Tag Archives: musical

Review: Dirty Rotten Scoundrels (Hayes Theatre)

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Venue: Hayes Theatre Co (Potts Point NSW), May 22 – Jun 21, 2026 | Riverside (Parramatta NSW), Jun 25 – 28, 2026
Book: Jeffrey Lane
Music and Lyrics: David Yazbek
Director: Rebecca McNamee
Cast: Oliver Clisdell, Blake Erickson, Emma Feliciano, Brendan Godwin, Madelene Kirkwood, Scarlet Lindsay, Kristina McNamara, Aurélie Roque, Jordan Shea, Christopher Tendai, Rowan Witt
Images by John McCrae

Theatre review
Lawrence and Freddy, kindred spirits in the art of the swindle, prey upon wealthy women with motives that extend well beyond the merely pecuniary. Pride—arguably the more potent fuel for their elaborate deceptions—renders their eventual collision not merely probable but structurally inevitable.

Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, the 2004 musical comedy adapted from the 1988 film, promises unalloyed frivolity, and its libretto brims with comic invention. Yet under Rebecca McNamee’s direction, the production does not consistently translate that potential into theatrical life; a certain vital spark remains stubbornly elusive. Despite Dylan Pollard’s buoyant musical direction and Cameron Boxall’s vigorous choreography, an unmistakable deficit of chemistry among the principals keeps the enterprise earthbound.

Blake Erickson’s Lawrence possesses the requisite savoir-faire, and Rowan Witt’s Freddy exerts a roguish appeal, but their pairing never achieves that alchemical synergy whereby the whole transcends its constituent parts. Kristina McNamara, as Christine—the narrative’s ostensible mark and emotional fulcrum—invests her performance with admirable precision and intensity, yet the production retains a curiously restrained, almost buttoned-up quality that sits at odds with the material’s inherent vulgarian exuberance.

Visually, the production fares considerably better. Soham Apte’s set design emerges as a genuine asset, importing glamour and a welcome sense of theatrical fantasy to the proceedings. James Wallis’s lighting proves most compelling when it abandons restraint for something more operatically bold. Angelina Daniel’s costumes, by contrast, are inconsistently realized: certain pieces achieve a polished, character-defining flair, while others land with an unfortunate visual discord.

What proves most striking about Dirty Rotten Scoundrels is its moral architecture—or rather, the conspicuous absence of one. The narrative does not merely tolerate its protagonists’ ethical bankruptcy; it actively celebrates their cunning. One might read in this a particularly American strain of cultural logic: the conflation of charisma with virtue, of success with moral license. The musical’s gleeful amorality invites a broader reflection on a society increasingly inclined to reward performance over principle—a trajectory, one observes from current state of affairs in the USA, that leads only to diminishing returns. 

www.hayestheatre.com.au | www.instagram.com/redfernlane

Review: Sonder (Old Fitz Theatre)

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Venue: Old Fitzroy Theatre (Woolloomooloo NSW), May 15 – 23, 2026
Book & Lyrics: Riki Lindsey
Music: Mitchell Sloan
Director: Alexander Berlage
Cast: Riki Lindsey
Images by Jessie Obialor

Theatre review
Romeo wrestles with existence and desire alike; as a gay Māori man, he must continually authenticate himself—to his community, and to his own fractured sense of self—demanding recognition of his validity and worth. Sonder, a sixty-minute solo musical, renders this pilgrimage toward wholeness in lyrical, densely autobiographical terms. Conceived by Riki Lindsey, who authors both book and lyrics, the work situates its protagonist at the volatile crossroads of multiple prejudices, tracing an arc of empowerment that culminates in his reclamation of warrior rituals and the Indigenous martial discipline of Mau Rākau.

There is, undeniably, an authentic emotional core here; Lindsey draws from lived experience with an integrity that prevents the material from ever feeling false. Yet truthfulness and dramatic sophistication are not synonymous. While the revelations possess genuine depth, their articulation remains disappointingly uncomplicated—descriptions that tread familiar ground without excavating further, a narrative voice that too often settles for the pedestrian rather than the piercing. The piece knows what it wishes to say, but not always how to bring complexity or inspiration to what it is saying.

Mitchell Sloan’s score compounds this predicament. His electronic compositions pulse with an urgent, driving rhythm, yet that propulsiveness rarely penetrates beneath the surface. The music gestures at intensity without achieving intimacy; it keeps us alert but never truly implicated, underscoring the obvious rather than illuminating the obscured.

