Tag Archives: play

Review: Gravity (Qtopia)

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Venue: Qtopia (Darlinghurst NSW), Nov 12 – 29, 2025
Playwright: Bradford Elmore
Director: Anthony Skuse
Cast: Wesley Senna Cortes, Annabelle Kablean, Drew Wilson
Images by Phil Erbacher

Theatre review
Christopher is sleeping with David, which is a problem because he lives firmly in the heteronormative world and remains deeply in love with his wife, Heather. The late discovery of his bisexuality is proving highly inconvenient, especially in a milieu where monogamy is the norm and hearts shatter at the faintest whiff of infidelity. In Gravity, Bradford Elmore charts a double-pronged coming out: a man who finds himself unexpectedly same-sex attracted, and simultaneously yearning for a polyamorous life. Elmore’s play is sensitively rendered and undeniably thoughtful, but its narrative ultimately drifts in circles, its ideas stagnating and looping without sufficient progression.

Direction by Anthony Skuse is deeply respectful of the experiences being depicted, perhaps a touch too solemn for a story that is ultimately not all that heavy. His set design mirrors his directorial sensibility—elegant, measured, and marked by a tasteful restraint. James Wallis’ lighting is a quiet triumph, infusing the staging with a tender, luminous beauty. The cast of three deliver focused, committed performances, though their occasional drift into melodrama feels misplaced. A sharper vein of humour would have gone a long way toward making the production a more engaging and dynamic watch.

People cannot help how they fall in love, and Christopher’s story reminds us that what is utterly natural becomes endlessly tangled by societal norms. Gravity reveals how the lives we imagine for ourselves are so often built on fanciful ideals and inherited conventions. Humans struggle to simply let things be; we push against our own nature, believing our choices to be rational, even as they lead us down winding, fruitless paths. The place where Christopher finally arrives should always have been clear, yet it seems we must wander through frustration and heartache before recognising the truths that were quietly waiting for us all along.

www.qtopiasydney.com.au | www.rogueprojects.com.au

Review: Present Laughter (New Theatre)

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Venue: New Theatre (Newtown NSW), Nov 11 – Dec 13, 2025
Playwright: Noël Coward 
Director: Louise Fischer
Cast: Lib Campbell, Peter Eyers, Liz Grindley, Molly Haddon, Oliver Harcourt-Ham, Michela Noonan, Reuben Solomon, Larissa Turton, Luke Visentin, Emily Weare
Images by Chris Lundie

Theatre review
It is England, circa 1940, and stage star Garry seems to spend his days deflecting admirers and his nights dazzling audiences. Noël Coward’s Present Laughter unfolds in this bubble of delightful frivolity, offering exactly the kind of airy escapism wartime audiences must have craved. Its antics may feel less coherent to contemporary sensibilities, but Coward’s charm endures — a style at once nostalgic and unmistakably evergreen.

Directed by Louise Fischer, the production cultivates an appealing old-world ambience, though it struggles to maintain momentum over its three-hour span. The comedic cadence frequently slackens, revealing an unevenness that the staging cannot fully disguise. Conversely design elements prove more assured. Tom Bannerman’s set makes good use of space while providing a measure of opulence befitting the celebrity milieu on display. Costumes by Helen Kohlhagen and Deborah Mulhall are likewise evocative of the era, offering a gentle wash of glamour providing a welcome sense of visual elevation.

Playing Garry, Peter Eyers is suitably debonair and self-satisfied, yet he never quite leans into the necessary silliness or flamboyance for the humour to land with conviction. Reuben Solomon and Luke Visentin offer welcome surges of energy in their respective roles as Morris and Roland, but it is Lib Campbell’s portrayal of Joanna that proves most compelling, her wholehearted embrace of the role’s inherent extravagance aligning most effectively with the production’s comedic register.

It is noteworthy that the role of Henry has been reconceived as Hetty in this rendition of Present Laughter, thereby transforming a key relationship into a same-sex one. This adjustment gestures toward the enduring significance of Coward’s legacy for queer communities, reaffirming our ongoing celebration of his oeuvre. Aesthetics and values inevitably shift across generations, but for now at least, Coward’s humour continues to cut through — proof that real wit ages better than most of us do.

www.newtheatre.org.au

Review: Who’s Afraid Of Virginia Woolf (Sydney Theatre Company)

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Venue: Roslyn Packer Theatre (Sydney NSW), Nov 7 – Dec 14, 2025
Playwright: Edward Albee
Director: Sarah Goodes
Cast: Emily Goddard, Kat Stewart, David Whiteley, Harvey Zielinski
Images by Prudence Upton

Theatre review
Martha and George are locked in perpetual combat, their hostility not merely private but performative. Their decision to invite a young couple into their home becomes an act of exhibition, a deliberate staging of their mutual destruction. In Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, Edward Albee exposes the tenacity with which individuals cling to their own suffering, sustained by an insatiable attachment to prestige, privilege, and power. Though Martha and George possess the agency to abandon their cyclical torment, they remain ensnared by the illusion of respectability, choosing the stability of social appearance over the uncertainty of liberation.

