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Consecutive Fringe First winners  Natasha Roland and Xhloe Rice  return to the Edinburgh Fringe in 2024. Last year’s “And Then the Rodeo Burned Down” was an absolute corker so I couldn’t wait to see this piece (one of two productions the team present this year). Natasha Roland and Xhloe Rice are a New York City based, writer/performer company of two who have collaborated for over a decade, creating clownesque absurdist physical theatre. “What if They Ate the Baby? is a queer theatrical dystopia, probing a relationship of two American housewives (Dottie and Shirley), trapped in a shared liminal space of a suburban household and their own love affair. Post second world war feminism, the stay-at-home mum and the American Dream are all under examination here. It’s not particularly ground-breaking stuff – that is, until you experience the Roland and Rice spin on these themes. On a black and white checkerboard floor with a table and chair and a lace curtained window the women wear pastel-coloured frocks with stiff petticoats and neat hair. Everything is perfect.  But the frocks are smeared with green paint, there’s bright green spaghetti for dinner and the window is wonky.  Throbbing grunge music interpolates and accompanies these women’s feverish queer fantasies. Subversion is the name of the game here and picture-perfect lives become sinister, scary, exciting.  Roland and Rice are compelling and confident writers.  Having created the mundane lives of Dottie and Shirley we then spiral into an absurdist world (in both the existential and Dada-ist sense).  Story and dialogue circle, become repeated with lines swapped between the characters. It’s like we are listening into a conversation through a wall and now piecing it together in three dimensions. Meaning is broken and accumulates. Roland and Rice have something to say about the secret lives of women and the skill to have it sing! That the writing is so good makes this work unique amongst productions employing clowning, comedy and physical techniques. The signature discipline, physicality and play are wildly entertaining. These are highly skilled performers who leave me squealing with delight (internally!)  With flair and wit, they deliciously overturn what we “normally” see in the theatre. Form and function come together beautifully. After the masculine world of rough and tumble clown cowboys in “And Then the Rodeo Burned Down” it is a delight to see the pair explore femininity.  But then the hyper masculine cowboy and housewife are both “performing”, right? Percolating themes of surveillance, paranoia, capitalism all orbit a queer centre. The work is political with a light touch. It could be interesting to see if Roland and Rice could sharpen their political darts without losing any of the play. The company’s new show “A Letter to Lyndon B Johnson or God: whoever Reads this First” is highly anticipated. “What if They Ate the Baby?” has a limited run at the fringe this year.  Playing theSpace@Niddry St. Catch it if you can! Review by Kate Gaul

Pony Cam state they are “driven by a desire to bring people together to create experiences that could not otherwise be had. By subverting well-known forms, activating unexpected spaces, and inviting audiences into our work in unexpected ways, we create moments where audiences are challenged to question their assumptions, laugh at themselves, and reject habitual recourse. The current line up for Pony Cam is Claire Bird, Ava Campbell, William Strom, Dominic Weintraub and Hugo Williams.”   Pony Cam are the Melbourne-based mavericks of mayhem in this inspired, crazy and thought-provoking show, “Burnout Paradise”.  Coming off strong Melbourne seasons and Grant Theft Theatre  (which won a “Best in Fringe” prize in Melbourne and enjoyed a follow-up season as part of Adelaide Festival this year) Pony Cam’s Sydney premiere  Burnout Paradise  harnesses their success to explore theatrical ambiguity, and the possibility of theatrical failure. It is billed as a physical celebration that comes with burnout. Additionally, this is an examination of the excruciating torture of living as an artist in Australia who must leap through metaphorical hoops to barely survive.  Life is dangerous, cruel and fuelled with impossible tasks against time.  So, Pony Cam made a show about it.   Four skinny performers take it in turns to cook a three-course meal (served to two audience members by the end of the show), stage a heartfelt performance that is related to their childhood, start and finish a grant application to Charles Sturt University, and complete a list of everyday leisure tasks with an abundance of props.  And all of this on individual treadmills with the added handle to aim for a combined kilometre tally that beats what has been achieved the night before – or risk the audience receiving a ticket refund. A fifth member is side of stage with a laptop, running the show, keeping score and serving Gatorade (and selling the merch!) Audience members jump to their feet to assist (no one is obliged to do so). The rapport that Pony Cam establishes is essential to the game. The cast is stuck on their respective treadmills, so it’s up to the audience to get them their props, ingredients, and supplies. It’s a lot of fun, we cheer and whoop as the tasks are completed or not.  