Visually, Alexander Berlage—who also assumes duties as set and lighting designer—constructs an arresting world. Taking his conceit from the image of a shattered mirror, he erects towering shards of reflective metallica that ascend and descend with choreographic precision, functioning at times as surrogate ensemble. The effect is undeniably ravishing, but ravishment is not the same as communion. Over the hour, the gleaming surfaces begin to feel less like an invitation and more like a barrier; the atmosphere grows chilly, and we find ourselves drifting from the narrative orbit, admiring the architecture while our emotional engagement steadily atrophies.

As performer, Lindsey carries the entire edifice with a gravity that occasionally buckles under its own weight. The work’s absolute renunciation of humour, its unrelenting earnestness, risks transfiguring a story of self-possession into something resembling self-absorption. Without tonal modulation, the struggle for authenticity begins to feel hermetically sealed, a private ordeal displayed rather than a shared crisis opened to the audience.

Sonder bathes itself in luminous beauty, yet that very radiance seems designed to dazzle rather than disclose. We remain outsiders, permitted to observe, even to marvel, but never to enter. Curiosity is kindled; emotional investment is not.

www.oldfitztheatre.com.au | www.instagram.com/berlage.andco

Review: Ride The Cyclone (Eternity Playhouse)

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Venue: Eternity Playhouse (Darlinghurst NSW), May 14 – 30, 2026
Book, Music & Lyrics: Jacob Richmond & Brooke Maxwell
Director: Kris Sergi
Cast: Brock Cramond, Riley Druce, Liam Faulkner-Dimond, Michael Haratzis, Kayla Ingle-Olson, Kavisha Karunarathna, Natalie Patterson
Images by Izzy Sergi

Theatre review
In a liminal purgatory, six teenagers compete in a macabre talent show for the singular prize of resurrection. *Ride the Cyclone*, the 2008 musical by Jacob Richmond and Brooke Maxwell, purports to meditate on existential meaning, yet its philosophical inquiry remains largely superficial. The score offers moderate pleasures, and the characters possess intermittent charm, but the work never achieves the emotional gravity its premise demands. Though consistently amusing, the humour too often settles for the facile rather than the genuinely witty.

Kris Sergi’s direction and choreography inject the production with undeniable verve and exuberance, yet even this kinetic energy cannot fully animate the material’s hollow center. The production’s most compelling achievement lies in Kathryn Smith and Peter Mussared’s scenic design, which masterfully constructs the spatial paradox of a threshold existence—granting this purgatorial realm genuine dimensionality and visual majesty that momentarily transcends the script’s limitations. Sergi and Lexi Willis’s costumes display welcome visual variety, though they would benefit from greater refinement. Tim Hope’s lighting, too, is marked by inconsistency: it lacks the sustained atmospheric density to conjure a convincingly supernatural realm and falls short of the chromatic complexity required for nuanced tonal metamorphoses, yet it nonetheless achieves an arresting memorability at the drama’s most pivotal junctures.

The seven-member cast commits wholeheartedly, their palpable effort to infuse the piece with soulfulness evident even when the material resists such depth. Beyond some genuinely formidable vocal work, individual performances fluctuate between competent and genuinely accomplished. Natalie Patterson emerges as the production’s undeniable anchor; her Jane Doe combines technical precision with an emotional acuity so penetrating it becomes the evening’s most authentic glimpse into genuine pathos.

There are fleeting instants when the production invites a more profound consideration—that perhaps the hereafter offers possibilities more tantalizing than earthly existence itself. As these characters claw desperately toward their former lives, one might paradoxically conclude that while our time on the current plane remains unequivocally precious, what lies beyond may hold its own strange allure. Terrifying though the unknowable remains, it may not, in the end, be something to fear.

www.companyofdramaticarts.com

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: 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: Anastasia (Sydney Lyric Theatre)

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Venue: Sydney Lyric Theatre (Sydney NSW), Apr 7 – Jul 18, 2026
Book: Terrence McNally
Music: Stephen Flaherty
Lyrics: Lynn Ahrens
Director: Darko Tresnjak
Cast: Rhonda Burchmore, Rodney Dobson, Nancye Hayes, Georgina Hopson, Joshua Robson, Robert Tripolino
Images by Jess Busby

Theatre review
Paris, 1927. The Dowager Empress Romanov languishes in aristocratic exile, her imperial dreams finally extinguished after decades of yearning for a granddaughter presumed lost to the Bolshevik firing squads. When a young woman emerges from revolutionary Russia claiming—perhaps mendaciously, perhaps miraculously—to be the sole surviving heir of the defunct dynasty, the stage is set for a reckoning that is as much psychological as political.

