What Melbourne Loved in 2019, part 3

Today are another three of my favourite people; we'd make a very good lunch foursome. All refuse to accept the blah images that are forced on women and work to encourage and support opinions and voices that are still put in the margins.

And Sometimes Melbourne is always happy to go to other places, like Adelaide.

Write your contibution here.

It can be one moment or lots, or a list or a poem or whatever you want your answer to be.

Bron Batten
Theatre-maker, producer and performer

Bron Batten. Photo by Theresa Harrison

Favourite moments in 2019.
Mine is a rather long list but I saw a lot of great work this year so bear with me. In no particular order I very much enjoyed:

Leah Shelton’s Bitch on Heat, a searing examination of female rage and patriarchal violence.

Gary Abrahams’s epic 33 Variations, featuring a stunning performance from elderly Academy Award–winning Ellen Burstyn, taking up all of the space and eating all of the furniture.

Joshua Ladgrove Presents Melbourne’s Only Bilge Pump Sales Seminar at Melbourne Fringe was the kind of absurd, improvisational and gross brilliance we’ve come to expect from the ex-Neal Portenza.

Lady Example by Alice Dixon, Caroline Meaden and William McBride at Dance Massive proved that contemporary dance can be smart and silly and accomplished all at the same time.

It’s always great to see what Aphids are up to and Mish Grigor’s Exit Strategies at Arts House was no exception.

Back to Back’s The Shadow Whose Prey the Hunter Becomes at Melbourne International Arts Festival proved why they’re one of the most interesting companies working in Australia at the moment.

Images from Emma Hall’s World Problems have stayed with me since I saw it way back in March.

Recently, I saw Children of the Evolution at Due West Festival and it melted even my cold, cynical heart.

I also had the pleasure of witnessing the evolution of Passenger during the UK premiere of the work at the Greenwich and Docklands International Festival in London in June.

Special mention to two of the amazing shows I saw in Edinburgh that aren’t Melbourne based: Belgian company Ontroerend Goed’s Are We Not Drawn Forward To New Era and Sh!t Theatre’s Shit Theatre Drink Rum with Expats. If you get the chance to ever see these two works then please go go go go go.

Looking forward to in 2020.
I’m looking forward to seeing Fun Home again as I wept through the first time I saw it at the Young Vic last year and thus the whole show was rather blurry. I want to finally volunteer to be a part of post’s Oedipus Schmoedipus at Asia TOPA, though I’d also settle for just seeing it again. Oh and Patricia Cornelius’s Do Not Go Gentle... and Stephen Nicolazzo’s Loaded at Malthouse. More big Australian work please.

SM: Bron's Waterloo had its first season at Melbourne Fringe; it's touring next year and if I had any money, I'd follow her like a groupie just to sit in different audiences and see how they react to the show. It's a show about choices and how we judge other people; about being not-as-right-as-we-think-we-are – or as left. Near the end of the night, without any explanation or discussion, she gives the audience a choice to cross a line they would swear they would never cross. Some do. They do it with joy and glee; all it takes is opportunity and silence to cross a line. I'm still thinking about it.

And I'll happily keep seeing Onstage Dating until I see a happy ending.


Claire Glenn
Artistic Director SAYarts, Creative Producer ExpressWay Arts, Theatre Maker, Actor, Lover of theatre and cats.

Claire Glenn. Photo by Sam Oster, Silver Trace

Favourite moments in 2019.
I'm living in Adelaide. I definitely had three favourite theatre moments. The Second Woman: I give endless thanks to Emma Webb for working so hard to bring this to Adelaide. I could only stay for a little over 5 hours but it was EVERYTHING.

Also Femme by Erin Fowler spoke to me on so many levels. Erin is an incredible performer and I loved the honesty of her journey from girlhood to womanhood and what it is to be sexualised in this work. It was so beautiful to be able to spend time with her in the Yurt at the conclusion of the piece.

And £¥€$ by Ontroerend Goed for Oz Asia Festival helped me understand the world of global finance in a way that I don't think I've ever been able to comprehend. Oz Asia in general is my favourite festival in Adelaide and as a whole would be my favourite moment of 2019.

Looking forward to in 2020.
I'm looking forward to the beast that is Adelaide Fringe and finding the gems within the thousands of shows. I'm really looking forward to Rumpus's next season. The 2019 season was so fantastic so I can't wait to see what they program next.

