REFLECTION: The First Twenty - Queensland Theatre Company

I spent a full day at Queensland Theatre immersing myself in their free play readings and artist workshops, and honestly, it fed my creative soul in ways I did not even know I needed. Thank you to everyone involved. It felt like being handed a backstage pass to the future of Australian theatre. If they run The First Twenty again, I will be lining up at the door before they even unlock it.

Kitty Cleans Up – By Maxine Mellor

Directed by Sanja Simić

This reading kicked off the day with an absolute bang. Kitty Cleans Up was a very Aussie, very funny whodunnit that explored the delightfully mundane world of house cleaning... and murder! Kitty, a no-nonsense mature-aged cleaner with the driest delivery, visits a regular client with her grandson Jet in tow. Jet is the picture of youthful disinterest, more invested in avoiding work than making an earning. When they stumble upon piles of cash hidden throughout the apartment and then find the actual dead body of Mr Madden in the study, the audience collectively leaned forward like we had just been handed popcorn. Then, a heavily pregnant stranger walks in claiming to be the dead man’s daughter, and from that moment onwards the twists just kept coming.

Kitty had a wonderfully unfiltered sass, the kind of old broad who had lived long enough to stop caring about being polite. Maxine Mellor’s writing was sharp, playful, and wonderfully self-aware. The whole thing carried the tone of Only Murders in the Building if it had been plonked straight into suburban Brisbane. I left the reading already craving the next instalment of this delightfully messy mystery!

Light – By Vidya Makan and Tasnim Hossain

Even though we only saw three scenes and three songs of this musical-in-progress, Light already felt like the groundwork for something big, heartfelt, and culturally rich. It opens with a joyous ensemble number about community, connection, and the juggling act of everyday expectations. The music had a gorgeous percussive pulse running through it and, even though we were hearing recordings, you could feel the energy rippling through the room. The FMC’s solo is a beautifully grounded piece about the heavy responsibility of running her family’s medical clinic while still holding space for her own inner world. It was honest, tender, and instantly recognisable for anyone who had grown up around family businesses or inherited expectations. Jay’s solo, sung while he delivers UberEats (an international student trying to make ends meet), was cheeky with the quiet ache of someone caught between survival mode and ambition.

Tonally, the whole piece hit that perfect sweet spot of Indian-family dramedy: blunt, warm, culturally specific, and deeply self-aware. I loved the way it blended ancient mythologies and gods with modern anxieties, adding a sense of magic and timelessness to what was, at its heart, a very human story. Even in this early state, the creative chemistry between Vidya Makan and Tasnim Hossain is undeniable. The writing was sharp and sincere, the music was catchy and rhythmically exciting, and the world-building felt both specific and universal. Something truly exciting is brewing here, and I can't wait to see where Light goes next.

Aurochs – By Kathryn Marquet

Directed by Daniel Lammin

This one absolutely fascinated me. Bold, original, and quietly devastating, Aurochs unravelled the tangled history between humans and cattle, tracing our relationship across centuries like a living, breathing tapestry of ethics, survival, power, and consequence. I loved how Kathryn Marquet designed the narrative to move backwards through time, an incredibly clever choice that allowed each scene to reframe the one before it.

We begin in 2067, with the world buckling under a future crisis of beef production, the kind of speculative fiction that does not require much speculation at all. From there, we jump to the 1980s and the panic of mad cow disease, then further back to the rise of industrialised beef production around the turn of the century. Next is the pre-American Civil War era, where issues of labour, class, and human cruelty intersect sharply with the treatment of cattle. Finally, we arrive in the 1600s and the extinction of the aurochs, the enormous wild ancestors of modern cattle. In this reading, we only visited the pre-American Civil War era, but I could already feel that the play will nudge the same quiet question in every period. How did we get here, and what have we learned?

We met several characters. Charlotte was all fire and fury, railing against injustice with a conviction like she could drop into any century and still be wrestling with the exact same systems. Mary possessed a grounded, wise leadership as a former-suffragette, making her the emotional anchor of the scenes. Then there was Robert, a stuttering, nervous wreck attempting to confront the "big cheese" about the terrible conditions of the cows supplying milk to New York City (and ultimately poisoning the infants). There were so many great lines sprinkled throughout the reading, however “Fight for what you believe in, but do not lose your kindness” lodged itself firmly in my chest. The idea that advocacy without compassion becomes another form of violence.

Stylistically, Aurochs never felt like a lecture, even though it tackled slavery, animal cruelty, capitalism, and ecological collapse. Instead, it felt like a deep exploration of how humans justify harm, how systems swallow us whole, and how our actions ripple endlessly forward or, in this case, backward. By the end, I was completely hooked. It was one of those readings where you could feel the potential radiating off the pages. This was only a taste, a sliver, a doorway into a much bigger world. I am genuinely desperate to see the full version one day because this reading only scratched the surface.

No Need To Hide A Light When It Shines Like Hers – By Matthew Whittet

This reading was adorable, chaotic, and heartfelt. Ada Lukin as Connie brought an excitable, nervous, slightly over-caffeinated energy that felt so true to young adults on the edge of big decisions. She had a comedic stutter in her delivery that hit just the right amount of “my brain is sprinting faster than my mouth can catch up!" Siena D’Arienzo as Grace was the perfect gentle counterpart. Where Connie fidgeted and spiralled, Grace floated around like the calm centre of the storm. She was serene, composed, a little clueless in a charming way, and unfailingly loyal. Together, Ada and Siena captured the dynamics of the friendship with such honesty: the comfort, the magnetism, the breathless confessions of every terrifying thought you cannot hold inside.

