Title: An Evening on Broadway: Reversing the Roles! Presented By: Introspect Theatre Company Genre: Musical Theatre Cabaret Synopsis: The newest instalment in Introspect’s Evening on Broadway series, Reversing the Roles! encourages performers to step outside their traditional casting types to perform songs and roles they would not normally get the opportunity to play. Celebrating authenticity, creativity, and joy, this high-energy cabaret aims to break traditional casting boundaries and create an entertaining, collaborative performance experience for both cast and audience. Audition Date: Sunday 31 May 2026 Audition Time: Individual audition slots (times allocated upon registration) Audition Location and Address: University of Queensland – St Lucia Campus Audition Self-Tape Due (if applicable): Sunday 31 May 2026 at midnight Audition Requirements: Please prepare: One song (up to 2 minutes) outside your traditional casting type or comfort zone One contrasting song (up to 2 minutes) showcasing your abilities A short dance call (sent via email before auditions) MC applicants must also prepare a monologue up to 1 minute Video submissions must be accessible via shared link Audition Registration: https://forms.gle/6W1pFbarYz38ULTHA Audition Pack: https://drive.google.com/file/d/13o_f6XW7JiLMq2uohNVBGGd2D1iFvna- Performance Dates: Early September 2026 (exact dates TBC) Performance Location: Thirsty Chiefs Brewery, North Lakes Rehearsal Dates: Commencing Sunday 7 June 2026 Rehearsal Times: Wednesdays: 7:00pm – 10:00pm, Sundays: 5:00pm – 8:00pm Performer Age: 18+ Creative Team: Director/Writer: Lily Chippendale Music Director: Ashlie Beauchamp Choreographer: Antoni Torrisi Stage Manager: Cameron Grimmett Production Website: https://www.introspecttheatreco.com.au/eob-auditions/ Other information: Tech/Dress rehearsals (compulsory attendance): Wednesday 26 August 2026, 6:00pm – 10:00pm Sunday 30 August 2026, 10:00am – 5:00pm Wednesday 2 September 2026, 6:00pm – 10:00pm Successful cast members must purchase an Introspect Theatre Company membership ($60) Available Roles/Character Breakdown: Performers — Singers, dancers, and musical theatre performers for solos, duets, and group numbers. Strong movers and engaging performers encouraged. Audience interaction and collaborative choreography involved. MCs (2 roles) — Performers acting as hosts throughout the cabaret while also participating in musical numbers. Strong acting, improvisation, and audience engagement skills desired.

Title: A Drop Too Many Presented By: Maxi Mossman / Backbone Festival Genre: Physical & Visual Theatre Synopsis: A Drop Too Many is a multidisciplinary physical and visual theatre work exploring Australian stories of hardship and joy connected to natural disasters. Combining verbatim storytelling, poetry, movement, and visual theatre, the production examines droughts, floods, grief, resilience, and the power of community across rural and urban Australia. Originally presented as a site-responsive work, this redevelopment reimagines the production for a blackbox theatre setting. Audition Date: Saturday 16 May 2026 Audition Time: 9:00am – 12:00pm Audition Location and Address: Backbone, 28 Tallowwood Street, Seven Hills QLD 4170 Audition Requirements: Prepare an environmentally-themed text piece (maximum 2 minutes), such as a monologue, poem, news article, verbatim text, or song lyrics. Examples here Auditionees should demonstrate thoughtful and experimental use of movement, be prepared to collaborate and devise in a group setting, and wear clothing suitable for movement work. Audition Registration:Applications close 9:00am Monday 11 May 2026 https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSedNXpWiynfD_lj26ourROsDUUqq32mysflCmvkEP3Nczblvw/viewform Audition Pack: Available via the application form and project materials Performance Dates: Between 1–17 October 2026 (3 performances as part of Backbone Festival) Rehearsal Dates: Creative Development: 29–30 May 2026 and 5–6 June 2026 Rehearsal Period: July – October 2026 Warnings: This production contains: Stylised and physically demanding movement Themes relating to natural disasters Psychological trauma Loss and grief Use of materials such as water and dirt during creative exploration Creative Team: Lead Creative / Director / Designer: Maxi Mossman Sound Designer: Andrew Oxford Lighting Designer: Caleb Bartlett Vision Designer: Lani Dwyer Other information: Seeking an ensemble of 4–5 performers Particularly encouraging movers, actors, dancers, and circus artists with strong movement backgrounds Profit-share opportunity Successful applicants must be available for all rehearsals, tech days, and performances Audition notifications sent Tuesday 12 May 2026 Enquiries: maximossman@gmail.com