I'm keen for Fire Gardens, Breaking The Waves, Mouth Piece, Dimanche and basically the whole theatre program at Adelaide Festival. I can't wait to see what Oz Asia has lined up. Plus all of the fantastic youth theatre that will created by young people in 2020.

SM: It's sad for us that Claire isn't in Melbourne anymore, but it sure is Adelaide's gain. I still remember her performance in a show back in 2006/07. She now works with young theatre makers in Adelaide and often makes me want to fly over and see the work she's helped create.


Monique Grbec
Sometimes critic, Sometimes Melbournian, Always proud Aboriginal woman

Monique Grbec selfie

Favourite moments in 2019.
Thanks to the absolute privilege of being welcomed into the critic world, I've been fortunate enough to see heaps of incredible theatre this year. So much love and blessings go out to the creative beauties who bared their heart and made me cry and laugh, and see the world from different perspectives.

Five that regularly revisit my thoughts are: Scar Trees, Conversations with the Dead, Gender Euphoria, Blood on the Dance Floor and Barbara and the Camp Dogs.

Special mention to Tales of an Urban Indian, a Canadian show that came out for Yirramboi First Nations Festival. Brutal, ugly and beautiful. Tears still sting when parts of that story re-emerge;  I think it will take me many years to unpack.

Looking forward to in 2020.
My fingers are crossed across my heart with the prospect of heading to Perth for their festival...

SM: I was meant to be with Monique for Tales of an Urban Indian but I had the wrong time in my head; I still regret that. However, she's made sure that I've seen some other amazing shows this year. It may be hard to believe but critics sometimes need to form their own mini community. I read all of her reviews on Witness.

Review: The Temple

The Temple
Malthouse Theatre and Pan Pan
8 May 2019
Beckett Theatre
to 26 May
\malthousetheatre.com.au

The Temple. Photo by Pia Johnson

I went into The Temple knowing as little as I could about it. I left not knowing much more.

But I know a theatre reviewer having a week when they couldn't write would fit in very well on that stage.

The Malthouse co-production with Ireland's Pan Pan theatre ( Playing The Dane, 2011) was developed in rehearsals by director Gavin Quinn and the cast – Aljin Abella, Ash Flanders, Mish Grigor, Marcus McKenzie and Genevieve Giuffre. Guiffre replaced Nicola Gunn who worked on the development.

There's a line where process and on-stage look-at-me indulgence smash together and create art. The Temple does this, but it's far more successful when it fails and collapses into almost incomprehensible chaos.

The Temple is whatever it needs to be. With yellow walls, cheap chairs and a table filled with too-bright cordials to drink (designer Aedín Cosgrove), it could be a church, an addiction meeting, a reality game show or a residential therapy centre. Or whatever you want it to be.

It's every work training session I've been forced to go to, every conference, every bloody yoga retreat I chose to go to, every hope that maybe some intense time with strangers will be fun or enlightening or bearable. They're not. Strangers are the worst. Strangers who know they can be whatever and whoever they want to be without consequences are more the worst.

Each character is a version of the actor. Maybe turned up a lot. Maybe nudged down a smidge. Maybe just without their off switch. Their stories are as likely to be true as they are fiction created by someone else. Their behaviour is at best frustrating, which is often harder to deal with than when they are mean.

It's selfish behaviours without the fear of being cruel. Imagine being able to do what you want and say exactly what you think without the fear of consequence or repercussion? Maybe a reviewer doesn't fit in on that stage.

Drink The Temple Kool-Aid. Even if you don't know the reference. Even if you don't like it or have any idea what it's all about.

What I loved in 2018: The Best of Melbourne Theatre

The most loved shows of 2018 from "What Melbourne Loved" are Morgan Rose's  The Bachelor S17 E5 at La Mama and Blackie Blackie Brown at Malthouse.

Others with a few mentions are Calamity Jane at Arts Centre Melbourne, Lorelei by Victorian Opera and Stephanie Lake's Colossus at Arts Centre Melbourne for Melbourne Fringe.

I only saw two of these – both of which have repeat seasons in 2019. I was out of the country for the The Bachelor, I was seeing another section of the Fringe program and didn't have a spare night for Colossus, and I tried to see Lorelei but it just wasn't going to happen that week. So, can we have return seasons of all three, please.