Once we understand the format there is a sense of waning and I for one longed for a deeper exploration of burnout because it is real, shattering and deathly.  But “Burnout Paradise” isn’t going there.  I read on the company website that the show is described by the team as “an unravelling realisation that the systems we participate in are not designed for us”.  But the night I saw the show the team did succeed in exceeding their goals – so are they designed for this system?  But I applaud the mental and physical stamina this event requires. The company faces a gruelling season in Edinburgh this August.  They may push their limits there and it will be interesting to see what Scottish audiences make of it all.   Review by Kate Gaul Image Supplied

[YOUR NAME] KXT [YOUR NAME] is the latest divertissement from Purple Tape Productions at KXT.   Writer Kate Bubalo has a background in sketch writing and comedy as well as performing both.  They completed [YOUR NAME], their first play, as part of their MFA at NIDA and it has been shortlisted for a Griffin Award. [YOUR NAME], uses the existence of fan fiction and the rise of the internet for its dissemination to create an hilarious dramedy. Fan fiction is a type of writing that responds to something else like a book, a TV show or a film. People write fan fiction because they are big fans of their chosen story and want to create more of it.because they are big fans of their chosen story and want to create more of it. Three teenagers are creating a Harry Potter-esque fanfic. The world of Harry Potter fan fiction is rich and diverse, expanding on beloved characters and exploring new paths. When this erotic (and smutty!) fan fic is accidentally submitted to their PDHPE teacher, things start getting interesting. They continue writing their fanfic whilst their relationships between each other start to break down. At a serious level, the play is asking questions about the sexuality and sexualisation of teenage girls, the importance of fantasy in our lives, how stories can have a life of their own and the dangers, delights and everything in between of the internet. It’s funny. The play feels overly long in production and would benefit from another draft following this outing to tighten up the drama. Lily Hayman directs and, alongside intimacy coordinator Shondelle Pratt, has shaped some gloriously comic sex scenes with an extraordinary cast who throw themselves into this heightened and fantastic world.  Andrew Fraser is without doubt doing a lot of the heavy lifting as the only male onstage.  As PDHPE teacher, Mr Isaacs, he grapples with the complexity of teaching sex education in an all-girls school and then discovering he is the object of their internet fantasy.  It is a detailed, physical, spirited, and nothing-short-of-camp-when-necessary performance. Evelina Singh shines as schoolgirl Petra who pens the first hot chapter of the story. Their incredible charisma, skill and unique creativity are on high beam as we watch them relish this role. Lola Bond plays cry-baby Kris - who accidentally submits the fanfic to Mr Isaacs rather than the required assignment - and the character’s anxiety is palpable.  Georgia McGinness plays the more sober Nadine.  All three women get to play their mothers too in an outrageous scene when Mr Isaacs has summoned adults to the fray.  McGinness and Bond are particularly revelatory. Closing words from producer and director Lily Hayman seem apt: "The play is pure joy; it is an ode to those who grew up around the internet in the 2010-2016 era (me for real). The play is witty, erotic, and energetic. We are laughing along (and at) the characters and situations throughout the play. But underneath all the crazy magic and special effects (think Cursed Child on a KXT budget) lies a compelling message about the lives of young women and their experience of the world. The play acknowledges that the women who are seen as 'silly little girls' have real emotions, issues, and challenges that shouldn't be dismissed". Review by Kate Gaul (Image: Georgia Brogan)

King Lear Neilson Nutshell Bell Shakespeare presents “King Lear” – the third production of this play from the company since its inception. Firstly, the very un-classical, definitely controversial but absolutely undeniable production directed by Barrie Kosky in 1998 (with John Bell in the title role).  Then in 2010 John Bell again played Lear in a Japanese inspired production memorably directed by Marion Potts.  Now, in 2024 Artistic Director Peter Evans stakes his claim on the text.  This time Robert Menzies takes the titular role.  He is one of our living treasures of the theatre now and he imbues the role with compelling physical degradation across the three hours of the play.  