at once intimately personal and consequentially vast. The grace with which Simon pivots between lightness and gravity throughout the piece is genuinely astonishing, and his ability to bring such unguarded earnestness to this vital story feels especially precious in these cynical times.

Like every colonised being, Bennelong could only do his best within circumstances engineered for destruction. We might hope to resist with heroism, or at least to survive with grace, but the truth is more humbling: the everyday negotiations with pervasive, malicious systems of exploitation mean we will often fall short. Bennelong was far from perfect, yet we can see precisely why—and we can carry that understanding forward as inspiration, strengthening how we regard ourselves and one another in the ongoing, unfinished work of decolonisation.

www.sydneytheatre.com.au

Review: Dealing With Clair (Old Fitz Theatre)

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Venue: Old Fitzroy Theatre (Woolloomooloo NSW), Jul 10 – 25, 2026
Playwright: Martin Crimp
Director: Harry Reid
Cast: Arkia Ashraf, Bayley Prendergast, Daniel Fletcher, Jade Fuda, Olivia Hall-Smith, Talia Benatar
Images by Robert Miniter

Theatre review
It is 1986, and Clair is an ambitious young woman navigating London’s cutthroat real estate market, hell-bent on carving out a better life for herself. While showing a property, she encounters James, a man of apparent means who claims he is ready to buy—yet something about him lingers just beyond the edge of trust. Martin Crimp’s Dealing with Clair is rooted in a true story that once dominated British headlines, written for an audience who lived through its cultural aftershocks. Four decades later, and half a world away, the play still coheres for audiences who know nothing of the original scandal, though many of its finer social nuances inevitably fade in transit.

Director Harry Reid renders the central narrative lucid and gripping; the psychological chess match between Clair and James remains genuinely compelling. It is the surrounding scenes, however, that falter. Supporting characters appear designed to refract the social climate of the era, yet much of that commentary dissipates before it can land.

Daniel Fletcher delivers a superbly cunning James, skirting the line between earnest charm and quiet menace to create a villain who is both repellent and comprehensible. We despise him, yet we fully understand how Clair could be so thoroughly undone. Opposite him, Olivia Hall-Smith gives Clair a bright, infectious gregariousness that makes her ambition visible and visceral; we see the hunger for success that drives her to take reckless risks. Hall-Smith also threads a subtle innocence through the performance, a quiet suggestion of how modern capitalism preys upon the young, extracting sacrifices they could never have imagined.

Visually, the production is modest but serviceable. Soham Apte’s set is nimble and efficient, shifting locations without the drag of scene changes. Larisha Dowson-Taylor’s costumes largely succeed in transporting us back in time, though the supporting cast could use sharper visual signifiers to clarify who they represent within social dynamics of the time. Izzy Morrissey’s lighting deftly pivots between naturalism and heightened drama, lending the production an occasional, welcome jolt of theatrical intensity. The sound design, credited to Reid, is notably spare; a more aggressive sonic landscape would have done much to amplify the tension inherent in this disturbing tale.

Forty years on, one might hope that workplaces have grown safer for women, yet the truth is that most professional environments were built by and for men. We have spent decades retrofitting these spaces to accommodate broader participation, but we remain trapped in the architecture of an unjust foundation. Problems will continue to surface, and we will be forced to address each new iteration as it arises—because tearing it all down and starting over, it seems, remains beyond our reach.

www.oldfitztheatre.com.au | www.instagram.com/irregularprogramming.inc

Review: Thirty-Six (Qtopia)

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Venue: Qtopia (Darlinghurst NSW), Jul 8 – 18, 2026
Playwrights: Jo Clifford, Bayley Turner
Director: Kitan Petkovski
Cast: Bayley Turner
Images by Andrew Kim

Theatre review
Turning thirty-five might ordinarily invite a quiet celebration, but for Bayley Turner, the milestone carries a heavier shadow. The spectre of that oft-cited, entirely unsubstantiated statistic—that trans women seldom live beyond thirty-five—looms over her birthday, colouring the occasion with an unavoidable gravity. Yet the anxieties it stirs are hardly spectral alone; they are tethered to the tangible hardships of trans existence, the material and psychological tolls that accumulate in a world still reluctant to make room.