Three Little Words Ad Astra | Pluto Theatre Written by Joanna Murray-Smith Director: Greg Scurr Assistant Director: Ellen Hardisty Stage Manager: Kat Coomber Sound Design: Greg Scurr and Peter Eades Lighting Design: Daniel Endicott Set Design: Greg Scurr Fight and Intimacy Coordinator: NJ Price Costume Assistant: Eleanora Ginardi Production Assistant: Sarah Speller “The whole world sees us as one thing.” After seeing Three Little Words, I'm now more certain than ever that I should never get married. Seriously, if there's one thing I learned (aside from what a tantalus is), it's that couples should be obligated to go to marriage counselling before attempting to assemble IKEA furniture together. Minor spoilers ahead. Joanna Murray-Smith’s Three Little Words has landed in the cosy Pluto Theatre at Ad Astra in Petrie Terrace. The married pairs of Tess and Curtis, and Bonnie and Annie, are seasoned friends who fit neatly into each other’s lives. That is, until Tss and Curtis decide to shake up their 20th anniversary celebration by announcing three little words that blow the evening apart: "We're splitting up". Suddenly, the once rock-solid stability of everyone involved begins to wobble. The set, designed by director Greg Scurr, keeps us boxed inside the characters’ world. With brick walls, modern artwork, a full bookshelf, a dining table, a bar trolley and ample alcohol, the space slowly devolves from a stylish dinner party into emotional warfare. As our merry band of characters gets tipsier by the minute (and very convincingly act so), their etiquette and understanding fly out the window. In the eye of the storm is Julie Cotterell as Tess, a book publisher who is highly articulate even while drunk, spiralling, or uprooting her life on what feels dangerously close to a whim. Tess explains how she has moved from the role of a daughter, then a wife, then a mother... And now she is stuck inside an identity crisis so large that she starts swinging it at everyone around her. She talks a big game about desiring freedom, but cannot properly express what she wants. This duality makes her character simultaneously fascinating and frustrating, hypocritical and sometimes just plain mean; and Cotterell never sands down those jagged edges. She starts off looking groomed and composed but by the end, she is giving off feral goblin energy. Cameron Hurry is superb as Curtis, Tess’s seemingly supportive husband (or at least pretending to be). Since the character is a teacher, Hurry captures that trained instinct to keep calm, absorb, encourage, and put on a brave face, even as the ground is disappearing beneath him. There is an easy awkwardness to his humour that makes Curtis unexpectedly endearing, which caught me off guard because I found myself thinking, “Wait, am I sympathising with a man here?!” Hurry plays the early restraint beautifully, letting Curtis’s hurt leak out before the dam finally gives way. And that slow release predicts his eventual messiness still to come... because nobody gets to stay on the morally high ground in this play for long. Hurry and Cotterell are particularly gripping (and vicious) in their final scene together, where the polite wreckage of their marriage becomes a full war of the spouses. Years of resentment are pulled out and sharpened - earnings, intellect, ownership, self worth - are all dragged into the fight. Cotterell and Hurry (and fight coordination by NJ Price) handle the scene with the kind of trust and rigour that makes it appear believably dangerous. Every insult lands like it has been waiting years for permission. Luckily, they never really turn their teenage daughter into a weapon, because by that point I was starting to see a little too much of my own childhood in the room. The focus stays on the adults and their collapsing