REVIEW: Spring Awakening – Gold Coast Little Theatre

Spring Awakening – Gold Coast Little Theatre

Warnings: Mature themes, explicit sexual content, abuse, sexual assault, abortion, suicide, coarse language.

“The lost still walk behind you.”

Adapted from Frank Wedekind’s groundbreaking and controversial play, Steven Sater and Duncan Sheik’s Spring Awakening is a rock musical that remains hauntingly relevant. Set in conservative Germany in 1891, the narrative follows a group of young teens as they grapple with the mysteries of the birds and the bees (without Google to help back then!) Among them are Melchior, a headstrong young man with self-taught knowledge of all sexual matters; Wendla, an innocent and curious girl; and the deeply anxious Moritz, who is struggling with both academics and sexual fantasies. These poor kids attempt to navigate puberty while being crushed beneath religious morality, strict schooling, and inherited shame. This leads to a compelling exploration of sexual awakening, repression, and the tragic consequences of adult neglect and ignorance.

Nathan French’s direction makes excellent use of the space, with frequent split staging allowing multiple emotional realities to coexist onstage. The raised rear platform, ladders, rigid frames, and moving set pieces — designed by Andrew Kassab — are adorned with vines and autumnal leaves, creating a striking visual contrast between natural growth and imposed restraint. The set functions as playground, prison, and battleground all at once.

Georgia Ogge’s choreography prioritises emotional truth over spectacle. Movement is often restrained and deliberate, or suddenly explosive when repression finally cracks. Combat and intimacy are handled carefully, supported by Jocelyn Moore-Carter’s intimacy coordination; an essential safety net in a production requiring this level of vulnerability.

The production uses recorded tracks rather than a live band, which proves a practical choice, with vocal direction by Taylor Holmes. That flexibility became crucial on opening night, as Jack Flanagan (Melchior) was required to project heavily through microphone issues for much of Act One. Despite this, his performance never faltered. His opening solo, “All That’s Known,” immediately showcases a stunning, controlled voice and an effortless, natural acting presence. Flanagan possesses this rare combination of vocal beauty and emotional truth (particularly impressive for an 18-year-old performer) and he anchors the production with beautiful sincerity and depth.

From the moment the boys appear in Latin class, rigid with fear before their professor, the male ensemble threatens to steal the show. There is an undeniable je ne sais quoi to this ensemble that is magnetic to watch. “The Bitch of Living” explodes with raw teenage frustration, desire, and torment. Each boy brings a distinct vocal colour, united by the pressure to succeed in a system stacked cruelly against them. Jolan Walker is excellent as the harsh authority figure, belittling Moritz with chilling realism.

Emerson Bell’s Wendla is heartbreakingly believable. “Mama Who Bore Me” (the one song I knew going in) is delivered with pure, childlike curiosity, perfectly capturing a girl in bloom with no understanding of what her body is becoming. Olivia French, as Wendla’s conservative mother, embodies the damage caused by adult discomfort. When Wendla asks how babies are made, all she can offer is, “A woman must love her husband a lot.”

Moments of humour and levity arrive through “My Junk,” where the cast become giddy over what seem like absurdly small curiosities: a girl’s stockings, a boy who’s good at maths. The girls soar through tight five-part harmonies, sweet and girlish in their fascination, while the boys are far more physical. Andrew Kassab’s Hanschen is particularly memorable, hiding in the bathroom reading what he uses as erotica (it absolutely is not). “Touch Me” shifts the tone into something slower and more sensual, with Alex Holmes leading powerfully as Georg.

Flanagan and Bell share a beautifully staged “The Word of Your Body,” choreographed with slow, tender touch and bathed in soft lighting. Notably, the pair never make eye contact; reinforcing that this intimacy exists in fantasy rather than reality. Bell continues to impress later in “Whispering,” a stunning number that lands with particular clarity if seated stage right.

Ziggy Dutfield’s Moritz is utterly captivating: awkward, endearing, and quietly funny at first. “And Then There Were None” is delivered with extraordinary vocal power and emotional precision (a Broadway performer reincarnated?) Please know that I wanted to cheer, but the scene ends too abruptly to allow for it!

Crushed by academic failure, parental brutality, and sexual shame, Moritz begs for escape. Jolan Walker’s portrayal of Moritz’s father is genuinely distressing, screaming him into a fetal position. Dutfield and Chloe Smith's pairing in “Don’t Do Sadness / Blue Wind” offers a fleeting sense of nostalgia — of childhood, spring, and summer — before anger and despair overwhelm Moritz once more. The poetic lyricism allows both performers to explore yearning and loss with heartbreaking honesty.

Laila Chequer De Souza’s Martha brings the show firmly to real-o’clock with “The Dark I Know Well.” As she reveals ongoing abuse by her father, the lighting turns red, the men close in, and her voice shifts from pain to rage, with a flicker of strength breaking through. Chloe Smith as Ilse joins her, offering solidarity, shared resilience, and a stunning vocal tone. Andrew Kassab and Nate Purdy are wonderful as Hanschen and Ernst; delicate, tender, and sincere in their portrayal of young queer love. Their scenes feel softly revolutionary within this rigid world.

Lighting Designer Ben Vlasich uses intense green lighting patterns to support Wendla and Melchior’s encounter (where she asks him to strike her so she can “feel something” WHAT), causing a sense of unease, power imbalance, and dangerous curiosity. “I Believe” requires enormous bravery from the leads in that spotlight, and both meet the moment with courage and trust. Later, “Mirror-Blue Night” transforms the stage into a swirling, mirror-ball wash of light.

Despite the heaviness of Act Two, “Totally Fucked” offers a brief, riotous release. Flanagan climbs into the audience, the ensemble swing from ladders, throw leaves, and gleefully flip us off. This musical often feels like Sex Education... if it were set in 1891 Germany and stripped of any adult guidance whatsoever....

Speaking of, the adult world, portrayed by just two actors (Olivia French and Jolan Walker), fails these children at every turn. Religious rigidity, institutional cruelty, and forced silence culminate in devastating consequences. Wendla’s realisation (spoiler) — “I’m going to bear a child?! But I’m not married?” — lands with chilling innocence. Emerson Bell is strong throughout, but this moment (and the ones following) could be pushed even further into theatrical drama/horror. “Left Behind” rips the heart out of the room, with Walker’s anguished cries echoing with very real levels of grief. “Those You’ve Known” draws us fully into sorrow, with Flanagan delivering one of the most emotionally raw moments of the night.

Spring Awakening at Gold Coast Little Theatre is bold, emotionally devastating, and deeply human. It asks difficult questions and refuses easy answers. Sit in the front row if you dare — you may leave with fog, spit, sweat, tears, and leaves on you — but you will leave changed.

Highly recommended for mature audiences who are ready to listen.