Anastasia, the 2016 Broadway confection adapted from its animated predecessor, arrives freighted with expectations of cloying sentimentality—the inevitable collision of cartoon whimsy and theatrical spectacle. Yet under Darko Tresnjak’s discerning direction, with a book by the late Terrence McNally, the production confounds such prejudices. Stephen Flaherty and Lynn Ahrens’s score may hew to the melodic conventions of the Great White Way, eschewing avant-garde experimentation for accessible romanticism, but the storytelling itself exhibits a gratifying intellectual seriousness. Alexander Dodge’s sumptuous set design and Aaron Rhyme’s innovative video projections satisfy the visual appetites of contemporary audiences, yet the narrative never panders, never traffics in theatrical sleight-of-hand to manipulate easy emotions. The result is a work of genuine dramatic substance artfully disguised as frivolous entertainment—subversion through sophistication.

This Australian mounting further distinguishes itself through an exemplary ensemble. Georgina Hopson, in the title role, delivers vocal performances of crystalline precision while suffusing her characterization with a soulful gravity that compels genuine emotional investment rather than passive spectatorship. As her suitor and conspirator Dmitry, Robert Tripolino combines rakish charm with choreographic crispness, rendering the role with charismatic authority. Particularly compelling is Joshua Robson’s Gleb, the Bolshevik antagonist; his portrayal plumbs unexpected emotional depths, transforming what might have been mere villainy into a meditation on ideological fanaticism and human cost. The production’s aesthetic ambitions reach their apotheosis in a second-act interpolation of Swan Lake, performed with breathtaking technical prowess by Sophia Bae, Davis Giotopoulos Moore, and Keian Langdon—a sequence that temporarily suspends the narrative to achieve something approaching pure visual poetry.

The production’s ultimate triumph lies in its implicit rebuke to the condescension that permeates so-called “family entertainment.” Where creators routinely infantilize their audiences and shield younger viewers from life’s harsher truths, Anastasia proceeds from the radical premise that children—and adults—possess the capacity to apprehend darkness, loss, and historical trauma. The postponement of such reckonings serves neither art nor audience; rather, it produces cultural artifacts that mistake triviality for accessibility. In refusing this calculus, Anastasia achieves what the best popular art has always aspired to: the transformation of painful history into transcendent beauty, without sacrificing either truth or wonder.

www.anastasiathemusical.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: Phantom Of The Opera (Opera Australia)

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Venue: Handa Opera on Sydney Harbour (Sydney NSW), Mar 27 – May 3, 2026
Book: Richard Stilgoe, Andrew Lloyd Webber (based on the novel by Gaston Leroux)
Music: Andrew Lloyd Webber
Lyrics: Charles Hart
Director: Simon Phillips
Cast: Melody Beck, Daniel Belle, Brent Hill, Debora Krizak, Michael Lampard, Amy Manford, Jayme Jo Massoud, Giuseppe Grech, Martin Crewes, Darcy Carroll, Andrew Dunne, Jarrod Draper, Jake Lyle, Lachlan O’Brien, Daniel Tambasco, Raphael Wong
Images by Hamilton Lund

Theatre review
It is Christine who possesses the talent, yet in The Phantom of the Opera, her destiny remains perpetually subject to the machinations of theatre owners, a vicomte, and a spectre. Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical adaptation turns forty this year, and while its signature numbers still soar with a kind of transcendental bombast, the narrative itself has only grown more intractable with time—more difficult to admire, and certainly more difficult to love.

Director Simon Phillips offers a stylistic refresh that leans into the show’s signature kitsch, yet does little to render the story palatable for contemporary audiences. Set and costume designer Gabriela Tylesova injects vibrancy and grandiosity into the staging, while Nick Schlieper’s lighting conjures a melodrama commensurate with the heightened emotional register of the score. Guy Simpson’s musical supervision supplies the requisite intensity, capturing the ear with its unrelenting theatrical force. Less successful are the few video projections, which lapse into a digital garishness that even the production’s embrace of deliberate artifice cannot excuse.

As Christine, Amy Manford strikes a suitably delicate figure, commendable for conjuring flickers of strength within a character painfully starved of autonomy. Jake Lyle brings a convincingly tormented quality to the Phantom, while Jarrod Draper cuts an unmistakably dashing figure as Raoul, the Vicomte de Chagny.

In the world of The Phantom of the Opera, misery proves the true universal—a fitting consequence, perhaps, of the patriarchal hegemonies that structure its every interaction. Whether one is behind the scenes pulling strings or centre stage in the spotlight, satisfaction remains elusive. The struggle for power yields only its accumulation by a few, yet the broader exercise of domination and subjugation yields nothing, in the end, but agony.

www.opera.org.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