Tag Archives: play

Review: How My Light Is Spent (KXT on Broadway)

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Venue: KXT on Broadway (Ultimo NSW), Sep 11 – 26, 2026
Playwright: Alan Harris
Director: Braiden Toko
Cast: Jane Angharad, Renée Billing, Pita Lolohea, Kira McLennan, James Smithers
Images by Robert Catto

Theatre review
Jimmy is 34 and living back at home after the collapse of his marriage, having lost both his wife and daughter. He has found work at a drive-through doughnut shop, but his only genuine source of comfort is a weekly call with a phone sex operator named Kitty. Jimmy rarely speaks about his emotional turmoil, yet it is immediately apparent that he is failing to cope. As parts of his body begin to disappear from sight, Alan Harris offers a poignant allegory for a man slowly fading into oblivion.

How My Light is Spent may find Jimmy at the lowest point of his life, but rather than wallow in despair, it delights in the strange and the whimsical. Its humour is graceful and quietly inventive, maintaining an air of lightness throughout without sacrificing emotional substance. By the time it reaches its conclusion, the play has arrived somewhere unexpectedly moving, giving its eccentricity genuine purpose.

Braiden Toko’s direction wholeheartedly embraces the play’s eccentric spirit while exercising remarkable restraint. Every quirky flourish is handled with a light touch, ensuring the production never feels self-conscious or eager to charm. There is a confidence in its gentleness that becomes deeply captivating, making it a pleasure to watch a work that never insists upon its own cleverness.

That same sophistication extends to the visual design. James Smithers’ set is striking in its remarkably polished execution of simple ideas, creating a world that feels playful without becoming overly decorative. Clare Sheridan’s lighting and Anthony MacDermott’s score are similarly understated, bringing warmth and sensuality with precision and sensitivity. Together they create a theatrical language that is quietly magical, without having to tip into excess.

Smithers also delivers a beautifully judged performance as Jimmy, bringing an essential innocence that makes the character immediately sympathetic. His greatest strength lies in his lightness of touch; by refusing to foreground Jimmy’s suffering, he allows the pain to emerge naturally and all the more powerfully. Jane Angharad gives Kitty an affecting realism, sidestepping the familiar clichés associated with sex workers to create someone grounded, compassionate and entirely believable. Supporting performances from Renée Billing, Pita Lolohea and Kira McLennan provide the production with much of its buoyancy, the trio bringing charisma and creativity, while sustaining the show’s distinctive sense of style.

The beauty of whimsy is its ability to make familiar truths feel newly discovered. By embracing unpredictability, it pushes language, perspective and convention into unexpected places, inviting us to see ordinary experiences through different lenses. Human beings possess boundless imagination, yet so much of adult life demands rigidity, routine and predictability. When confronted with life’s challenges, we often find ourselves repeating the same futile patterns, endlessly beating dead horses. In valuing whimsy, we may find a kind of salvation, beginning with the courage to think, feel and imagine differently.

www.kingsxtheatre.com | www.secrethouse.com.au

Review: Housework (Sydney Theatre Company)

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Venue: Sydney Opera House (Sydney NSW), Sep 5 – Oct 17, 2026
Playwright: Emily Steel
Director: Shannon Rush
Cast: Laurence Boxhall, Franca Lafosse, Indira Naidoo, Johnny Nasser, Emily Taheny, Susie Youssef
Images by Prudence Upton

Theatre review
Emily Steel’s Housework tells the story of the Australian federal government, or more precisely, the messy machinery that keeps our democracy running. Staffers of every rank, members of parliament, frontbench ministers and even the occupant of the nation’s highest office populate its world. Each understands the gravity of their responsibilities and the far-reaching consequences of their decisions, yet none manages to navigate the system with complete dignity or unimpeachable integrity.

Some argue that the system is broken; others contend it was always built to accommodate corruption. Housework is less interested in resolving that debate than in exposing just how pervasive the compromises and backroom dealings have become. Like the proverbial sausage, the business of government is something we would rather not watch being made.

Steel’s play is at its most compelling when it invites us to sit with uncomfortable ethical ambiguities. The plot itself is admittedly predictable, but the questions it raises are anything but simple. Its structure can feel overly straightforward, and its comedy occasionally too restrained, yet Shannon Rush’s direction ensures the production never loses momentum. The pacing is buoyant, the energy infectious, and we remain eager to discover what fresh moral compromise awaits around each corner.