His textual clarity is most welcome in a production set in the round (when not every word will be coming at you directly from the stage as actors must have backs turned to at least a portion of the audience). As expected, he excels in the second half as the once stately Lear is now gone mad and wanders a wind-blown heath.  The ferocity of Lear’s observations, his insights and passion are seared into our imaginations, and I challenge anyone not to be moved with these scenes and finally as Lear grieves his dead daughter, Cordelia. But is it enough? Menzies leads a cast of ten.  Outstanding amongst them is the luminous Lizzie Schebesta (Goneril), Bell veteran James Lugton (Gloucester)and Janine Watson (Kent) And - although less experienced - Alex King plays a striking Edgar. Stage setting (Anna Tregolan) is a beautiful and resonant copper disc for a stage and the show is echoed in shapes above the stage and then around the auditorium hang copper orbs.  All gleaming and seductive drawing our attention to ever present astrological references. This is a minimalist “King Lear”.  The costumes are an eclectic collection of smart rehearsal room blacks onto which are applied linen tabards, cloaks and other bits and pieces. It’s all very conceptual. The work is mostly measured and sometimes comes across as passionless. The copper disc and orbs are beautifully lit by Benjamin Cisterne, at time unconventionally.  The space has great atmosphere.  All assisted by (the ever reliable) Max Lyandvert’s composition and sound design which adds to the unsettling nature of the environment. At the conclusion of the show and on the way out to the foyer the company has displayed the costume and set renderings in a large scale.  This is a clever deconstruction of what we have just seen, and I imagined my teenage self and burgeoning theatre nerd being very excited about this detailed display.  This is a posh night at the theatre at all levels! I missed an embodiment of visceral nature of the text; that this was a world torn apart through blindness and deceit.  I think it’s an interesting question about HOW to embody heightened text for a contemporary audience. Hopefully theatre goers will get to see “King Lear” more than once in a lifetime.  If we can hear the text and see the players tempting us with the story and sit in a world imbued with the vision of directors, designers and other theatre artists then Shakespeare’s genius can touch us.  Bell Shakespeare’s “King Lear” certainly rings in my imagination days after seeing this fresh production. Review by Kate Gaul

POV 25A Belvoir “POV” is a new theatre work that builds on re:group performance collective’s interest in the intersections of cinema and theatre, this time turning our attention to documentary filmmaking. re:group collaborate with two young performers and thirty six unrehearsed actors across the season of their latest theatre work, “POV”.  Each night of the latest docudrama experiment two new unrehearsed adult actors join a (rehearsed) young performer onstage. Through her direction, they are led through re-enacted scenes, mediating questions about family, agency, mental health and how we speak to children. The child, Bub, is 11-years old and obsessed with documentary filmmaking. As her parental relationship seems to be falling apart, Bub turns to these re-enactments (by actors) to get to the truth. A rotating cast of performers, who know almost nothing about what to expect, are fed lines from the child on stage, given scripts, and in-ear prompting. They tell us – via reading from a prepared script – what they are asked to arrive with.  A sense of openness and play, yes.  For the male actor playing Dad: to prepare a Werner Hertzog accent. For the woman playing Mum: some preparatory research on bi-polar disorder.  The night I attended the actors were Tom Conroy playing Dad and Vaishnavi Suryaprakash playing Mum.  Mabelle Rose played Bub. “POV” could be described as an event where two points of focus for the audience (1) the story that has been rehearsed with Bub (2) the reactions of the unrehearsed actors as they make their way through the material. “POV’ is lays bare its mechanics – instructions are revealed; actors “act” and react and these are caught on camera and projected back to the audience in larger-than-life proportions; Bub is “running the show” but we know this is rehearsed, scripted, pre-planned.  At times we are asked to believe that as she lies on a dolly track set up across the stage and that she is putting herself in danger on a train track (accompanied with appropriate sound and lighting design). We are told at the beginning of the show that one of the company members, Carly, is the child chaperone.  About half of the way through the performance the child actor needs an official break and so we all take a break.  