How Not to Make it in America - Adelaide Fringe 2026

How Not to Make It In America

Holden St Theatre

The mythology of the young artist heading to New York to make it big is one that theatre returns to again. Emily Steel’s How Not to Make It in America, presented at by Theatre Republic, begins squarely within that familiar dream: a hopeful Australian actor arrives in Manhattan determined to carve out a life on the stage.

Set in 2001, the story follows Matt, a naïve young performer buoyed by the encouragement of an acting teacher who tells him his talent is “like gold dust.” What follows is less a success story than a catalogue of missteps. His high-school sweetheart leaves him, his visa runs out, and the city that once seemed full of promise becomes increasingly inhospitable.

Complicating matters further is the historical moment in which the story unfolds. Matt’s personal struggles occur against the backdrop of the September 11 attacks - an event that irrevocably altered New York and the world beyond it. The play positions this seismic moment as part of the landscape through which Matt’s journey unfolds, but the relationship between the global tragedy and the protagonist’s personal story remains underdeveloped.

Performed by James Smith, the production asks much of its central performer. Smith shifts between an array of characters using small physical adjustments and vocal changes to sketch the various figures who populate Matt’s New York experience. Acting teachers, fellow performers, landlords and acquaintances appear briefly before giving way to the next encounter.

Smith handles the transitions with precision, demonstrating the kind of theatrical dexterity that solo storytelling demands. The script itself also moves confidently through a sequence of anecdotes and encounters, building a portrait of a young man navigating the bewildering realities of life in a city that rarely slows down.

Yet for all its structural skill, the material occasionally feels tethered to an earlier moment in theatre-making. The tone and narrative shape - the hapless dreamer outside Australia, the awkward encounters, the string of humiliations that become comic set pieces - have the flavour of a well-worn older Fringe format. The story’s perspective on ambition and failure, while sincere, sometimes carries the sense of having been shaped in a different theatrical era.

More challenging is the construction of the central character. Matt is portrayed as impulsive, often naïve to the point of foolishness, and frequently oblivious to the consequences of his actions. While such traits can form the basis of compelling comic anti-heroes, here they create a certain distance between character and audience. It becomes difficult to invest emotionally in a protagonist whose choices repeatedly undermine the sympathy the story seeks to generate.

The shadow of September 11 further complicates the narrative. The attacks appear as a contextual marker - a moment that alters Matt’s trajectory - yet the script does little to explore the emotional or social reverberations of the event itself. As a result, the historical gravity of the moment sits somewhat awkwardly beside the personal misadventures of the central character.

That imbalance occasionally leaves the audience unsure where the show’s emotional centre lies. Is this primarily a coming-of-age comedy about youthful ambition, or a reflection on a moment when the world changed irreversibly?

Whether that memory resonates fully with contemporary audiences may depend on how much patience they have for a protagonist whose lessons arrive slowly - and whose dreams, like the city he hopes to conquer, prove far less forgiving than he imagined.

Review by Kate Gaul