Emily Taheny anchors the production with admirable conviction and clarity as chief of staff Anna, finding a balance between farce and emotional credibility that gives the play its centre of gravity. Susie Youssef brings impeccable comic timing to Ruth, although the character could benefit from greater psychological accuracy. Franca Lafosse is thoroughly enjoyable as the relentlessly upbeat junior staffer Kelly, even if the writing saddles her with an implausible, and irritating, level of naivety. Johnny Nasser is outstanding as Paul, capturing the character’s constant oscillation between decency and opportunism with remarkable nuance.

Ailsa Paterson’s set convincingly evokes the imposing architecture of Australia’s colonial-era government institutions, embodying both their grandeur and their emotional coldness. It is an apt visual metaphor for the bureaucratic culture the play interrogates. At times, however, the performance space feels too expansive for scenes set in supposedly clandestine rooms, and several lengthy exits tip into unintended comedy.

Housework excels at illuminating the flaws embedded within our political system and, by extension, the ways those flaws ripple into everyday Australian life. It offers no easy remedies, nor does it pretend reform is simple. Instead, it insists that honest scrutiny is a necessary first step. Democracy, the play suggests, is sustained not by believing our institutions are clean, but by refusing to look away when they are not.

www.sydneytheatre.com.au | www.statetheatrecompany.com.au

Review: Singapore Spotlight (Sydney Fringe Festival)

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Venue: Qtopia (Darlinghurst NSW), Sep 1 – 5, 2026

The Happier Place
Creator and performer: Jo Tan

Pretty Ugly
Creator and performer: Theo Chen

Theatre review
In The Happier Place, creator-performer Jo Tan inhabits Val, a radio DJ broadcasting from some distant, post-catastrophic future where the populace lives in perpetual dread of “dematerialisation.” On air, Val erupts into hysterical laughter and dispenses an endless torrent of absurdist humour, as though the act of denial itself were the last available bulwark against annihilation. The performance raises an unsettling proposition: that the fortitude required to confront unrelenting horror may be a virtue more honoured in the abstract than actually possessed. Through this lens, Tan’s work interrogates an array of pressing social concerns, including the climate crisis, censorship, mental health, each rendered with the gravity they merit.

Pretty Ugly, by contrast, offers creator Theo Chen centre stage, where he interpolates standards from the musical theatre canon with meditations on romantic failure and the labyrinthine agonies of self-image. The piece traces the insidious alchemy by which feeling unloved transmutes into the conviction of being unlovable; Chen’s pursuit of catharsis through performance proves as intellectually rigorous as it is emotionally disarming. His exploration of queerness is distinctly situated: that of a Gen Z Singaporean equipped with an expansive, theoretically informed understanding of gender and sexuality, yet nevertheless navigating a society whose conservatism remains stubbornly, even aggressively, queerphobic.

As performers, Tan and Chen could scarcely be more dissimilar. Tan is relentless, muscular, tightly bound to the architecture of her script; Chen is elegiac, meandering, orbiting a loosely sketched narrative rather than adhering to one. Yet what unites them, beyond the sheer magnetism of their respective presences, is an unwavering fidelity to honesty. Whether their material is invented or confessional, naturalistic or operatically heightened, both works seem to arrive at an identical terminus: that zone of consciousness where evasion is no longer tenable, and where the only remaining option is to look, however unbearable the sight.

www.singaporespotlight.com

Review: Equus (KXT on Broadway)

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Venue: KXT on Broadway (Ultimo NSW), Aug 21 – Sep 5, 2026
Playwright: Peter Shaffer
Director: Brockman
Cast: Cloud Fernandez-Montoya, Sophie Gregg, Stephen Madsen, Jay-James Moody, Gus Murray, Linda Nicholls-Gidley, Shalamah Tautaiolefue, Ryan Yeates
Images by Daniel Boud

Theatre review
It was in 1973 that Peter Shaffer wrote Equus, the story of 17-year-old Alan Strang, a boy who blinds six horses with a metal spike. At its heart, Equus is a play about desire: where it comes from, how it is shaped, and the destruction that can follow when it is denied. As a gay man born in the early twentieth century, Shaffer was almost certainly drawing, at least in part, on the devastating consequences of harbouring desires deemed socially taboo.

More than half a century later, director Brockman brings the play’s submerged queerness unmistakably to the surface. Where Shaffer had to veil the politics of Equus beneath explorations of religion, psychotherapy and obsession, Brockman’s contemporary interpretation points directly to the machinery of social stigmatisation and the wounds of marginalisation.