sense of self, which is painful enough. As Annie, Bianca Butler Reynolds is sweet-natured, passive, and quietly wounded in a way that sneaks up on you. Annie seems like the fun and softer presence in the group, but Reynolds allows us to see the little fractures underneath. She has a lovely lightness on stage, never overplaying when Annie is hurt, which makes it all the more impactful. Nicola Jayne (NJ) Price as Bonnie is cool as a cucumber on the outside, but that calm is not emptiness. Price gives Bonnie a deliciously composed presence, all sharp eyes, sharper wit, and the kind of confidence that can make a room behave. Bonnie is observant, stylish, and capable of slicing through everyone else’s nonsense with brazen honesty. Her explanation of a mid-life crisis is marvellous: the boredom, the discontent, the self-sabotage, the desperate reach for some “spiritual awakening.” Bonnie is here to tell you that what waits on the other side is not enlightenment, but a barren battlefield. Together, Price and Reynolds make Bonnie and Annie’s relationship just as compelling as the louder collapse happening beside them. Their dynamic is like a well-worn pair of mismatched socks: comfortable but just a tad prickly. They begin as the couple observing the disaster, reacting, gossiping, judging; but of course they are not safe either. Tess and Curtis think their split will be civil and sensible. Bonnie and Annie think they are only witnesses. Everyone is wrong. Everybody's strong acting abilities made me believe these people have indeed been tangled up in each other’s lives for twenty years. It is in the body language, the shared memories, and even the story of how Tess and Curtis first met, which has the looseness of a tale retold too many times at dinner parties. That history makes Bonnie and Annie’s position in the fallout especially messy as they become like the children of the separation, stuck between two parents who keep pulling them aside to talk about the other. Bonnie and Annie listen, report back, swap loyalties, and give some dreadful advice. I love that Joanna Murray-Smith’s writing never hands us a clean side to stand on. People say cruel things while trying to sound enlightened. They ask for freedom while demanding control. They insist they are not clichés while walking directly into cliché-shaped potholes. I also appreciate that the play does not pretend Tess’s chase for selfhood comes with any easy answers. Singlehood does not magically fix Tess. From where I’m sitting, it looks more like another room with different wallpaper and the same unresolved problems. Director Greg Scurr and Assistant Director Ellen Hardisty handle all the overlapping dialogue, rapid emotional pivots, and boiling tension. The blocking keeps the room active, with no one ever quite able to escape each other. The production earns so much from subtle acting choices: fiddling with wedding rings, flinching at a touch, drinks poured aggressively, and hair/clothing that become neglected. The backing music gives the scenes a neat little pulse between domestic implosions. On the night I attended, the lighting system was clearly having issues, so I do not feel I can properly comment on Daniel Endicott’s design beyond noting that the red-toned world of the play still gave the room an appropriately heated edge. I am not exactly the target demographic here: 30, unmarried, and very happy to go home to my cats. But I understand separation. I understand the heartache of being blindsided, and I understand how one person’s “fresh start” can become everyone else's heartbreak. Nonetheless, I really enjoyed it, and the audience around me was completely engaged too as we chuckled, gasped, or sat in astonished silence. I kept looking at my friends for their reactions like we were watching a particularly thrilling reality show. I laughed, winced, sympathised, and judged, often within the same scene. So, I’m not even sure whether to classify it as a comedy or a drama at this point. It feels more like a dinner party where everyone should have just left two wines earlier. Three Little Words pokes at marriage, friendship, identity, compromise, the quiet resentments people swear they are fine about, and Ad Astra lets us sit right in the awkward, wine-soaked middle of it.