At sixty-three years old, the play has become something of a grand old dame of the theatrical canon, yet its genuinely subversive sensibilities ensure it remains as confrontational and affecting as ever. Under the direction of Sarah Goodes, the work gains renewed vitality: she not only excavates the raw truths within Martha and George’s volatile dynamic but also deftly unearths the humour embedded in their vicious exchanges. Goodes has taken an enduring classic and rendered it freshly incisive—polished to a gleam, yet capable of striking with the force of a blunt instrument.

Harriet Oxley’s production design evokes the period with accuracy—perhaps a touch conventional, yet undeniably effective in grounding the drama. Matt Scott’s lighting, together with music and sound design by Grace Ferguson and Ethan Hunter, begins with subtle restraint, almost imperceptible at first, but grows increasingly potent as the evening unfolds. By the time the bickering subsides and the underlying trauma surfaces, their contributions prove essential, shaping the production’s emotional crescendo with impressive efficacy.

Kat Stewart could hardly be more compelling in the role of Martha. She delivers a richly nuanced portrayal, demonstrating an intricate grasp of the character’s psychological intricacies while imbuing every moment with delectable theatricality. Her gestures, whether minute or grand, command attention, and we remain enthralled by each. As George, David Whiteley conjures the precise timbre of the mid-century American bourgeoisie through his masterful vocal modulations. His comparatively restrained approach proves just as resonant and magnetic as Stewart’s flamboyance, creating a riveting equilibrium in this deliciously acrimonious marital duel. By contrast, the younger couple, Honey and Nick—played by Emily Goddard and Harvey Zielinski—are less persuasive. Though their performances elicit steady laughter, their characterisations lack conviction, never fully embodying the personas they attempt to construct.

We can see so clearly that Martha and George could lead far better lives, if only they could embrace a simpler existence. Yet the seductive allure of wealth and status keeps them shackled to their interminable misery. Each day, they choose to persist in their poisonous habits, unable—or unwilling—to relinquish the trappings of class that sustain their suffering. In the end, we recognise something of ourselves in their torment—the way we cling to what hurts us most, simply because it feels like home.

www.sydneytheatre.com.au

Review: Monstrous (KXT on Broadway)

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Venue: KXT on Broadway (Ultimo NSW), Oct 31 – Nov 15, 2025
Playwrights: Zev Aviv, Lu Bradshaw, Byron Davis
Director: Lu Bradshaw
Cast: Zev Aviv, Byron Davis
Images by Valerie Joy

Theatre review
Chris and John meet at work, and an inexplicable attraction develops—something not quite romantic, yet undeniably charged with desire. When they finally give in to that magnetic pull, Chris moves on as though nothing has occurred, but John is irrevocably altered. His encounter with Chris has changed something fundamental in his mind, body, and perhaps even his soul. Monstrous keeps its meaning deliberately elusive, as if subscribing to the modern dictum, “if you know, you know.”

Lu Bradshaw’s direction fuses horror and the supernatural to conjure a meditation on embodiment—how the body can betray, transform, or transcend itself—exploring corporeal experience in all its contradictions: metaphysical yet visceral, intimate yet alien, and ultimately revealing the uneasy truth that our bodies are never as stable as we believe them to be.

Zev Aviv plays Chris with a compelling ambiguity of intent, yet an identity that is unmistakably trans. Their very presence signals that Monstrous’ meditations on flesh and blood emerge from a distinctly trans gaze, even if the work never makes that perspective explicit. Byron Davis, as John, is bright and mercurial, his performance brimming with restless energy that draws us in completely—by turns beguiling and bewildering, but always alive.

Corey Lange’s set design is understated yet effective, grounding the production in recognisable, everyday spaces. Lighting by Theodore Carroll and Anwyn Brook-Evans is boldly executed, heightening the story’s sense of the fantastical and encouraging us to see the body anew. Ellie Wilson’s sound design adds both intensity and texture, its esoteric undercurrents propelling us toward a heightened awareness of our physical selves, creating an aural landscape that seems to pull our bodies into the mystery it seeks to unveil.