Biscuits and fruit poppers are handed around. The production plays with our perceptions of time - by taking it. We wait as camera’s are repositioned, a mattress inflates, a child takes a legal break in work. Early in the piece – and perhaps one of its most striking moments – is as we wait for a polaroid picture of Bub’s parents to develop/emerge from the emulsion when the chemicals hit the light. The ability to capture a moment and have it develop right before your eyes is something truly magical. Maybe this is at the heart of re:group’s practice. On a personal level, the work reflects lived experiences of the complexities of family life, childhood and mental health within the creative team. “For us, the real, live negotiation between two adults and a child constitutes the ‘documentary’ in the work - even though the scenes they are re-enacting are mostly fictional,” says director and co-creator, Solomon Thomas. When the adult actor playing mum is asked by the child to describe what she knows about bipolar disorder, the adult actor temporarily steps outside her script (as it were).  A test of her preshow homework, sure, but also a candid and effective scene where an adult knows they should tread carefully and sensitively. She also knows this is a public act, in a theatre, with an audience.  Every performance may be different of course but Vaishnavi Suryaprakash’s vulnerability in this scene created genuine electricity. Which leads me to reflect on the nature of performance; the fact that we are ALL actors; and the roles of illusion and truth in the theatre – all the old chestnuts! “POV” invites us to think of auteur film-maker Werner Herzog who is stated to believe that there is no difference between documentary and fiction. Herzog gets three mighty mentions across the 80+ minutes of “POV”.  Bub writes to him as a fellow documentarian to ask for advice (she gets a response, read by the adult male actor in the aforementioned pre-prepared accent); during the entitled break the audience is asked to take out their phones, find quotes from Werner Hertzog and read them out loud; and there is a longer email to Bub that may or may not have arrived from Herzog but is read by Dad as if it is. Werner Herzog plays a certain role in the public imagination. The German filmmaker has become meme-ified and satirised – not his work, but his person, his wild-haired, Bavarian-accented, sad-eyed, difficult-truth-intoning person. Herzog’s primary films are always about Herzog’s obsession with obsessive characters. There are pages and pages devoted to the examination of Herzog’s ethic’s, his appropriation and ultimately (my point-of view) his fascination with himself and his inability to fully embrace the humanity of the people who populate his chosen setting. So, what to make of the interpolation of Herzog here? Is there a pointed intention at work in “POV” give the proportional time allotted to Herzog? I can’t unravel it but there is something unsettling about Herzog and his place inside Bub’s interrogation of reality.  Reality is mediated, I guess, and we all like to think we have control. Lots of food for thought and as a first pass at an idea 25A is the perfect launch pad for “POV”. I look forward to seeing how re:group collective develop the work from here. By Kate Gaul (Image Supplied)

The Eisteddfod Old Fitz Theatre In 2024 Lally Katz emerged from the Melbourne indie theatre scene to become one of Australia’s hottest playwrights.  Two works indelibly planted in our collective theatre memories from that time are Stuck Pigs Squealing’s “The Black Swan of Trespass” by Lally Katz and Chris Kohn followed by Katz's “The Eisteddfod”. Both of which played in the Belvoir downstairs space. At the time the plays were hailed as unconventional, raw, poetic works that explored human nature at its most “difficult, comical and depraved” (Alison Croggon).  Moving forward by two decades Ziggy Resnick and her team of theatrical adventurers revisit this work anew.  “The Eisteddfod” explores – through the frame of childhood – themes of loss, dependency, and grief.  Orphaned young by a “pruning accident” Gerture (Fraser Crane) and Abalone (Ziggy Resnik) are living a half-life between childhood and adulthood.  They have become acrophobic and together create fantasy lives ranging from the banal to absurd. They rehearse a performance of Macbeth for the local Eisteddfod, an undertaking Abalone has made unsuccessful attempts at winning since childhood. He now invites his sister to participate, to draw her back from a parallel world in which she is an imaginary schoolteacher, and a place she is spending more and more time, to the exclusion of Abalone. The events of this play all exist in a highly tenuous relationship to reality as the siblings play out ‘scenes’ as they wish or imagine their lives may have happened. But these are characters whose lives have never actually ‘happened’. They build worlds within worlds, manufacturing a space of destruction and desire, but without any tangible counterpart in the real world. Abalone plays Gerture’s abusive boyfriend, Ian. Gerture plays ‘Mother’ to the needy Abalone, and they play their parents for one another to imagine, or even remember, how their parent’s relationship may have looked. Over the course of the play, Gerture disappears further into her own imaginary ‘school’ world, leaving the despairing and dominant Abalone behind and it becomes apparent that