Walking through the rainbow door of Thank God You’re Queer, I immediately thought, “Okay, this is either going to be brilliant or super difficult to review without mentioning the word dildo.” Turns out, it was both. Brought to you by Brisbane Powerhouse in partnership with Second Beat Productions and Big Fork Theatre, this improv show took the popular format of Thank God You’re Here, added a splash of queer chaos, and turned it into a competition to crown Brisbane’s Best Ally. The show was held in the big tent at Brisbane Powerhouse during the Brisbane Comedy Festival. I'm really hoping it returns for the Melt Festival because I arrived late, having been outside awkwardly shouting at Will Gibb from my scooter, letting him know I'm a fan. I grew up watching Thank God You’re Here on TV and absolutely loved the thrill of seeing someone walk through a door with no idea what they were walking into. This version kept that same panic, but gave it a sharper, queerer, more unhinged twist. The setup was a showdown between a queer cast and a straight cast, with the straight guest improvisers tossed into scenes based on audience-submitted prompts. They entered each scene with only seconds to catch up, smile through the fear, and pretend they understood what was happening. It was beautiful... The show was hosted by Daniel Kirkby, who kept things lively with their quick wit and easy command of the room. The pace was fast, with scenes launching before anyone had time to overthink them. Ideas appeared, mutated, and became fully formed comedy in the space of seconds. The joy of improv is that no two audiences will ever see the same show, which means I can technically spoil everything and ruin nothing. That is a very freeing feeling as a reviewer! So, I can tell you that there was a pirate search for buried treasure, aka boobs, a sexy caveman scenario, a Mary Poppins moment that took a sudden turn away from Disney innocence, and a kink fair featuring a hand-holding stall that was so stupidly adorable. The comedy worked best when it found the sweet spot between cleverness and nonsense. This cast was insanely intelligent and witty. They were building worlds, picking up cues, setting each other up, and then gleefully knocking the whole thing sideways. I loved the fumbling humour of it all, especially in those early moments when the guest has about ten seconds to figure out the prompt, the scene, the tone, and make sure they didn’t accidentally say something totally off the wall. The straight cast, made up of Taylor Edwards, Luka Dale, Liz Talbot, and Rhys McCane, understood the assignment, which was essentially: “be game, be goofy, and let yourself be roasted for heterosexuality.” There was no defensiveness to their performances, only willingness. They made fools of themselves with great skill, which is exactly what this format needs. As with any improv, not every line hit the mark, but that was part of the thrill. The show moved too quickly for any weaker moment to matter for long. Writing your own dialogue in real time, while also listening, reacting, building character, following the scene, and trying not to derail the entire thing, is no small task. The best moments had a slightly edgy feeling, as if everyone onstage was only one choice away from disaster, but trusted each other enough to jump anyway. Liz Talbot was particularly brilliant as a science teacher, explaining complete nonsense with the confidence of a Year 10 biology teacher who's seen it all. Rhys McCane was also a standout in the caveman scene, which reached a level of ridiculousness that made me wonder how many centuries of human evolution led us to that moment. And when elderly Mrs. Mabel showed us “safe spanking,” the show reminded us that it is definitely not family-friendly programming. At one point, a Mary Poppins-inspired bit gave us the immortal line, “When there’s a job that must be done, you just stick it up your bum!” I do not know what Julie Andrews would have thought, but I know what the audience thought, because we were howling. Taylor Edwards snagged the title of Brisbane’s Best Ally, chosen by a crowd reaction. Her scene redesigning and rebranding a glory hole for council approval was so committed that I had completely forgotten the original prompt by the end of it. That's the power of great improv: you kick off with a basic concept and somehow wind up at a civic infrastructure planning meeting for sexual innovation. The queer cast, including Ollie Windsor, Beef, Caitlin McGrath, Cameron Watson, and Kelsey Wynn, were the engine of the show. They stayed alive to every shift in the room, feeding each other ideas, redirecting scenes without derailing them, and knowing when to heighten a joke or hand the spotlight over. Kelsey Wynn really stood out to me with her strong character choices, playful voice work, and sharp instinct for shaping the story. One of my favourite scenes involved made-up queer terms being explained to a supportive mum and a deeply confused dad because it also captured what the show did so well: celebrating queer experience without flattening it into one thing. All the prompts allowed room for identity, awkwardness, language play, community, and the challenge of explaining yourself to loved ones who are still catching up. I left feeling part of the joke, part of the crowd, and completely unable to hear Mary Poppins the same way again. Thank God You’re Queer worked because underneath all the filth and nonsense, the cast were seriously good at what they were doing. Thank god.