I've had a quiet year and only saw about 140 shows this year (that I remember – don't ask).

It's been another challenging year for independent media and for arts criticism. Arts journalists have less avenues for work than even last year. Most reviews are still written by volunteers, and I'm astounded at how many people assume that indie sites and publications earn anything.

At times, the quest for star ratings and poster quotes seems more important than creating conversations or encouraging good writing – your audiences are smarter than that. The personal "banning" of critics is an eye roll; most of us have been banned from at least one show this year. And there are even less opportunities for emerging writers to be trained.

My wish for 2019 is that all companies, especially the funded ones, really start encouraging all critical responses to their shows. I've got lots of ideas if you want to talk.


Outstanding Artists 2017


WRITING

Michele Lee for Going Down at Malthouse

Going Down. Photo by Phoebe Powell

Special mention

Mary Ann Butler for Broken by Lab Kelpie at fortyfivedownstairs

Broken by Lab Kelpie

DESIGN

The design team of Blackie Blackie Brown at Malthouse
Elizabeth Gadsby (design),  Oh Yeah Wow (animation and video),Verity Hampson (lighting and projection), Steve Toulmin (composition and sound) and  Emily Johnson (concept artist)

Blackie Blackie Brown. Photo by Phoebe Powell

Special mentions

Bronwyn Pringle (lighting) for Colder at Red Stitch

Eugyeene Teh (set and costumes) for Suddenly Last Summer at Red Stitch

Suddenly Last Summer. Photo by Jodie Hutchinson

PERFORMANCE

Paula Arundell, Brenna Harding, Sophie Ross in The Bleeding Tree at Arts Centre Melbourne

The Bleeding Tree

Special mentions

Nadine Garner in A Little Night Music by Watch This

Virginia Gay in Calamity Jane presented by One Eyed Man Productions, Neglected Mulsicals, Hates Theatre Co and Arts Centre Melbourne at Arts Centre Melbourne

Keep an eye on

Lou Wall –  Romeo is not the only fruit; It's not me, it's Lou; Lou Wall's Drag Race

DIRECTION

Declan Green for Blackie Blackie Brown at Malthouse

Special mentions

Susie Dee for Broken by Lab Kelpie at fortyfivedownstairs

Richard Carroll for Calamity Jane presented by One Eyed Man Productions, Neglected Mulsicals, Hates Theatre Co and Arts Centre Melbourne at Arts Centre Melbourne. The balance of satire, irony and love was perfect.

Virginia Gay as Calamity Jane

EVERYTHING THEY DO ROCKS

post

post. Ich Nibber Dibber. Photo by Jacquie Manning

post are Natalie Rose, Mish Grigor and Zoë Coombs Marr. They formed in Sydney but continue to spend a lot of time in Melbourne. I first saw them in 2009 and have loved seeing their development collectively and as individual artists, even if a Last Tuesday Society appearance is still the first thing I remember. They've appeared in the end-of-year Loveds a lot – cos they are awesome.

Life meant that their bloody wonderful Ich Nibber Dibber at Malthouse didn't get a review from me, but I laughed myself almost sick during it from the moment we saw them floating like angels.


And

EVERYONE at La Mama because it's been a shit year and everyone has been incredible.


Outstanding Productions 2018

MUSICAL

Romeo is not the only fruit  presented by The Furies, Jean Tong and Stephanie-Bowie Liew at MICF

Romeo is not the only fruit

Special mentions

Beautiful: The Carole King Musical
Michael Cassell in association with Paul Blake & Sony/ATV Music Publishing & Mike Bosner

The Dressmaker - a musical adaption developed at Monash University by the Jeanne Pratt Musical Theatre Artists in Residence Program.

I didn't review this because it's still in development; I can't wait to see what happens to it. If it doesn't get a professional production, there's something wrong.

The Dressmaker - a musica adaption. Photo by Sarah Walker

COMEDY

Virgin Bloody Mary by Nadia Collins at MICF

Nadia Collins. Virgin Bloody Mary

Special mentions

Anna Piper Scott and Sophie Joske in Almost Lesbians by Catface Productions at MICF

Almost Lesbians

Fafenefenoiby II: Return of the Ghost Boy by Neal Portenza and no one else even

Neal Portenza. Photo by Richard Watts

Eric The Third – The One Man Sketch Comedy Show by Vicious Fish Theatre at Melbourne Fringe

Scott Gooding as Eric

MUSIC

Mojo Juju, Native Tongue at Arts Centre Melbourne




LIVE ART

All the live art experiences at the Mere Mortals program at Arts House.
Including The Infirmary, Bushland and vigil/wake.