Gerture has outgrown the imaginary worlds played out in their shared bedroom. The play is unsettling to say the least and a kind of bleakness as we hear Shakespeare’s lines as a kind of pervasive subtext:"Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player, / Who struts and frets his hour upon the stage / And is heard no more. It is a tale / Told by an idiot, full of sound fury, / Signifying nothing." There’s also a nod to Chekhov as the prize for winning the Eisteddfod is a trip to Moscow. Certainly, we feel that Chekhovian bittersweetness threaded throughout the play, but I would never call it nostalgic. I think the play is more savage than this. Co-directors Miranda Middleton and Jessica Bell never really succeed in creating the suffocation in terms of living space or relationship.  Playing in all corners of the Old Fitz stage (albeit on the set of “Isolde and Tristan”) there is a generous freedom for the two players.  It’s certainly lively and the production’s strength is the glee with which actors embrace their roles and opportunities to play to their strengths. The work straddles melodrama, escapism, clowning, realism and absurdist suffering.... The audience responded with laughs aplenty.  Ziggy Resnick proves once again they are an actor in search of a challenge – the sheer technical skill, imagination, daring and invention are to be applauded. Is there anything they cannot do?  The performance is played at 10+ all night but it fits the style of this production. Fraser Crane impresses with their light touch and deep understanding of their role.  The now ubiquitous audition speech which begins ‘I’m so sad.  But not too sad to talk about it.”  is masterful. I was amused by the antics of the characters.  I was moved by the final scene.  Announced as “Scene 13” Gerture climbs up an onstage mast and from on high sprinkles torn white paper as snow.  Gerture’s pain drives this narrative, and it is through her pain that she created a redemptive act to free her from the siblings claustrophobic bedroom and Abalone’s control.  She (imaginatively at least) arrives in Moscow. There are many images that stay with me since the show made its Sydney debut in 2007. I now have a new image to add to that storehouse. Kate Gaul (Image supplied)

Shook Substation at QTOPIA Instead of GCSEs, Cain, Riyad and Jonjo got sentences. Locked up in a young offender institution, they trade sweets, chat shit, kill time – and await fatherhood. Grace's job is to turn these teenagers into parents, ready to take charge of their futures. But can they grow up quickly enough to escape the system? Winner of the 2019 Papatango New Writing Prize, Samuel Bailey's “Shook” – we are told “is a tender and honest play examining the young men society shuts away.” The play arrives in Sydney via new company, Lost Thought, directed by Emma Whitehouse. The play has a kind of hyper realistic energy, and this follows through in the directing. At 100 minutes (no interval) we really need something to care about.  The outcome of the plot is not so unexpected but the attention to detail in the directing is honourable. Played with “authentic” regional UK accents the text can be – at times – extremely difficult to understand.  But there is enough going on physically for us to get the gist.  The production had a last-minute change of venue to the Substation and this under street level and intimate room is ideal for a drama which literally takes place in a locked room. It’s a run-down classroom in a young offender’s institution where the guys can learn some life skills before returning to the outside world. I suspect the Substation space is best used more site specifically. For this production the intervention of a canvas wall and flimsy door frame don’t do many favours to an otherwise robust piece of work.  The challenge will always be to find a solution to the dramatic needs of a play in any given space – but hey, that’s our job as creatives. Louis Regan plays the hyperactive and unpredictable Cain with a mania beloved by young actors. There’s not a lot of variation in the performance but these banged up lads aren’t exactly into nuance. Cain is an illiterate troublemaker who devours sweets with the aggression he spews out on others.  Malek Domkoc gives a striking performance as Riyad – ex gang member with a brain who is really giving rehabilitation a go. Isaac Harley an introverted and dog loving Jonjo neatly balances his inner demons with startling vulnerability. I didn’t buy the over wrought final moment in this production. This guy is vicious underneath and how successful is the ‘system” anyway? Isn’t the point of the play that these guys get “shook” and revert to type? Edyll Ismail is stunning in her portrayal of courage under pressure as Grace, the social worker who comes to the lockup to show these young fathers how to care for an infant. The playwright gives the actors plenty to work with.  It’s not particularly theatrical and it’s meant to be played with a fourth wall.  Traditional, little poetry, predictable world view.  It’s a sad story unfolding in a concrete bunker in shades of grey. Plenty of things to think about in terms of the despairing predicament of incarcerated youth anywhere. The joy in this production is encountering the new talents on and off the stage, definitely some names to watch. Review by Kate Gaul I(mage Becky Mathews)