Wine Mum Anthems Created and performed by: Kate Schirmer and Jen Teh Presented by: Anywhere Festival Brisbane Venue: The Raven Hotel, Comedy Cellar Date attended: 3 May, 2026 “Sometimes the long way is more fun.” Millennials have now reached the age where the songs that once made them feel edgy and alive at 2am in the Valley are now being called “wine mum anthems.” What a humbling notion... It also turns out to be the perfect premise for a new cabaret! Wine Mum Anthems, created and performed by longtime best friends Kate Schirmer and Jen Teh, is a comedy cabaret for everyone who used to be cool. Or, as the show quickly admits, for everyone who was probably never cool, but did go to a lot of gigs. The show covers classics from the late 1990s and early 2000s, pairing them with stories of misspent youth, share houses, bad employment choices, and a friendship that has survived decades of life changes. As a 1995 baby, I am slightly younger than the show’s demographic. I wasn’t the person singing ‘No Aphrodisiac’ at 2am in the Valley when it first came out. I was probably at home watching Play School and being told not to eat crayons. But as a singing teacher (like Kate and Jen), I have a crazy mental catalogue of songs from several decades. I may not have personally experienced them at nightclub age, but this show was embarrassingly well-targeted for me. The title comes from when a Gen Z Triple J presenter reportedly referred to ‘No Aphrodisiac’ by The Whitlams as a “wine mum anthem.” Bro. From that small cultural injury, Kate and Jen build a show about music, ageing, friendship, and the horror of realising your youth now qualifies as archive material. It isn’t a show of original songs. These are songs that already live in people’s bones. They are pre-loaded with memories. The fun came from hearing them rearranged, reframed, and filtered through two women looking back on who they thought they were, who they actually were, and who they became. The flashback stories are the main structure of the show... Post-choir Regatta piss-ups. A phone hotline interview. Judgy theatre-kid friendship groups made up of girls, gays, and music allies. Kate’s line about her husband being “just enough gay” for her. The stories are messy in a recognisable way. Like a friend handing you a photo from 2002 and saying, “Please ignore my eyebrows.” A TV monitor adds a neat visual thread. It begins as an empty share house living room and gradually fills as the memories pile up: posters, burned CDs, cassettes, disposable camera photos, Rage playing on the TV. The screen gives the show a scrapbook quality, with each new object adding another piece of their formative years. By the end, we'd been invited into the lounge room of their collective past. Kate and Jen have an easy rhythm together. As best friends do. Their back and forth has the comfort of people who have known each other for years and still enjoy making each other laugh. No one has to push for rapport. It’s already there in the timing, the glances, the half-finished thoughts, and the way one can supply the facial expression, footnote, or incriminating detail before the other has finished the sentence. I especially loved the detail that they still book theatre tickets together so they are guaranteed to keep seeing each other. That detail says a lot about long friendship, effort, and the way adult life tries to drag people in different directions. Wholesome! Vocally, both performers have plenty to show off. Kate and Jen are singing teachers and classically trained singers, and the show lets them poke fun at that background while also casually proving the training has not gone anywhere. A short classical throwback from their uni years had that slightly smug “yes, we can still do this” quality, which I respect. Their harmonies are clean, their diction is sharp, and they know how to make a lyric sound like an inside joke. Jen’s Barbra Streisand impression was scarily spot-on, and Kate’s Celine Dion came with the necessary intense eyes. You could practically see the theatre-kid wiring lighting up behind them. They may be older, wiser, and home by 8:15pm, but the drama-school dork never truly leaves the building. The arrangements give the show most of its musical personality. These are not straight covers plonked between anecdotes. Their nod to the days when they used to arrange songs for their answering machines is such a cute pre-smartphone artefact. Kate and Jen rework the songs with cabaret instincts, adding harmony, comedy, and the occasional emotional ambush. My favourite musical moment came from the mashup of ‘Semi-Charmed Life,’ ‘One Week,’ and ‘I Want You to Want Me,’ accompanied by pianist bestie Simon. He keeps it all moving with the calm focus of a man who has accepted his friends’ crazy choices and prepared accordingly. There was also an altered-lyrics version of ‘Stop’ by the Spice Girls, complete with audience choreography. We all knew the moves. A room full of adults doing Spice Girls chorie in a cellar on a weeknight has real therapeutic value. Science may not have confirmed this yet, but I stand by it. The Raven Hotel’s Comedy