The production is as pointed in its message as it is atmospheric in its rendering. Brockman, who also serves as set and lighting designer, uses light to construct a performance space that recalls the stable where the unspeakable occurred, illuminating the action in ways that evoke desire and its eternal companion, brutality. The fluid movement between warm and cold tones mirrors the play’s shifting moral landscape, inviting us to question ideas of sin and transgression when set against the force of human instinct.

Dr Emily Brayshaw’s costumes remain in harmony with the production’s dark visual palette, while introducing subtle variations in colour and texture that keep the stage picture richly alive. Milo Mclaughlin’s sound design establishes a sombre timbre befitting the material’s gravity, though the persistence of his repetitious drone occasionally dulls the audience’s engagement.

Ryan Yeates delivers an admirably naturalistic Alan, bringing a vulnerability that makes the character feel both psychologically complex and undeniably real. He is simultaneously victim and perpetrator, embodying a story that first emerged at the dawn of the gay rights movement in Britain. Opposite him, J. James-Moody gives an extraordinary performance as Dr Dysart. He navigates Shaffer’s dense, philosophical dialogue with remarkable precision, revealing its intricate emotional and intellectual textures without sacrificing clarity. Beyond the cerebral pleasures of his performance, James-Moody is also devastatingly visceral, particularly in moments of profound self-loathing and emotional torment—qualities that become the defining concerns of Equus in 2026.

Equally remarkable is Shalamah Tautaiolefue, who inhabits the various horses throughout the play. Rather than simply anthropomorphising the animals, Tautaiolefue expands the production’s interrogation of taboo to encompass questions of gender, race and body size. Working with movement director Jeremy Lloyd, they create an entirely non-verbal performance of astonishing imagination and beauty, one that remains captivating from the opening moments to the final scene.

Alan has been taught to hate, perhaps unconsciously, but certainly within an Abrahamic tradition that leaves no ambiguity about who and what deserves contempt, and that habitually justifies violence as a form of atonement. His desires curdle into hatred for himself and for the horses; lacking any means to reject or subvert his indoctrination, he follows the only logic available to him, and strikes out at the thing he loves most, in a tragedy about the catastrophic consequences of teaching someone that love itself is sinful.

www.kingsxtheatre.com | www.danielcottier.com.au

Review: The Boys Are Kissing (Qtopia)

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Venue: Qtopia (Darlinghurst NSW), Aug 12 – 29, 2026
Playwright: Zak Zarafshan
Director: Gavin Roach
Cast: Aisling Delahunt, Max Fernandez, Sonya Kerr, Willa King, John Michael Narres, Shab Tavakol
Images by Robert Catto

Theatre review
Amira and Chloe have fled London in search of breathing room, trading cramped city living for a house with a garden where their nine-year-old might roam. The trade-off, as they discover, is steep: the regional school gates prove far less hospitable than the cosmopolitan playgrounds they left behind. As an interracial lesbian couple, they increasingly find themselves at odds with other parents, a tension that Zak Zarafshan mines to brilliant effect in The Boys are Kissing, conjuring moments that veer from the absurdly comic to the quietly devastating. It is a play that feels genuinely of the post-marriage-equality moment: intellectually grounded without being preachy, its moral architecture sturdy enough to propel the narrative yet never so heavy that it drags the storytelling under.

Director Gavin Roach approaches the material with an admirable vigour, infusing the production with an urgency that reminds us queer rights remain a fight rather than a fait accompli. Yet the execution never quite matches the intention, with the production itself lacking the crispness necessary to draw us fully into the story. The cast often appears under-rehearsed, and while there are moments of genuine theatrical delight, their connections to both character and narrative lack sufficient depth. This diminishes not only the gravity of the material, but also the sense of joy and possibility that ultimately lies at its heart.

Raphael Gennusa’s lighting design brings welcome variation and texture to the atmosphere, although some scenes requiring more substantial shifts in location are not transformed quite convincingly enough. Akesiu Poitaha, meanwhile, deserves commendation for an extensive sound design that effectively transports the action beyond the mundane into spaces that feel altogether more evocative.

As queer people, we have long carried the responsibility of making life more bearable for generations of queer people yet to come. Now that it is increasingly common for us to have biological children of our own, the question of what we leave behind—and the kind of world our children will inherit—feels more consequential than ever. Yet the method by which we pursue that legacy need not change dramatically. We need only hold fast to the same principle that has always served us: the simple, unwavering demand for equality.