I loved how sincerely the play explored identity through the world of physie and competitive dance, especially in a world where kids are often funnelled into paths chosen for them before they have a chance to find their own passions. Instead, we watch Connie realise that dance feels more like an obligation, while singing begins to feel like a true calling. The story deepens once Connie starts confronting questions about her absent father. Her decision to track him down leads to an awkward, strangely sweet meeting with Derek, played by Stephen Hirst. He is a gifted musician, socially strange, unexpectedly tender, and apparently... believe he is a werewolf? His quirks could have tipped into caricature, but Stephen balanced them so well that he became genuinely sympathetic. Their scenes together were some of my favourites, a mix of cringe, sweetness, and a surprising mutual understanding that neither of them quite know how to articulate yet.

This reading slotted perfectly into the wave of YA stories I have been loving this year: Katie is a Marker-Sniffing Lesbian, Dance Nation, The Virgin-mobile, Tell Me Something, Blue. All these works capture the messy, bright, emotionally honest landscape of coming of age. By the end of the reading, I felt fully invested in Connie’s journey. I wanted to know what would happen when she tried singing. I wanted to see how Grace supported her. I wanted more Derek weirdness. I wanted Connie’s mum in the mix. I wanted the physie championships. If this becomes a full production, I will be there immediately because I am already wildly attached to these characters.

The Light in the Sahara – By Lewis Treston

Directed by Sanja Simić

This two-hander was a massive highlight for me. It was the kind of piece that sneaks up with its humour and then suddenly blindsides you with emotional honesty. The play begins with a jarring and oddly funny moment: Boomer, her colleague, has died from a sudden heart attack. She calls her son from the wake, and the story launches into a wonderfully surreal journey that bounces between wanderlust, existential dread, and the kind of mother-son relationship that probably needs therapy but settles for a holiday instead.

From the moment Christine O’Leary opened her mouth as the "mother", the audience was completely hers. She had that glorious Kath Day-Knight energy, the perfect mix of loveable dagginess, misplaced confidence, and an unshakeable belief that she was coping just fine even when she absolutely was not. She was instantly hilarious, instantly familiar, and instantly endearing. Her "son", played with a warm blend of exasperation and affection, asked his mum where she would go if she could travel anywhere in the world. She chose the Sahara, of all places, and suddenly we were swept into a bizarre and blackly comic adventure.

"The world just got so loud one day" felt like the kind of line that summed up midlife burnout, modern overstimulation, and unspoken emotions with painful accuracy. "I cannot talk her out of an existential crisis when I am going through one myself" had the room laughing while quietly nodding in understanding. One of my favourite parts of the experience was seeing Lewis Treston in the audience absolutely cracking up at his own lines. For a two-hander, this felt surprisingly expansive, a reminder that you do not need a large cast to tell a big story. You only need two excellent actors, a sharp script, and a whole lot of humanity. I would see a full production of this in a heartbeat.

WORKSHOPS

Scene One: A Director’s Guide – With Dr Benjamin Schostakowski

This workshop was a little treasure chest of directing wisdom. Dr Benjamin Schostakowski, from NIDA has this calm, grounded confidence about him that makes every word feel like something you want to scribble down immediately.

A few tips that I noted:

• Meet the play first. Read the original version, do the research, immerse yourself in its history. Do not squash your concept onto it before it has had a chance to speak to you.

• The first read-through is sacred. No interruptions, no intellectualising, no “what if we…” ideas. Just absorb it.

• Hold onto the lure. That initial spark you felt when you first connected with the play is the anchor you return to when things get messy or confusing.

• Slow read equals facts and questions. Do a slower read next and let the text show you what it contains. Write a column of facts and a column of questions. The questions become a collaborative journey you take with your actors.

• Active analysis. Get up on your feet, improvise, explore, encourage autonomy. Let actors bring forward their own ideas.

• Break scenes by events, not tiny beats. Focus on the major shifts, the big "ball game change" moments.

It was such a generous and practical (albeit short!) session. I left with a full page of notes and a clearer sense of how I might approach directing if I ever step into that role again.

Staying Present in the Creative Storm – With Emily Burton

Emily Burton approached nerves, fear, perfectionism, and burnout with so much compassion that you could feel the whole room exhale a little. She shared somatic tools that were simple but powerful. The butterfly taps on the chest, the grounding breaths, the literal shaking of the body. She encouraged us to find our personal version of safety, whether that is music, movement, a mantra, a pet, a person, or something else.

I appreciated how honest she was about the relentless schedules artists face. She reminded us that when the stress response cannot complete its cycle, it just keeps building until the body shuts down in whatever way it can: sleep, digestion, anxiety, exhaustion. We need to close the stress cycle so your nervous system knows the “threat” is over each day. Her workshop felt like a loving interruption to that spiral, a reminder that recovering from stress is a skill we must practice, not something that magically happens on its own.

Nurturing Your Creative Practice – With Dr Margi Brown-Ash

This was the most soothing, reflective way to end the day. Dr Margi Brown-Ash spoke with the kind of soft authority that instantly made the space feel safe and warm. We moved through meditation, creative journaling, gentle movement, and the idea of building a personal creative sanctuary. I loved the encouragement to think about where all our artistic selves live. What does our creative space look like when it is curated with intention? What does it need to contain so that we feel held, energised, and open? It felt like a permission slip to slow down and check in with ourselves, to nourish rather than constantly produce. After a full day of new ideas and buzzing inspiration, this workshop felt like a deep breath.

FINAL THOUGHTS

I walked out of Queensland Theatre absolutely buzzing. The readings were diverse, bold, funny, moving, and bursting with potential. The workshops cracked open parts of my artistic brain that had been sleeping for months, and I felt genuinely recharged in a way I had not expected. The whole day reminded me why I adore this community. The generosity, the curiosity, the excitement for new work, the willingness to share knowledge and hold space for emerging ideas; exactly the kind of accessible creative offering Brisbane needs more of.