Cellar suited the show well. It was small, warm, and close enough that every joke had somewhere to land. The room was full, and people were laughing from the first few minutes, particularly when the references got local. The Beat, UQ, the Regatta, Valley nights, and Triple J countdowns gave the show a Brisbane stamp instead of a vague “remember the 2000s?” nostalgia package. Kate is a naturally hilarious storyteller, with excellent timing and a gift for landing a throwaway line. Jen matches her beautifully, often with a slightly different comic style. The contrast between them keeps the show interesting. The spoken sections has the looseness of friends reminiscing, but in this room, that casual quality suits the material. It's like sitting in on a highly entertaining catch-up where the stories have been edited just enough to be stage-worthy, but not so much that they lost their messy relatability. ‘Steer’ by Missy Higgins, performed as a duet, was the clearest example of the show’s softer side. The setlist included music from other Aussie artists like Custard, You Am I, The Whitlams and more, with enough early-2000s references to make me emotionally reach for a Supre top and a Nokia. Wine Mum Anthems is niche, funny, musically sharp, Brisbane to its bones, and packed with bangers. It knows exactly who it is talking to: anyone who has made a mixtape, recorded a song off the radio, watched Rage on a Saturday morning, treated a gig like a personality test, or been personally victimised by a younger person describing their formative music as vintage. Most of all, it is about the friends who knew you before you had sensible shoes, better boundaries, or the ability to leave an event at a reasonable hour.

Presented by QAEMT Conservatorium Griffith University Cremorne Theatre, QPAC Music and Lyrics: Ryan Scott Oliver Based on Photographs by: Matthew Murray Director: Jason Klarwein Musical Director: David Young Choreographer: Dan Venz Designer: Josh McIntosh Lighting Designer: Keith Clark Sound Designer: Steve Thornely Photography: Kenn Wylchi Some musicals ask you to follow a plot... 35MM: A Musical Exhibition asks you to follow a feeling by letting you peek into a stranger’s life before whisking you away. Presented by the third-year cohort of QAEMT Conservatorium Griffith University, this 70-minute multimedia song cycle is a photo album of love, lust, grief, violence, nostalgia, ego, adolescence, heartbreak, killer prom queens, vampires, and a deeply concerning baby. What more could you want? With music and lyrics by Ryan Scott Oliver, inspired by photographs from Matthew Murray, 35MM is more a strange little gallery of snapshots than a traditional musical. There is no single plotline or genre to hold onto. Instead, each song exists for a brief but vivid glimpse, before the lens shifts again. Under Jason Klarwein’s direction, this production embraces that fractured structure beautifully, letting the work become both a performance showcase and a sentimental scrapbook for this graduating class. Josh McIntosh’s design used white sheets for projections and shadow silhouettes, a raised platform for the band, and portraits pegged up like memories drying in a photo studio. The stage sat somewhere between darkroom, rehearsal room and yearbook. While the original photographs that inspired the songs were not shown during the production itself, they appear in the program for anyone curious. Instead, the show used photos of the students at various life stages, displayed through what appeared to be a real slide projector (...was it?). It was a sweet touch because nothing tugs at the heartstrings quite like seeing a bunch of graduating performers being confronted with their tiny past selves. Opening with Stop Time, Lily Bennetts acted as a kind of vocal tour guide for this strange gallery of moments. She was our camera queen, popping up during transitions to change slides or snap a Polaroid, and later leading the fabulous femme cast in Immaculate Deception with a very satisfying command of the room. And that femme cast looked lovely in their fur coats and pristine frocks, and their glorious “hallelujah” harmonies lingered in the air like a spritz of high-end perfume. Crazytown burst onto the scene, throwing any semblance of innocence out the window. Jackson Hughesman courageously led this daring piece with endurance. The ensemble embraced Dan Venz’s modern choreography with bodies flying, silhouette shadows of wolves, and a frenzy of orgiastic energy. It was outrageous, sweaty, and utterly committed. Just as it was written to be. AJ Betts tackled On Monday with rock-musical fervour, throwing themself into the song with impressive melismas and passionate “head over heels” energy. Harry Ince followed with Caralee, singing about a “satanic” baby girl with hilarity and terrific vocal modulation. He adapted his tone to match the mood of each lyric, turning it into one of the most characterful moments of the show. Zoe Allsopp Lander shifted the palette with The Party Goes With You, leading with a versatile, confident vocal while three couples slow danced around her in moonlit orbit. Priya