Every Single Thing in My Whole Entire Life, Zoë Coombs Marr The Grand Electric Zoë Coombs Marr received a Melbourne Comedy Festival award in 2016 for “Trigger Warning,” the show that presented her in meta-drag as a retrograde male comic named “Dave” to call-out the disparate standards for men in comedy. We thank her from making intersectional feminism funny!  Her 2018 show presented Marr as herself while still playfully poking fun at the conventions of stand-up and specials themselves, “Bossy Bottom”, which you can catch on ABC iView – absolute comic gold! Zoë is also the creator, writer, and host of “Queerstralia” – a must see into the untold LGBTQIA+ history of Australia (also on ABC iView). And there’s lots, lots more … Zoe Coombs Marr has always included a lot of personal material in her work and “Every Single Thing in My Whole Entire Life” takes autobiographical content to the next level. Its’s implausibly ridiculous as comedy meets life’s challenges, meets planning, and then meets us via a projected Miro Board and then Excel Spreadsheet of a life’s worth of events. Knowing chuckles or groans from audience depending on digital competency.  Coombs Marr tells us that she decided to divide her life up into seven-year increments to catalogue her jokes and battle depression and she’s ready to tell us about every single thing in her whole entire life. Over the course of the hour, we kind of get to suggest where the banter might go – that we maybe wandering freely through someone’s past - her long-term relationship, street pizza, sandwiches, a frog in a toilet, a random make-out session at the Imperial, an uncontrolled pee in Adelaide. I got the impression that some of the material may be different every show as Zoë opens up about her life –and be warned – it’s not all roses.  Some of it is dark and details of suicide ideation might not be everyone’s idea of a great night out.  But she’s still here and we are laughing, and she is laughing with us. The gender identity content is more palatable if well-worn and jokes about comedian and ADHD draw snorts and hoots. Of course, no one sitting past the front row can actually read the spreadsheet, but we love the idea. If the show is about anything it could be memory – what do we recall of our lives, how to we recall it? What I love about Coombs Marr is that amongst all the absurdities there is a genuinely brainy thread coursing through the work.  The way she wraps shows is effortless and classic. “Every Single Thing in My Whole Entire Life” feels shambolic and it is but we go somewhere and love that someone else can make sense of their world. “Mind melting” and “Meta” as all the reviews say. This show will be in Edinburgh this year – go see it! Kate Gaul (Image: Supplied)

Nayika A Dancing Girl நாயிகா – ஒரு நாட்டியப் பெண் Belvoir Written and directed by Nithya Nagarajan and Liv Satchell, Nayika a Dancing Girl tells a story of recovery and triumph, through an confluence of western story telling conventions and the Indian classical Bharatanatyam dance – Bha (Bhavam: expression)-Ra (Ragam: song)-Tha(Thalam: rhythm)-natyam(dance) –  which is used to express major plot points and emotional highs/lows of the story. Vaishnavi Suryaprakash is at the centre of this performance – accompanied by stunning live music from Marco Cher-Gibard and Bhairavi Raman. She narrates her coming-of-age story through her present identity as an adult in Australia and her early teenage experiences of violence in her first relationship in Chennai. Hidden memories are triggered by an unexpected visit from a friend in Sydney. As a teenager there is a boy with whom she shares stolen glances. There are her dance classes where the guru teaches her about the different types of heroines in Indian mythology. Nayika translates as heroine, specifically one of the eight types of romantic heroine described in an ancient Indian treatise on the performing arts. The play weaves connections between Suryaprakashm, the play’s protagonist (a dancing girl), and these mythic heroines. Towards the end of the work, our protagonist asks: where is the “overwhelmed” heroine – the heroine who shows us how to deal with a dangerous lover? The dance guru tells her that to face her overwhelming feelings she must embrace her power, and real power comes with control over one’s body and one’s emotions. The story moves from scenes of teenage girls, relationships, and romance to a reclaiming her voice (of sorts) and her power after having become a victim to partner abuse. “A Dancing Girl” identifies this power as the missing ninth heroine of Bharatanatyam: a heroine who can reclaim control of time, space, and body.  With violence against women all too recently declared a national crisis by our Prime Minister, it is important to share and understand stories of gendered and domestic abuse, in addition to the nuance of experiences amongst the South Asian diaspora. The production is stylish.  