For all the generations of trans people who have lived, loved, and endured before us, their voices have rarely been granted the platforms or the permanence to offer those who follow something solid to hold onto—reference points, roadmaps, or simply the comfort of being understood. Thirty-Six, the one-woman play Turner has created with her seventy-five-year-old mentor Jo Clifford, arrives as something rare: an intergenerational conversation rendered in performance, giving shape to the sorrow and fear, but also the unexpected joy and stubborn inspiration, of living openly as trans in an era of unprecedented visibility. The work is unflinching in its honesty, and both creators have evidently plumbed its ideas with a depth that leaves few difficult truths unexamined.

If the purpose of art is to haul what remains unsaid into the light, then Thirty-Six is an undeniably significant achievement. Where it falters is in its theatrical imagination: the writing, for all its emotional intelligence, could sit almost as comfortably on the page as it does on the stage. It lacks the particular immediacy that distinguishes drama from literature—those irreplaceable collisions of body, voice, and space that demand live performance.

Fortunately, director Kitan Petkovski intervenes with ingenuity, finding visual textures to animate the monologue and expanding the hour-long staging into something that nearly matches the words in captivation. Spencer Herd’s lighting bathes the space in a warm, flattering glow that never quite lets us forget the melancholy threading beneath; it is an invitation into sentiment without surrendering to it. Aron Murray’s video projections lend variety to the visual landscape, while Jack Burmeister’s score moves nimbly between uplift and sombreness, calibrating atmosphere with a deft hand.

As performer, Turner is a compelling presence—effortlessly charismatic, possessed of a confidence that keeps the audience held close throughout. There is an ease to her delivery that reassures, even if one senses she is capable of still greater dramatic complexity given more demanding material.

The myth of the thirty-five-year lifespan may be exactly that, but the reality it gestures toward is no fiction. Without stable housing, secure employment, adequate healthcare, and communities that sustain rather than isolate, trans lives are routinely foreshortened—made not only harder but often less fully lived. For as long as the standards of care and dignity remain so starkly divided between cis and trans existence, works like Thirty-Six that insist on naming these disparities will remain not merely welcome, but essential.

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

Review: Doubt: A Parable (Sydney Theatre Company)

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Venue: Roslyn Packer Theatre (Sydney NSW), Jun 30 – Aug 2, 2026
Playwright: John Patrick Shanley
Director: Marion Potts
Cast: Zindzi Okenyo, Shannen Alyce Quan, Pamela Rabe, Sam Reid
Images by Prudence Upton

Theatre review
Sister Aloysius is convinced that Father Flynn has engaged in inappropriate conduct with at least one student at St. Nicholas Church School, and she is determined to see him removed. When Doubt: A Parable by John Patrick Shanley premiered in 2004, revelations of sexual abuse and institutional cover-ups within the Catholic Church were dominating headlines around the world. Two decades later, while public attention has shifted to other forms of moral and political failure, the play continues to resonate with an alarming disquiet. Its enduring power lies not only in the persistence of abuse by those in authority, but in the unsettling ease with which certainty is formed without proof, and belief sustained in the absence of evidence.

Under Marion Potts’s direction, however, the production resists becoming an overtly political reading. Instead, it returns the play to its theatrical core: a taut, claustrophobic drama driven by tension, moral ambiguity, and competing convictions. The result is gripping from start to finish, sustaining an atmosphere of mounting unease that keeps the audience in a constant state of uncertainty.

The performances are superb across the board. Pamela Rabe’s Sister Aloysius is steely and unyielding, her severity edged with conviction that is as compelling as it is unsettling. Sam Reid brings a volatile emotional interior to Father Flynn, carefully calibrating warmth and defensiveness in a way that keeps his guilt or innocence deliberately opaque. There is an implied undercurrent of homophobia in the accusations against the priest, and Reid navigates his subplot of resistance with remarkable nuance and power.