FESTIVAL

Melbourne Writers Festival
Finally a writers festival that celebrates all types of writing and story telling.


BEST OF THE BEST

Lagrime di San Pietro by Los Angeles Master Chorale at Melbourne Festival

Lagrime di San Pietro

Prize Fighter by La Boite Theatre with Darebin Arts Speakeasy at Melbourne Festival

Prize Fighter. Photo by Dylan Evans

The Director by Lara Thoms and Scott Turnball at Arts House in the Mere Mortals program

The Director. Lara Thoms and Scott Tuyrnball. Photo by Bryony Jackson

MY FAVOURITE SHOW OF 2018

Dark Emu by Bangarra Dance Theatre

Dark Emu. Bangarra Dance Theatre

2017
2016
2015

2014
2013

2012

2011 

2010 

2009 

2008 

2007

How to Fringe 2017: Declan Greene

Declan Greene
Writer, director, dramaturg, expert cleaner of pink slime (ask me about Lilith: The Jungle Girl in Edinburgh)
Sisters Grimm
Resident Artist at Malthouse Theatre (Malthouse 2018 season was launched last night) 

SM: My other equally-favourite sister. Our first enounter was Cellblock Booty in 2008.
 

Mink (and Declan Greene)

The Melbourne Fringe in three words.
Tipsy, Wasted, Hungover

A favourite Melbourne Fringe memory
Being asked to do a one-off night at the Fringe Club! It was called Fugly, and was a night of weird alterna-drag starring Art Simone and Olympia Bukkakis – where we also asked three theatre-makers to devise drag acts for the occasion.

Zoe Coombs Marr and Mish Grigor did a reading from Stephen Sewell’s The Boys with poorly-applied facial hair (very proto-Dave), Angus Cerini performed as a female bodybuilder (for which he got a full body-wax and spray tan, though certainly no-one asked him to). But the highlight of the night, for me, was The Rabble’s performance. Mary-Helen Sassman appeared onstage in a bathrobe and fake beard, looking very heavily pregnant, and told a series of increasingly nauseating ‘dead baby’ jokes – then stripped off her robe to reveal that she wasn’t wearing a fake stomach but was, indeed, very, very heavily pregnant... At which point she started thrashing to death metal and finally sang a gorgeous rendition of Odetta’s "Sometimes I Feel Like A Motherless Child". As legend now has it, Mary-Helen stuck around to watch a few more of the acts, then went home early and a few hours later gave birth. Amazing.

SM: I was there for the first half and will never forgive myself for missing MHS.

What is your experience as an independent artist being part of the Melbourne Fringe?
The Fringe Hub is a blurry, blurry world and I’m sure most of what I’ve done there isn’t fit for print.

What makes the Melbourne Fringe unique?
It’s not like Adelaide and Edinburgh where there’s a huge influx of artists from interstate and overseas presenting their work to a new audience. It’s far more localised: an occasion for a bunch of Melbourne’s most brilliant artists to present new work simultaneously, with a sampler of great stuff from out-of-town. And it works because the quality of independent theatre/art in Melbourne is so high anyway. Soooo... *tongue-pop* (I can’t actually do a tongue-pop).

What’s your advice for choosing what to see in the Melbourne Fringe?
Listen to the buzz and book in early instead of waiting until stuff is sold out and you have to beg the artists to stand in their bio box (this is advice I hope to one day take myself). Oh, and see the stuff you’re genuinely curious about – not just the 50 shows you feel obligated to see because you know someone in it. Unless ALL of your friends are amazingly talented (and let’s face it, they’re not). Don’t burn out or have a boring Fringe.

Do you think there’s a better system than star ratings for reviews?
Look, I fucking hate star-ratings as much as any other artist, but a fringe festival environment isn’t where anyone goes for nourishing long-form critical engagement. I think there’s an unspoken amnesty where it’s accepted, generally, that star-ratings are a necessary service for audience members in an open-access environment that’s saturated with art work of varying quality...!