Set design is shared between this and “Lose to Win” and is designed by Keerthi Subramanyam.  The string backdrop reveals a musician’s platform. Consummate designer Morgan Moroney lights the stage with immense allure and provides incredible shifts between moments in the story and supports the use of space in the performance of both text and dance.  Music, dance, and text are woven together with the design elements with sophistication. The performance is intimate, magnetic, and focussed. This is not an easy story to warm to.  Empathy is possible but there’s something over-polite in the writing that distances.  It may be a cultural respect that is employed or a fear of damaging the febrile memories on which the work is based. Playing at Belvoir in the downstairs space is another South Asian work, Aurat Raj. Supporting these rich stories is a refreshing programming direction for the theatre.  Long may it continue. Kate Gaul (Image Brett Boardman)

Misery Loves Company   KXT Legit Theatre Co present this new black comedy by emerging writer Isabella Reid (Directed by Mathew Lee).  Ten actors pour into a suburban Northern Irish room in 1977 to mourn the passing of Daphne, beloved mother to Jackie, daughter to George and sister to Dolores and Henry. Daphne is remembered for a keen passion for swing-dancing, a mighty collection of brooches and a new venture into lesbianism. Under the shadow of Irish Troubles, a family mourns. The production begins well with a music chorus.  The spirited cast who sings and play instruments is a delight. Clare Hennesey impresses as composer and sound designer. Her work gives us place and emotional temperature. It’s a real cut above. The colours and textures of designer Ruby Jenkins are just right and point to the real care that has taken this play from a small idea of a play to this full scale 70-minute event.   Comedy is hard and Reid can certainly write a good joke. Mostly the cast deliver the jokes – a combination of character and timing. It occasionally feels as if everyone has watched too may eps of “Derry Girls” to learn the accent and the dry comic timing intended in a piece about life in the face of death.  The Northern Irish accent if delivered accurately would be impenetrable to us so some concession must be made in an Australian play. It is uneven here.   Impressive performances include Clay Crighton – a talented musician and actor and here plays a small child who drinks the whiskey infused cup of tea, with hilarious results; Mark Langham who plays Pa George who has dementia – it’s a beautifully written part and gives the play a potential transcendence; Teale Howie has fantastic comic chops (he plays the in-home carer); and for my money, Lincoln Elliot just doesn’t have enough to do – he’s a major talent. Overall, it’s a great ensemble. Director Mathew Lee has crafted a sparking event. It is tricky knowing who is who, but we roll with the antics and compare notes in the foyer. Father John is a character both in the drama and cast as the narrator of it. His functionality could assist ameliorating any confusion.   The play (at 70 minutes) is overly long.  It starts with a bang and the ends with the dreaded whimper.  The big joke which reveals itself at the end of the play doesn’t quite work because the audience know who/what is in the coffin well before the characters do. Why? What is beyond the literal meaning of the title “Misery Loves Company” – indicating that it is better to suffer the slings and arrows of life in a group/family/tribe than alone. What can the family elder who is slowly returning to s second childhood teach us?   It takes a village to develop and produce a new work. Hats off to Legit Theatre for getting this premiere to the stage.  This surely won’t be the last time we her from Isabelle Reid. See it!   Kate Gaul

Lose to Win Belvoir Charismatic, playful, and skilled performer Mandela Mathia presents his own gripping history.  This is a story of a young Sudanese man’s journey to escape war, personal tragedy, and hardship to his adopted life in Australia.  Resilience, the power of dreams and some straight up luck are all at play here. Mandela Mathia has since prospered since his arrival here as a refugee, trained at NIDA and can boast that this is his second show on the magical Belvoir stage. Essentially this is a solo performance, but Mandela is accompanied by Senegalese musician Yacou Mbya on a variety of percussion.  As the doors shut to the theatre Yacou drums on the landing and then down the aisle onto the stage. He warms up the audience as we engage in rhythmic clapping and hooting.  It’s fun.  Not the usual Belvoir fare!  This ebullience skilfully sets up the head-above-water optimism needed by refugees who face unimaginable adversity to survive. Mandela grew up in civil war-torn Sudan. His nicknames were those of guns: Kalashnikov, AK-47 and more. His father was shot fleeing to save his family. Mandela was only a small child then, but the loss of a father casts a shadow over his story. His mother drowned in an overcrowded boat while seeking food for her starving family. The stories are heart breaking.  