As Sister James, Shannen Alyce Quan astonishes with her precision in a complex role that demands multiple shifts in allegiance; she consistently depicts heightened psychological transformations while maintaining a believable naturalism that renders an extremely challenging part utterly convincing. Zindzi Okenyo is unforgettable as Mrs. Muller, bringing fierce tenacity and genuine spirit to this intense production.

Design elements are equally accomplished. Bob Cousin’s set is perfectly proportioned, showcasing austere locations in ways that are as dramaturgically sound as they are visually striking, balancing narrative necessity with a refined sense of theatricality. Damien Cooper’s lighting is subtly rendered, never overreaching in a play that demands visual restraint. Jessica Dunn’s music is a particular highlight; each interlude enhances the emotive qualities of the visceral storytelling, most impressively through the splendid incorporation of live singing by the cast.

It has been nearly two years since seventy-seven million Americans voted to return Donald Trump to the presidency. Despite extensive evidence of misconduct and conviction on multiple felony counts, his political support has remained largely intact, sustained by narratives that persist in defiance of fact. The details differ, but the underlying mechanism feels familiar: certainty without verification, belief hardened against contradiction. In that sense, Doubt remains less a period piece than an unnervingly contemporary one, reflecting how easily blind faith can override evidence, and how costly that substitution can be.

www.sydneytheatre.com.au

Review: First, Do No Harm (KXT on Broadway)

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Venue: KXT on Broadway (Ultimo NSW), Jun 24 – Jul 4, 2026
Playwright: Grace Malouf
Director: Charley Allanah, Grace Malouf
Cast: Kate Bookallil, Barry French, Richard Hilliar, Josh Merten, Shan-Ree Tan
Images by Laura Elaine

Theatre review
Alexei is an Olympic hopeful whose swimming career has begun to falter at just nineteen years of age. He harbours a secret that is compromising his athletic performance, yet revealing it would invite controversy of the most personal kind. As the burden of concealment becomes unbearable, the truth can no longer remain hidden.

Grace Malouf’s First, Do No Harm transcends its ostensible sporting milieu to interrogate a far more fundamental proposition: the sovereignty of the body itself. The drama excavates the reverberations of a single individual’s corporeal self-determination, tracing how such a decision propagates through the social fabric with disquieting complexity. Malouf’s dramatic structure may lack formal daring, yet it grips with undeniable force; what it sacrifices in stylistic flair, it repays in intellectual and emotional depth. The work avoids theatrical showmanship, but its careful thought is unmistakable, emerging from an unflinching engagement with a subject that remains, in contemporary discourse, not only relevant but urgent.

Co-directed by Malouf and Charley Allanah, the production forgoes imaginative spectacle for an almost austere directness—an approach that, rather than diminishing the work, forges an uncommon intimacy with its audience, engaging both intellect and affect with precision. The staging distills narrative to its essential elements; this reduction, though occasionally risking oversimplification, ultimately crystallises the play’s conceptual preoccupations with remarkable efficacy.

Holden Jane Cohle’s production design requires more work to invite visual interest, while Theodore Carroll’s lighting offers occasional moments of striking inventiveness, even if such flourishes are used sparingly. Ellie Wilson’s sound design is likewise understated, but it rises effectively to the demands of the drama at key emotional moments.

Josh Merten inhabits Alexei with a passion that never tips into histrionics, grounding an ostensibly implausible psychological condition in emotional authenticity. His performance renders the extraordinary not merely credible but viscerally immediate. Richard Hilliar, as Alexei’s father and villain of the piece, Robert, constructs a figure of compelling contradiction—simultaneously antagonistic and vulnerable, comprehensible yet beyond easy absolution. Kate Bookallil, Barry French, and Shan-Ree Tan complete the ensemble with commendable proficiency.