Five shows/events that you will not miss at the 2017 Melbourne Fringe.
Church curated by Mama Alto
Let’s get Practical! Live. Presented by The Very Good Looking Initiative
The One by Jeffrey Jay Fowler
Betty GRUMBLE: Sex Clown Saves the World
One Of The Good Ones. A Blackfella sci-fi exploring race and space

Review: The Talk

The Talk
as part of Site is Set 2015
Field Theory & Mish Grigor
9 September 2015
a house in Brunswick
to 12 September
fieldtheory.com.au

Mish Grigor's The Talk is an exploration of love and sex within her immediate family. But it's not  creepy. It's unexpectedly loving and generous and as funny, embarrassing, awkward, dangerous and brilliant as sex.

As part of Field Theory's Site is Set, a site responsive performance series, she's responded to a family living room with a work about how and why her family have talked about sex in their living room.

It starts in a stranger's living room, where there are cushions on the floor, a fire in the corner and a cat who let me pat him. Mish asks that we stand in for her family (as she says that her real family don't want to see this piece), and with warm Moet and chips, it's not hard to know what it's like to be a Grigor.

It's part verbatim interviews with members of the audience reading the parts of family members, but it's about Mish's response to the interviews, at the time and now. It's intimate and exposing for Mish – I'm still blushing from her lost condom story – but the more the talk is about sex, the less it becomes about sex and becomes about how talking about things we don't want to talk about can lead to the conversations we should have. It's about the kind of love that has nothing to do with sex. I think her family would really like it.

What's remarkable about this style of interactive performance is how the audience experience becomes personal. It often seems like the more a performer reveals about themselves, the more we're free to think about the similar experiences in our own lives. I don't think I've ever left a show thinking about how I talk about sex with my family before. Like the time my mum rang me at work (at work!) to tell me about how she'd broken a drought, the time my mum's friend asked me how you know if you're giving good head, and the time my father's ex told me that he gave her herpes (at his funeral).

Oedipus Shmoedipus diary

Oedipus Shmoedipus
post
9 May 2015
Arts House, North Melbourne Town Hall
to 10 May
melbourne.vic.gov.au

Saturday's ensemble. Photo by James Brown.

Friday night

On Saturday afternoon, five of Melbourne's favourite arts writers and critics are volunteer perfomers in post's Oedipus Shmoedipus at Arts House Melbourne. Each show needs 25 volunteers. All we know is that we'll be doing something about death. It was performed at Belvoir last year, so some people know what they are in for. I haven't read anything about it and am going in blind. But I trust post and if I can't put up my hand to be a part of an independent feminist theatre show, then what good am I as an arts writer!

Joining me will be Richard Watts from Arts Hub and RRR, Cameron Woodhead from The Age, Rohan Shearn from Australian Arts Review and Tim Byrne from Time Out.

Saturday

12.35 am. I wish I were already asleep. Not looking forward to morning alarm but looking forward to whatever we're going to be doing. As long as I don't have to dance, I think I'll be fine. I haven't read any reviews and really don't know what to expect.

8.25. Shit, time to leave but I am awake! 

9.13 We're here. And our special guest surprise from Adelaide is Jane Howard from The Guardian.

 (clockwise) Tim, Myron, Cameron, Rohan, Jane, Me, Richard

4.04 pm You know that nightmare where you're backstage about to go on and you have no idea what you have to do? That's pretty much what performing in Oedipus Schmoedipus was like.

Except it was brilliant and I know that I'm not the only one who would love to do it again tonight.

Each performance uses 26 new volunteers as the chorus to an opus about great white plays about death. We're backstage and can only guess what it's all really about. But I get to see it tonight and understand it as more than nervous fear about my shoe breaking or my skirt being tucked into my knickers.

Our volunteers were a mix of performers and non-performers, but experience didn't seem to make the process any less nerve twitching. After a warm up, everyone was given a number and told to look at a screen above the stage that, we're promised, will tell us what to say and what to do. 

We ran though our parts in the show once, but that's it. 

During lunch, we all knew that few of us could remember much.

The first part of the show is post's Zoe Coombs Marr and Mish Grigor killing each other, many times. Sitting in numbered chairs backstage, all we could hear was the reactions of the audience as we watched the backstage crew getting buckets and mops ready to clean up what must have been litres of blood. 

The first time on stage was as a group, which made it safe and relatively easy, but I really am looking forward to seeing it tonight because two hours later and I'm not sure what we actually did.