John is one thing one moment, and something entirely different the next. What emerges takes him completely by surprise, leaving him powerless to resist. His own body becomes unfamiliar terrain—something alien, unpredictable, and alive with hidden will. There are many moments in life when our bodies can feel foreign to us: strange, unrecognisable, beyond our control. The body remains an endless mystery, even as we insist on treating it as something fixed and knowable. That tension between discovery and fear is where the terror lies—in realising that what feels monstrous may only ever be natural, when its strangeness refuses to conform and the body asserts itself in ways our simple minds cannot quite comprehend.

www.kingsxtheatre.com | www.instagram.com/red_zebra_productions

Review: Bonny & Read (Qtopia)

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Venue: Qtopia (Darlinghurst NSW), Oct 29 – Nov 8, 2025
Music and Lyrics: Ben James, Aiden Smith, Emily Whiting
Book: Aiden Smith, Emily Whiting
Director: Holly Mazzola
Cast: Elliot Aitken, Tori Bullard, Percy Chiu, Max Fernandez, Ben James, Helen Jordan-Lane, Gabi Lanham, Jack Mitsch, Alex Travers
Images by Patrick Phillips

Theatre review
Mary Read’s longing for the sea compels her to disguise herself as a man and sign aboard a merchant vessel. Fate brings her face to face with the infamous pirate Anne Bonny, and what begins as captivity soon evolves into love. In Bonny & Read, writers Ben James, Aiden Smith, and Emily Whiting revisit this 18th-century romance through a distinctly contemporary lens, crafting a musical that reclaims two legendary women from history’s margins and lets their passion sail freely at last.

The songs are engaging, if somewhat conventional, elevated by Iris Wu’s sumptuous musical direction and the cohesive aural textures shaped by sound designer Sam Cheng. While the story itself is compelling, the book of Bonny & Read can feel unnecessarily convoluted, and Holly Mazzola’s direction does little to untangle its narrative knots. Still, her instinct for spectacle is undeniable, and with Lauren Mitchell’s energetic choreography, the production maintains a lively momentum even when its storytelling falters.

Geita Goarin’s production design is modest but evocative, sketching the period with just enough texture to spark the imagination. It is, however, Luna Ng’s lighting that truly captivates — rich in drama and ambition, it shapes the emotional contours of the piece with clarity and grace, revealing the story’s subtler undercurrents and giving its sentiment a luminous depth.

Vocally, the cast ranges from competent to exceptional, with Gabi Lanham delivering a standout performance as Mary Read, her voice both rich and assured. The acting, however, is uneven across the ensemble. Tori Bullard brings sincerity and emotional intensity to Anne Bonny, offering a grounded presence amid the production’s more variable performances.

The story of Mary Read and Anne Bonny is a vivid reminder of queer forebears whose lives were too often erased or silenced by history. Their courage — at sea, in love, and in defiance of rigid conventions — still echoes across the centuries. Bonny & Read illuminates this hidden legacy, celebrating two women who claimed their freedom on their own terms, and suggesting that queer communities might take a page from the pirate’s book: to chart daring courses, embrace audacity, and live boldly, even when the world seeks to bury them.

www.qtopiasydney.com.au

Review: Naturism (Griffin Theatre Company)

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Venue: Wharf 2 Sydney Theatre Company (Walsh Bay NSW), Oct 25 – Nov 15, 2025
Playwright: Ang Collins
Director: Declan Greene
Cast: Nicholas Brown, Glenn Hazeldine, Fraser Morrison, Camila Ponte Alvarez, Hannah Waterman
Images by Brett Boardman

Theatre review
Ray presides over a small naturist commune on the outskirts of Melbourne, where its residents have lived off-grid for two decades. When Evangeline arrives unannounced, eager to join their secluded world, her intrusion sets off a quiet chain reaction that exposes the fault lines beneath the community’s calm surface. Ang Collins’ Naturism proves shrewdly more comic than polemic, even as an unmistakable ecological consciousness anchors the work. At a time when conversations about the environment often feel exhausting, Collins reminds us that laughter, too, can be an act of engagement.

Director Declan Greene wisely leans into the comedy, shaping a production that never hesitates to seize any opportunity for laughter. The exuberance he brings to the staging is infectious, even if the material itself often feels slight. Naturism may not offer much in the way of emotional or thematic depth, and our investment in its characters remains limited, yet the show’s buoyant energy and brisk 85-minute runtime ensure that our attention rarely drifts.

