REVIEW: The Heartbreak Club - Thundering Productions, Anywhere Festival

Presented by Thundering Productions

Anywhere Festival – Paint Factory, Yeronga

Written by Kate Paraskevos

Directed by Mikayla Maree Melo

The Heartbreak Club had everything I enjoy in a dark comedy: a terrible man, women comparing stories, and group therapy taking a very illegal turn. Presented by Thundering Productions as part of Anywhere Festival, this new play by Gold Coast playwright Kate Paraskevos takes the bad-ex revenge fantasy of The Other Woman and John Tucker Must Die and lets it spiral from “he is a horrible boyfriend” to “so… are we killing him?”

That premise is instantly juicy. In the depths of a suburban basement, four women gather after being emotionally chewed up and spat out by the same ex-boyfriend. And he absolutely earned the nickname “Rob the Knob.” He is described as a chronic liar, cheater, narcissist, blackmailer, and predator. He hides cruelty inside charm and insults inside compliments. Rob is not physically on stage, but is was absolutely in the room, existing through stories, memories, and the way each woman has been altered by him. That makes him feel less like a man and more like a haunting.

Veronica’s basement is the perfect setting for this particular brand of emotional collapse. With storage boxes, pink couch, washing machine, and household clutter, it is an ordinary family space hijacked by heartbreak and poor impulse control. These women always seem one moment away from hiding evidence beside the Christmas decorations or being interrupted by Veronica's mum asking if anyone wants tea.

The Heartbreak Club begins as a place to heal (or at least to compare emotional damage). Veronica, Tess, and Neve have already built their basement bunker of shared Rob trauma when Claudia, freshly dumped and emotionally bruised, accepts a mysterious invitation to join them. As Claudia adds her own Rob-related horror stories to the pile, the mood shifts from support group to vigilante committee. So, naturally, the group lands on the only reasonable next step. Rob “the Knob” must die. It is all very “he had it coming” energy if the Cell Block Tango ladies had a whiteboard, more snacks, and less choreography.

Written by a woman (of course), Kate Paraskevos' script is a strong new piece of writing. It takes a familiar revenge-comedy premise and gives it more bite, folly, and female rage. It is funny, but it also has a bruised tenderness underneath it. The script works so well because it understands that heartbreak is rarely just heartbreak. Sometimes it is embarrassment, fury, grief, confusion, and the horrifying realisation that you let someone rewire your confidence, your instincts, your interests, and your sense of self. One of the lines that stayed with me was, “Rob’s interests became my interests,” because it says so much with so little. It conveys the dreadful experience of losing yourself to someone who never deserved such access to you, along with the annoying recognition of how much of yourself was altered without your consent.

What makes the play work so well is that it is never really about Rob. He is the shadow over the play, but the real story is the friendships formed in the crater he left behind. It is about the strange, giddy relief of finding people who understand the exact shape of your hurt. These women recognise their pain in each other, not as competition, but as proof. Proof they are not dramatic, not stupid, not alone. That validation comes with a spinning moral compass attached. One minute they are sliding from “he deserves consequences” into “so, hypothetically, how hard is it to poison a protein shake?” The Heartbreak Club finds the humor in that slide, then pushes it into murkier territory, asking where the line sits between justice, revenge, and wanting someone gone for good.

Each of the four women brings a different flavour of Rob-related damage to the club. Candice Jean gives Veronica a grounded, brooding authority as the mastermind of the club. She is still, watchful, and organised, with the unnerving calm of someone who has a plan. In the open-space venue, I did need a little more vocal projection from her at times, as some of her lines were lost. Even so, her restraint suits Veronica well, heightening the character's resolve and concealed past.

Sophie Lawson plays Tess as the club’s sharp, resident tech sleuth. Every revenge group needs someone who can dig online, connect the dots, and collect the receipts. Tess has the practicality of a woman who could turn emotional damage into a full spreadsheet if she wanted. Lawson keeps her grounded and purposeful, helping the group’s increasingly terrible ideas move with alarming efficiency, even when that direction is legally unwise.

Cassie Baan is an absolute scene-stealer as Neve, the club’s chaos goblin. She operates at an energy level that suggests her inside thoughts have never once stayed inside. Chatty, unfiltered, and overly friendly, she seems like she's walked straight in from a Melissa McCarthy comedy (then convinces you to help hide a body). Baan’s comic timing is brilliant, but beneath Neve’s absurdity sits bitterness, hurt, and a very specific kind of post-breakup madness.

Samantha McClurg portrays Claudia with an especially intriguing emotional arc. Claudia arrives bruised, hesitant, and still close enough to Rob’s damage to feel the pull of it. She is the sweet and sensitive newcomer, but she is not simple. Through Claudia, the play explores the messy overlap of love, harm, longing, shame, and the horrible little voice that still wonders if you were the problem. Claudia could have just been the audience’s entry point into the plot, but McClurg makes her one of the most compelling parts of the story.

Then there is Jack Lovett as Elliot, Veronica’s brother and fellow adult still living at home. His dynamic with Veronica has that sibling rhythm of teasing, eye-rolling, and knowing exactly how to be supportive while still being deeply annoying. They mock each other like professionals, but the affection underneath is clear, giving the play a lovely bit of warmth among all the murder chat. Lovett also brings a sweet awkwardness to Elliot’s crush on Claudia, especially while Neve makes it extremely clear she would like to be considered for the role of Elliot's love interest instead.

Director Mikayla Maree Melo shapes the production with a strong sense of momentum and tonal balance. The play juggles heartbreak, comedy, paranoia, moral debate, and a touch of whodunnit, and Melo keeps it sharp and cohesive. As secrets unravel and suspicion sparks among the women, the mood tips into (as Shaggy once said) "it wasn’t me” territory, with red herrings, rapidly deteriorating trust, and an ending that gave me exactly the satisfaction I wanted without flattening the thrill of getting there.

The venue did its own little lighting cues. At Paint Factory, Yeronga, the early part of the show was still exposed to the natural light around us, which meant the actors could see us in the audience for much of the first act. That could have been distracting, but it actually felt fitting, as if we had been pulled into the cheeky basement meeting too. As the light outside darkened, the atmosphere shifted with it. The stage lighting became harsher and more focused, and the play’s darker instincts came forward at exactly the right time.

That said, the venue did bring its own practical hurdles. Sound from nearby performances will always drift in and pull focus at The Paint Factory, and some dialogue needed a little more volume to carry across the open space. But the bones of the production were strong, and in a tighter theatre or comedy club, this piece could really fly. I could also see a future staging having a lot of fun with Tess’s digital detective work, bringing in text messages, screenshots, maps, and photos as projections to heighten the experience. I mean, if you are going to make a murder plan, you may as well make it multimedia, right?

At 90 minutes with a short interval, the show held its shape well. It never felt like it was stretching one joke past its breaking point. The comedy kept landing well, but the real sting came from the tenderness underneath. The Heartbreak Club was dark comedy, absolutely, but it was also catharsis. A play that understood how one person can walk through multiple lives like a wrecking ball (and enjoy doing it), and the strange relief of finding people who help you feel less alone among the same wreckage.

The Heartbreak Club is funny, sharp, thrilling, and emotionally satisfying. It is a strong new Australian script with a fantastic premise, a distinct voice, and characters I would happily watch again. If you have ever had a shitty ex like Rob "the Knob", this one may feel a little too familiar.

And if you have not?

Lucky you. Keep it that way.