Minutes later I had my first solo entrance and this was so like that dream. I really had NO IDEA what I had to do. 

I was fine. The screen told me what to say and then told me to leave. 

I wish I had a screen in real life.

From then on, it was so much fun. The very lovely stage managers told when we had to be ready and the screen told us what to do. It was a bit like karaoke, but more Shakespearean and with dance moves.

Oh yes, there was dancing, including a huge group number where we followed a video of Mish in a pink body suit. 

There was also a surprise for us all – something we weren't expecting – and that moment may have been the most genuine and gloriously wonderful one of the night. As there are still two shows to go, I don't want to give it away.

The last two shows are sold out, but I never believe that sold out means sold out. It's an amazing process and if watching Oedipus Schmoedipus is anywhere near as wonderful as being in it, then it's worth turning up and hoping for no-shows.

Zoe Coombs Marr & Mish Grigor. Photo by Ellis Parrinder

9.57 pm

Wow. WOW! It's impossible to know how powerful this show is from being on the stage.

So much of the volunteer performer process was developed to ensure that the vollies have a positive and fun time; which we did. What we're unaware of is just how these group performances are being made into something bigger and cohesive. The glorious clump of ghosts near the end is a reference to a discussion in the beginning, the lines we read are making a script that can't be see when you're in the middle of it.

And the results of the process are remarkable.

While it's a bit scary on that stage, from the audience side everyone looks like they know exactly what they are doing and that they know their part in the big picture. I heard people in the foyer after the show discussing how well rehearsed the group was; I know they wouldn't have believed me if I'd told them the truth.

Then there's Mish and Zoe's opening: it's confronting and shocking and very very bloody, but funny and somehow welcoming. They die and die and die and it's astonishing.

Sunday
3.32 pm

For volunteers who still want to dance at home. (And perhaps cry a bit.)

Oedipus Schmoedipus is an opus on the great white writers and their words about death (not grief or loss, just the "there rust and let me die" moments), but it's really about the voices that are missing from that opus.

Watching last night, the scene that was a total hoot to perform but pinched a nerve while watching was the costumed dance. The performers are dressed in costumes – named backstage as "tiny pants", "big pants", "Hedda", "skeleton", "cow" etc – from productions of classics. On stage, as everyone dances and spasms, the laughs make it clear that we can't see ourselves anywhere on that stage – it's just people in costumes, which don't especially fit, reflect or suit them, doing what they are being told to do.

For all the delightful, good looking and extremely talented volunteers, this is a work told by young women – women who once might have hoped to play Juliet's nurse, in their 30s – who know they're not the women in these writings (even though they are works that they still love). So they slashed and bled the great white pages to show the silence and demand a voice for those who still struggle to be heard. And they welcome strangers – most of whom don't look or act like actors – onto their stage to let the sounds of those missing voices reach as far as they can.

Shamelessly Glitzy Work

ARTS HOUSE IN AUGUST
Shamelessly Glitzy Work
post
14 August 2009

With sequined curtains, buckets of confetti, lasers and lumpy goop, post’s Shamelessly Glitzy Work is shameless in its glitz and fearless in its attitude.

Zoe Coombs Marr, Mish Grigor and Natalie Rose formed post in 2004, after meeting at Pact Youth Theatre’s imPACT ensemble in Sydney, and haven’t stopped creating since. Their first full length work (Gifted and Talented) won awards at the 2007 Melbourne and Adelaide Fringes and Shamelessly Glitzy Work received Australia Council funding to be developed at a Performance Space residency as their second full length piece.

Post by nature, they start with a touch of ironic postmodernism and post structuralism, but they refuse to define their own genre, which blends installation, dance, monologue and magic. Expect their next work with be post-post.

Shamelessly Glitzy Work sets out to explore lies from mass marketing to drunken declarations, with content ranging from painfully accurate to slightly obvious. The manic aerobics class that morphs into a wet t-shirt competition is unforgettable, and so good that it leaves their discussion of bogans, Barinas and puking feeling a bit too familiar. But their originality and engaging performances more than compensates for any glitches in the glitz.

The show also touches on the relief and excitement of being with “people who get it”. If you love sitting amongst a crowd of others who “get” that theatre can reach beyond the obvious and should be brave enough to experiment whatever the result, keep an eye on post, as we haven’t seen the best of them yet.


This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.