James Browne’s set design employs simple means to evocatively suggest the wilderness that frames the story. His costumes are a particular delight, especially in the hallucinatory sequences where the characters venture into the fantastical. Verity Hampson’s lighting is gloriously extravagant, embracing theatricality as the narrative heightens and the stakes rise. David Bergman’s sound and music design match that intensity, growing ever more vivid as the production slides into the deliciously bizarre.

The cast deserves admiration for their wholehearted commitment to what at times appears an unabashedly absurd enterprise. All five performers throw themselves into the work, mining every moment for humour and vitality. Their choices may verge on the outrageous, yet they sustain a surprising authenticity that prevents the piece from slipping into pure frivolity. It’s also worth noting that the ensemble spends much of the performance entirely nude — a fact that only deepens respect for their courage and conviction.

The characters in Naturism throw themselves wholeheartedly into doing right by the planet, yet their misadventures expose how fraught it can be to live by uncompromising ideals. We’re beginning to see that an “all or nothing” approach—whether ecological or political—often proves unsustainable, alienating those who might otherwise engage. The culture of guilt and moral absolutism around environmental action can drive people to withdraw entirely, when what the planet needs most are imperfect participants, not perfect abstainers.

www.griffintheatre.com.au

Review: Fly Girl (Ensemble Theatre)

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Venue: Ensemble Theatre (Kirribilli NSW), Oct 17 – Nov 22, 2025
Playwrights: Genevieve Hegney, Catherine Moore
Director: Janine Watson
Cast: Genevieve Hegney, Alex Kirwan, Cleo Meinck, Catherine Moore, Emma Palmer
Images by Prudence Upton

Theatre review
Deborah Lawrie’s ascent as Australia’s first woman commercial pilot came only after a gruelling battle through the courts and the Equal Opportunity Board, where she forced corporations to confront their own sexism. Fly Girl, the new play by Genevieve Hegney and Catherine Moore, revisits that hard-won triumph with warmth, wit, and reverence — though its faithful retelling can at times feel a touch too tidy for the turbulence it portrays.

Janine Watson’s direction sprinkles in flashes of theatrical flair, amid a production grounded in earnest discussion of gender disparity. Its sincerity may overwhelm at times, yet it leaves a valuable impression — a reminder of how stubbornly patriarchal thinking continues to hold its grip.

Lead actor Cleo Meinck approaches the role with diligence and poise, though her portrayal can feel restrained in tone. She balances feminine grace with quiet strength, but the performance would soar higher with more charm and humour. Around her, a nimble ensemble juggles countless supporting parts, their spirited playfulness ensuring the production never loses its buoyancy.

Grace Deacon’s set and costumes evoke the era with authenticity and colour, their vibrancy lending the stage a visual spark. Morgan Moroney’s lighting delicately sculpts tone and texture, its nuanced changes revealing the work’s shifting moods. Daniel Herten’s sound design completes the world, its careful intricacy transporting us through the play’s varied spaces and temperaments.

It has been nearly half a century since Lawrie shattered the glass ceiling and transformed the landscape for women pilots in Australia. It is tempting to believe that progress moves in a straight line — that equity, once achieved, simply builds upon itself. The reality, however, is far less stable. Every gain invites resistance, and even today, debates in the United States around diversity, equity and inclusion echo with old anxieties. Accusations that women and people of colour are being hired in aviation “without merit” reveal how tenacious patriarchal values remain. Lawrie’s legacy, then, is not a closed chapter but an ongoing call to vigilance.

www.ensemble.com.au

Review: Work, But This Time Like You Mean It (The Rebel Theatre)

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Venue: The Rebel Theatre (Sydney NSW), Oct 15 – 18 , 2025
Playwright: Honor Webster-Mannison
Director: Luke Rogers
Cast: Georgie Bianchini, Hannah Cornelia, Kathleen Dunkerley, Quinn Goodwin, Matthew Hogan, Blue Hyslop, Sterling Notley, Emma Piva
Images by

Theatre review
Chaos is the natural order in a fast-food restaurant, where young workers hold down the counters and, by extension, the bottom tiers of vast corporate empires. Honor Webster-Mannison’s Work, But This Time Like You Mean It announces its irony from the title, a wry invitation to reflect on labour, performance, and disillusionment. The play mines humour from the everyday grind, though its observations rarely move beyond the familiar. Still, the writing’s energy and authenticity make it a fertile ground for theatrical invention.