The ordeal Alexei endures may be deeply unsettling, yet the play insists on a challenging idea: however objectionable his desires seem, only he has the right to decide. First, Do No Harm shows us how much we tend to believe that our own views entitle us to govern how others live. The production offers a vital reminder that the most durable achievement of democratic life lies not in consensus, but in our mutual tolerance—the willingness to allow one another the liberty to inhabit our own lives.

www.kingsxtheatre.com

Review: House Of Rot (Hayes Theatre)

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Venue: Hayes Theatre Co (Potts Point NSW), Jun 23 – 28, 2026
Director: Dino Dimitriadis
Cast: Paul Capsis, Adam Noviello, with Victoria Falconer
Images by Gianna Rizzo

Theatre review
Much like the women of the celebrated documentary Grey Gardens, Addy and their parental counterpart exist in a state of mutual captivity—inseparable, yet hardly serene. House of Rot unfolds principally through torch songs and standards drawn from the past century, with dialogue kept to a bare minimum.

Though its form is fundamentally cabaret, its theatrical scope renders it far more substantial than the category typically permits—a distinction owing much to Leila Enright’s economically incisive dramaturgy. Brockman’s lighting, in particular, demands recognition for the artistic elevation it brings; consistently mesmerising, it possesses the rare capacity to arrest time itself—an effect crucial to a narrative about two people locked in a vicious cycle of tender devotion and bitter dependency. We behold them frozen, unable to advance, yet we are compelled to discern whatever sublimity resides in their stasis.

Victoria Falconer’s musical direction harnesses the transcendental power of song, reshaping familiar numbers into freshly romantic configurations that cohere into a unified whole. The result is a work that either articulates a meaningful narrative—subject to each spectator’s personal interpretation—or, at minimum, facilitates a visceral experience that proves both persuasive and resonant, propelled by an unmistakable sense of deliberate intention. Falconer remains onstage throughout, providing flawless accompaniment while also delivering the show’s prologue and epilogue.

Paul Capsis inhabits the parental figure with a baroque sensibility, wielding a singular fusion of the macabre and the glamorous. The effect is not merely visually arresting but emotionally penetrating; Capsis conveys instantaneous gravitas through every gesture and saunter, even when the rational mind struggles to assign immediate meaning to these portrayals. Such impact derives not solely from the visual plane, but from vocal capacities now the stuff of legend—enthralling precisely because of their steadfast refusal of conventional prettiness. Adam Noviello, though not yet possessing the seasoned depth to fully match a living legend, nevertheless sings with comparable skill, albeit in a wildly divergent register.

Nicol & Ford’s costumes distil the essence of the Edies into a contemporary idiom, evoking eroded wealth, regrettable choices, and unvarnished beauty to ensure we fall in love with these characters anew. Dino Dimitriadis’s direction does more than retell the saga of entwined aristocratic Americans; by placing Capsis and Noviello in parallel, Dimitriadis transposes the Grey Gardens mythology into a narrative of intergenerational queerness—one that speaks to the inheritance of trauma alongside more wondrous bequests.

House of Rot interrogates how a community ought to move forward in a world that, while ostensibly growing more accommodating, also seems to demand the shedding of cultural particularities. It aches for queer people to claim a luminous future, yet warns with a tremor in its voice that we must not surrender every trait that makes us who we are—must not melt ourselves down to be palatable to those who have never once, not for a single heartbeat, considered loosening their grip on power. To do so would be to lose not merely our history, but the very pulse of what makes us consequential and irreplaceable.

www.hayestheatre.com.au | www.greendoortheatrecompany.com

Review: Shooting Hedda Gabler (Seymour Centre)

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Venue: Seymour Centre (Chippendale NSW), Jun 11 – 27, 2026
Playwright: Nina Segal
Director: Monica Sayers
Cast: Jane Angharad, Jennifer Rani, James Smithers, Alpha Sylla, Lib Campbell, Matthew Abotomey 
Images by Phil Erbacher

Theatre review
In Nina Segal’s Shooting Hedda Gabler, a Hollywood actor arrives in Norway to work beneath a film director celebrated as both visionary and enfant terrible. The parallel is deliberate: Segal subjects her protagonist to the same suffocating constraints that bind Ibsen’s heroine, collapsing the distance between the nineteenth century and our own to expose how tenaciously misogyny endures. Yet for all its darkness, the play is flecked with mordant wit, its sophistication rendering the medicine palatable without diluting its potency.