North Sudan, shoe shining, odd jobs, Egypt all fill this overfull life of a young man. More searing moments occur after his arrival in Australia as Mandela tells of people preferring to stand on a bus than sit beside him or of Dutton’s infamous dog-whistling over Melbourne’s Sudanese gangs.  It is sobering to have this vital, engaged artist describe the trauma of bigotry and racism in Australians as he experienced first-hand.  The generosity of his humour, the interspersed dance and song and the sheer life force of this performance salves. Performed on a set by Keerthi Subramanyam (shared with another production “Nayika A Dancing Girl”) which is a quite beautiful string backdrop in front of which are the instruments and several suitcases and small hand props. Kate Baldwin lights this work with subtle changes.  Jessica Arthur directs and leans into the simplicity that makes this story shine. The partnership between director and actor began at NIDA and “Lose to Win” was originally presented at Old Fitz in 2022. It occasionally feels as if the production could do with more distinct changes in tone and delivery.  As a story of who we are and the rich make-up of our society this production more than makes up for any deficiency. Biography onstage is tough and can either become horribly confessional or trite. “Lose to Win” showcases Mandela and reminds us that we all meet forks in the road of life, and we can choose to be hateful and bitter of to embrace love as we find our way. The content and production is a breath of fresh air in the Belvoir season and bodes well for future programming and building new mainstage audiences. You could say “Lose to Win” is a win-win. Kate Gaul (Image Brett Boardman)

Fourteen Parramatta Riverside Theatres The latest work of FNQ company Shake & Stir Theatre Co is a “heart-warming coming of age tale”.  Adapted from the best- selling memoir by award-winning journalist Shannon Molloy, “Fourteen” is the inspirational true story of growing up gay in central Queensland. Adaptors Nelle Lee and Nick Skubij (with Shannon Molloy) have some great material to work with but sadly it’s a clumsy, overly long and what feels like a very early draft that has made its way into a production and now National Tour.  It’s important to tell and hear stories from the queer, rural and regional experience but this play is suffering in being too many things to too many people.  There is nothing wrong with presenting stereotypes onstage but the litany of bogan behaviour, the endless use of the f word in relation to gay boys, the unexplored relationships made for a disappointing experience. However, the campy stereotype of the way a gay boy talks, walks and dresses does need interrogation in a play like this.  If identity is used for comic relief and characters break into dance routines when the plot needs moving forward it’s just lazy work. The pre-publicity suggested the production may be a homage to the 1990s.  I lived through the ’90s and there wasn’t much I could connect with here.  Maybe there is a fear of being super specific. One person’s coming our story can resonate across time if it is particular and distinct.  But sadly, “Fourteen” is a generalised blur. With poor material on the page, it’s almost impossible for director Nick Skubij to make much of it on the stage.  The set design (Josh McIntosh) is monumental, traditional, filling the stage with an unimaginatively used revolve, on top of which is a double story set of literal spaces joined by endless stairs that pull in and out. Its ugly and can’t contribute to the magic that this story so desperately needs. The production is sluggish and laboured as the cast change costume endlessly and must “set up” the scenes before playing.  Like so many book adaptations the direct address from the central character Shannon is charming and suggests a more fluid production style. It’s overly long. There was no poetry in this version of “Fourteen”.  Just a nagging feeling that it’s all a bit unenlightened in its intentions. Conor Leach leads an impressive 7 person cast.  He is Shannon - the heart of the story told across time.  He begins the play as an adult on the evening of his wedding.  We are plunged into his awkward, dangerous, and confusing teenage years.  Leach is engaging and has genuine charisma. A talent to watch. Veteran Karen Crone is delightful as Shannon’s mum and created a character that deserves scenes of more depth and complexity. She plays a damned fine teen too. Any Ingram is incredible in her multiple roles as a heart-breaking bogan to the inspiring Rhonda.  It’s a real treat seeing these three actors on stage and more than made up for the shortcomings of the production. I couldn’t find a program at the theatre and the cast are not credited on the company website but as I say they are all impressive.  I wanted more from this stage adaptation of this important story. Kate Gaul (Photo by David Fell)