Directed by Luke Rogers, the production delivers amusement in spades, impressing with its relentless energy and visual exuberance. Set within the bleak confines of a takeout joint, Rogers’ staging transforms the banal into the spectacular, revealing the latent drama of labour and exhaustion.

Kathleen Kershaw’s set is both playground and pressure cooker, facilitating agile movement while immersing us in vivid, layered visuals. Ethan Hamill’s lighting gives the work structure and momentum, while Patrick Haesler’s sound design further heightens atmosphere and tension, ensuring the production maintains a constant sense of urgency and rhythm. Together, these elements generate a rhythm that feels breathless yet purposeful, a choreography of survival rendered with theatrical bravado.

A cast of eight delivers the show’s discombobulating heart with infectious precision and energy. Their performances are tightly honed, radiating a cohesion and verve that keep the audience engaged from start to finish. As the beleaguered branch manager, Blue Hyslop stands out for both charm and nuance, balancing comic timing with moments of surprising emotional depth amid the surrounding mayhem.

Work, But This Time Like You Mean It presents entry-level work as both crucible and classroom, a space where identities are forged under pressure, and where the absurd machinery of labour dispenses its quiet lessons in endurance. It exposes the inevitability of our initiation into capitalism, especially at an age too young to grasp its traps, when the thrill of a first job disguises the real lesson: that the system always starts by teaching us how to stay in line.

www.canberrayouththeatre.com.au

Review: The Edit (25A Belvoir)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Review: The Shiralee (Sydney Theatre Company)

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Venue: Sydney Opera House (Sydney NSW), Oct 6 – Nov 29, 2025
Playwright: Kate Mulvany (from the novel by D’Arcy Niland)
Director: Jessica Arthur
Cast: Stephen Anderson, Paul Capsis, Lucia Mastrantone, Josh McConville,  Kate Mulvany, Aaron Pedersen, Ziggy Resnick, Catherine Văn-Davies
Images by Prudence Upton

Theatre review
In Kate Mulvany’s retelling of The Shiralee, D’Arcy Niland’s 1955 novel, the swagman Macauley finds purpose only when he chooses to embrace his parental responsibilities as his daughter Buster approaches her tenth birthday. Together they walk through the shadow of the Great Depression, where dust and hunger become the measure of endurance. The hardships they face quickly draw them close, allowing both to flourish in unexpected ways.

What was once a folksy tale of toil and redemption is transformed by Mulvany’s deft writing into something vibrantly humorous and sharply contemporary. Her play is delightful, charming, and consistently hilarious — a thoroughly entertaining reimagining that recontextualises a classic story for modern sensibilities.

Directed by Jessica Arthur, the production leans wholeheartedly into its comedic potential, unearthing every possible moment of laughter to create a show brimming with joy and playfulness. Driven by an expansive imagination and free-spirited inventiveness, Arthur’s work is a profound uplift, offering sincere explorations of love, belonging, and the meaning of home.

The cast glows with an irresistible warmth — each performer uncovering fresh, idiosyncratic ways to awaken an old tale for our restless, modern hearts. They play to our weariness with laughter, coaxing joy from every line, finding light in even the smallest turns of phrase.

As Macauley, the magnetic Josh McConville strikes a perfect balance between gruff masculinity and raw vulnerability, allowing us to see both the archetypal Aussie bloke and the tender humanity that quietly resides beneath the façade. The endlessly endearing Ziggy Resnick radiates pure exuberance as Buster, delivering a performance that is both impeccably timed and deeply sensitive — a portrait of a child wise beyond her years.

Jeremy Allen’s production design is elegantly spare, mirroring the harshness and austerity of the Australian outback. His use of gumtrees, at once iconic and nostalgic, evokes a landscape that feels both mythic and deeply personal. Trent Suidgeest’s lighting design is remarkable, seamlessly transforming the stage into a multitude of imagined places while crafting moments of sheer visual poetry that satisfy our longing for beauty. Equally striking is Jessica Dunn’s sound and composition, which capture both the vast, unforgiving sweep of the land and the tender intimacy of this unlikely father and daughter bond. Dunn’s work brims with feeling, but her sentimentality is never cloying; it moves us because it is always saying something true.

In this 2025 reiteration of The Shiralee, are unforgettable encounters with Indigenous and other people of colour, alongside multiple queer identities and unapologetic women of substance. Beneath the lively retelling of a story about familial bonds and traditional maleness lie subtle but profound redefinitions of the marginalised, insisting that we see ourselves not as outsiders but as integral threads woven into the tapestry of the Australian myth, forever reshaping it with our resolute presence and undaunted voices.

www.sydneytheatre.com.au