Under Monica Sayers’s direction, the production sustains a precarious equilibrium between entertainment and gravitas, ensuring its poignancy commands full attention. James Smithers’s set design achieves a marvellous synthesis of visual splendour and dramatic utility, while Charlotte Savva’s costumes evoke a distinctly Scandinavian restraint—elegant, immaculate, severe in their understatement. Travis Kecek’s lighting and Anthony MacDermott’s music operate with similar Nordic coolness, so subtly calibrated that one barely registers their presence until they tighten, scene by scene, an almost casual noose of foreboding.

Jennifer Rani, as the leading lady, navigates her character’s emotional trajectory with forensic precision, never permitting ambiguity about where she stands in her arc. James Smithers (doubling as the film director) imbues the despicable auteur with a nuanced malevolence that is all the more chilling for its theatrical relish—he leaves the audience no aperture through which to excuse his behaviour, yet remains magnetically watchable. Lib Campbell and Matthew Abotomey furnish the production with its most indelible comic textures, their performances audacious and outrageously inventive, offering necessary respite from the narrative’s unrelenting brutality.

The women of Shooting Hedda Gabler enjoy freedoms of expression unimaginable to the 1890s characters they portray, yet Segal suggests that such liberties are largely cosmetic. We may speak our minds and gesture at agency, but the architecture beneath— the structural mechanisms that shape female destiny—remains obstinately intact, fiercely committed to our subjugation. The play’s sharpest insight lies here: in the cruel illusion that progress has occurred when, in fact, the machinery has simply learned to disguise itself.

www.seymourcentre.com | www.secrethouse.com.au

Review: W (Old Fitz Theatre)

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Venue: Old Fitzroy Theatre (Woolloomooloo NSW), May 29 – Jun 14, 2026
Playwright: Madelaine Nunn
Director: Rachel Chant
Cast: Danielle Cormack, Celeste Cortes-Davis, Edyll Ismail, Ally Morgan, Shannon Ryan, Grace Smibert
Images by Phil Erbacher

Theatre review
In Madelaine Nunn’s W, an elite women’s football team hurtles toward the season finals, yet the play’s dramatic momentum is diffused rather than concentrated. Between coach Sue and five players, our attention is parcelled out too sparingly; while team captain Rosie receives marginally more narrative real estate, her story never quite becomes the play’s anchoring centre. The result is a dramatic architecture that feels structurally tentative—compelling in its parts, yet uncertain of its whole.

What holds the production together is Rachel Chant’s astute direction. She renders each character with such precision and emotional texture that the ensemble transcends the script’s fractured architecture, making the evening dramaturgically coherent and, for the most part, gripping. Still, there is something irreducibly splintered about the writing itself—an episodic restlessness that prevents the work from achieving the satisfying unity it intermittently promises.

Among the cast, Shannon Ryan delivers a performance of unwavering commitment as Rosie, yet her isolation is palpable; she generates little chemistry with her fellow players, and that disconnection quietly erodes the production’s emotional foundation. Danielle Cormack, by contrast, thrives as Sue, crafting a character of terrific vitality—by turns hilarious and deeply, authentically felt. The remainder of the ensemble matches her standard with consistent excellence, balancing humour and emotional depth while executing Poppy Lynch’s movement direction with an athletic rigour that lends the staging a genuine physical exhilaration.

The design elements are equally accomplished. Meg Anderson’s set and Aloma Barnes Siraswar’s costumes combine visual vibrancy with meticulous detail, while Luna Yuet Yee Ng’s lighting is calibrated with exquisite sensitivity, seizing every opportunity for theatrical flourish and transforming it into something genuinely beautiful. Clare Hennessy’s sound design deepens the atmosphere at every turn, enriching the production’s dramatic texture without ever overwhelming it.

The play arrives at a cultural moment when many still refuse to acknowledge the insidious depth of everyday sexism; the marginalisation of women’s sport renders that denial impossible. Curiously, W never names misogyny outright, yet the additional labour these women endure to pursue their passion speaks with unmistakable eloquence. In the end, W tackles the extra miles women must run—but stops just short of naming the finish line they are forbidden to cross.

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