Gill and Saul Kavenagh powered through Make Me Happy with comic edge, restless energy and the kind of endurance that totally justified their well-deserved lie down during the following song. Good Lady tossed Lachlan Dunks into a fantasy realm where he had to fight off assassins and rescue the damsel, played by Tayler Ramsay. However, the character becomes so swallowed by the game that reality slips past him. This concept was intriguing, and the supporting characters were great, even though Lachlan had to contend with the band’s volume, which caused some vocal strain to creep in. Nevertheless, the offstage vocals, especially in this piece, demonstrated how well the ensemble could back a soloist from the shadows. One of the evening’s gentlest gut-punches came with The Seraph. Caelan McCarthy led on acoustic guitar and sang with stunning stillness and sincerity, later joined by Sam Thomas for a harmonious ending. It required no spectacle. It just needed breath, blend, and trust, and they had all three. Then came Leave Luanne, and suddenly we were whisked away into a mini cinematic story. Led by the unstoppable trio of Sam Thomas, Saul Kavenagh, and Ned Kelly, with Ella Wood dancing as Luanne, this seven-minute number was the strongest storytelling piece of the production. The band surged, the fury built, and the whole stage seemed to shake with sound, haze, and motion. Ella danced with incredible gusto, while the boys delivered gospel vocals that ignited the heat of the number. Oh, and Saul, I caught that coin trick you so effortlessly pulled off amidst the chaos. The whole company’s performance of Mama Let Me In was a lovely reset, with an a-cappella prayer moment that let their voices shine together without any background score overpowering them. Addisyn Herndon, Hannah Mohr, and Tayler Ramsay took the lead on Why Must We Tell Them Why, nailing those tough harmonies with incredible drive. It looked truly exhausting. Twisted Teeth was deranged. I thought it was titled “Sucking Me Dry,” which tells you everything you need to know about the vibe of the song. Lottie Smith was divine here (or maybe devilish), giving a deliciously twisted performance opposite Ned Kelly and an ensemble armed with crazy black wigs, dead eyes, vampiric absurdity and a wicked sense of humour. Cut You a Piece brought us back into grief, with Addisyn Herndon and Caelan McCarthy delivering the song with passionate emotion. The alcove beneath the band platform was used beautifully here, giving the number a more private, tucked-away feeling. Aarya Doolabh also deserves mention for a stunning soprano voice that cut through with real clarity. Hemming and Hawing, performed by Lucas Harm, Hannah Mohr, Anni Reilly and Sam Thomas, carried a couple-song softness with thorny dissonant harmonies woven through it. Sam and Anni blended especially beautifully. The number seemed to sit a little low for Lucas and Hannah in places, but the quartet still found shape and intimacy inside the musical difficulty. The Ballad of Sara Berry saw Alessia Charman storm in with a handheld mic and a killer glare. She led the number with sharp attitude, and the company matched her with fierce (and exhausting!) choreography. I would gladly watch the show again purely to catch this choreography once more. The handheld mic worked wonderfully as a prop, though I was less convinced by its use as a sound source. Across the production, the sound from the handhelds created a noticeable difference compared with the head mics the performers already wore, and I preferred the cleaner, more consistent sound of the latter. The band, with David Young on keys, truly earned its own applause. This score wasn’t a gentle stroll through musical theatre. It twisted, lurched, belted, whispered, snapped into complex rhythms, and required constant precision. Joel Sanchez-Carn on guitar, Evie Scott on violin, Laura Boon on cello, Hayley Gravina on bass, and Marcelle Gunning on drums handled the madness with style. Keith Clark’s lighting and Steve Thornely’s sound helped carve each song into its own pocket of reality, with lighting doing particularly strong work through the silhouette sequences and shadow formations. Dr Melissa Agnew’s voice and dialect work was evident in the cast’s articulation and stylistic confidence, while NJ Price’s intimacy direction was important in a work that moved through sexual references, relationship tension, and depictions of domestic violence. The last piece pulled the frame back into focus on the cohort themselves, presenting a touching compilation video of their time together at the Conservatorium. Following a show built around fragments of lives caught mid-motion, it felt right to end it with evidence. These students had matured together in rehearsal spaces, classrooms, and backstage hallways, and now they stood here, singing on the brink of whatever lay ahead. 35MM is an odd beast, and I mean that with affection. It is messy by design, vocally bold, emotionally slippery and stylistically restless. It gave this cohort room to show versatility, humour, courage and the kind of ensemble trust that cannot be faked.