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

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: Top Silk (Ensemble Theatre)

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Venue: Ensemble Theatre (Kirribilli NSW), Jul 31 – Sep 12, 2026
Playwright: David Williamson
Director: Mark Kilmurry
Cast: Nicholas Brown, Thomas Campbell, Laurence Coy, Rachel Gordon, Samir Nasser, Jamie Oxenbould, Jeremy Waters
Images by Prudence Upton

Theatre review
Jane and Trevor have done very well for themselves as lawyers, yet there comes a moment in every ascent to power when the individual is forced to confront a dilemma that strikes at the very core of their humanity. David Williamson’s 1989 play Top Silk examines the difficult choices people make when ambition collides with conscience, and the personal cost of success when the stakes are impossibly high.

The text itself has not aged with particular grace; its dialogue can feel stilted, its rhythms occasionally dated. Yet director Mark Kilmurry infuses the production with sufficient dramatic tension that the script’s awkwardness recedes, allowing us to focus instead on how these characters navigate their precarious circumstances. The dilemmas they face—compromises between professional duty and moral instinct—still resonate, and Kilmurry ensures they land with genuine force.

Much of the production’s success rests on an excellent ensemble, led by two commanding performances. Rachel Gordon’s Jane is rendered with fierce conviction; she makes her character’s desire to do what she believes is right utterly persuasive, even as she allows us to see the professional integrity being quietly eroded. Nicholas Brown, as Trevor, achieves something equally difficult: he makes each ethical compromise appear not merely reasonable but almost inevitable, and does so without letting his character’s immense privilege obscure his underlying humanity. Together, they generate a compelling chemistry that gives the drama its crackle and the humour its surprising bite.

The design elements serve the production with similar intelligence. Ailsa Paterson’s set accommodates the play’s shifting locations with resourceful economy while still conferring upon the courtroom scenes their requisite sense of grandeur. Kelsey Lee’s lighting navigates a wide spectrum of atmospheric intensity with precision, and Madeleine Picard’s sound design seizes unexpected moments to introduce flourish and theatrical texture.

Society likes to pretend that right and wrong are clearly demarcated, but Top Silk understands that life rarely offers such tidy distinctions. When one is caught in the grey—where there are no convenient blacks and whites—it is not simply a question of what is correct, but of what one is willing to risk. The play asks how much an individual is prepared to sacrifice for the courage to go against the grain, and in this production, that question feels as relevant as ever.

www.ensemble.com.au

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: Pride & Prejudice (Sort Of) (Sydney Opera House)

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Venue: Sydney Opera House (Sydney NSW), Jul 16 – Aug 30, 2026
Playwright: Isobel McArthur (after Jane Austen)
Director: Simon Harvey
Cast: Zoe Ioannou, Amy Lehpamer, Kaori Maeda Judge, Ruby Shannon, Teo Vergara
Images by Prudence Upton

Theatre review
It is the old story, but told through five servants who have witnessed everything in absolute, unbroken silence. Pride & Prejudice (sort of) by Isobel McArthur arrives dressed as a theatrical reframing of the Austen novel, its dialogue translated into contemporary vernacular.

Yet for all the surface disruption, the narrative itself remains largely untouched. When the women from downstairs first appear, one anticipates a recalibration—characters and incidents seen from below, sharpened by resentment or envy. Instead, we receive the same familiar tale delivered through a more economical mechanism: five performers assuming every role.

Simon Harvey’s direction moves at a brisk clip, infusing the piece with a mischievous energy that carries much of the humour. Songs punctuate the storytelling, though the choice of largely 1980s hits for 1813 teenagers playing to a 2026 audience creates a curious dissonance. These young women are neither faithful period renderings nor convincing modern types; they are not of the Regency era, yet they are not quite of ours either.

The performers, however, are uniformly excellent—skilful, personable, and resourceful. Their chemistry is palpable, the rhythm they establish lending the production a polished, self-assured momentum. Their playfulness generates genuine laughter, even when the writing itself falls short.

There is, after all, a particular pleasure in laughing at the upper echelons—their concerns trivial, their constitutions fragile. We instinctively believe our own burdens weightier, our resilience greater, and take quiet satisfaction in their ineptitude. The servants of the Bennets, Bingleys, and Darcys would surely have offered observations far more incisive, far more savagely funny. That we do not hear them suggests some of us remain reluctant to listen to voices from below even Austen’s own.

www.goodingproductions.com | www.woodwardproductions.com

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