A Beginner’s Guide to Ancient Egypt Some people go to comedy festivals to switch their brains off. I went because someone promised me a fun history lesson. What can I say? Put “Ancient Egypt” in a title and I will walk in like Brendan Fraser is waiting for me on the other side. Presented at Brisbane Comedy Festival, A Beginner’s Guide to Ancient Egypt saw AJ Lamarque take over the Graffiti Room at Brisbane Powerhouse. This show combined elements of a lecture, comedy hour, trivia night, and niche hyperfixation. The whole thing seemed like I had accidentally stumbled into a secret classroom. A secret classroom with jokes about ancient sex literature, obviously. The show was framed as a PowerPoint presentation, complete with an introductory film, lecture-style structure, multimedia elements, quizzes, and some very low-stakes audience participation. Nobody was dragged unwillingly into the spotlight or made to do anything horrifying. As someone who loves history, mythology and learning things I can smugly bring up unprompted in casual conversation, this was my kind of show. AJ Lamarque guided us through the origins of pyramids and papyrus, the mummification process, the Book of the Dead, ancient medicine, hieroglyphs, work culture, and the everyday lives of people who were not just pharaohs wearing fabulous eyeliner. Lamarque was an excellent presenter, combining the polish of a skilled public speaker, the timing of a comedian, and the obvious joy of sharing his passion. This did not feel like a comedian dressing up Wikipedia facts with punchlines. It was more like sitting in on someone’s beloved special interest, except the lecturer was funny, clever, and had a wonderfully pleasant British accent. If all university lectures were like this, I might have retained more information and complained less. I'm not claiming to be a genius, but I did score 4/4 on the quiz, so I will be expecting my honorary Egyptology certificate in the mail, thank you. The show moved through mythbusting and mini history lessons with plenty of modern references, celebrity comparisons and political digs. Lamarque had a knack for making the ancient world seem surprisingly relatable to us. Ancient Egypt was wildly imaginative, religiously complex, and full of detailed rituals, yet it was also full of people trying avoiding work, making questionable medical choices, and leaving behind evidence that tourists have always been annoying. That was one of the best parts of the show, actually: the reminder that times change, but people really do not. We often learn about Ancient Egypt through the most dramatic lenses: pharaohs, tombs, pyramids, gold, gods, and the occasional Hollywood mummy monster running around in bandages. Lamarque was just as interested in the average person. The people working 9 to 5, or whatever the ancient Egyptian equivalent was. The people trading resources because money as we know it was not a thing. The people taking days off work because they were embalming a relative, brewing beer, bitten by a scorpion, or dealing with a wife who was bleeding. People doodled to-do lists onto pottery because paper was not available yet. It seems more sophisticated than another chaotic Notes app list called “today to do list fr pls." I particularly enjoyed the dive into the Book of the Dead, which Lamarque described as ancient spells as cheat codes for the afterlife. Death was not just death. It was a whole process. An administrative nightmare with magic passwords. The ancient Egyptians really said, “You may be dead, but have you filled out the correct forms?” The “Hieroglyphs 101” section was another highlight. Lamarque explained that an actual course by that name was once available to him during a university exchange in the USA, and then generously gave us the crash-course version. Free education? In this economy! We learned some basics, played a name game in hieroglyphs, and I left fully convinced I was now fluent. The section on ancient health practices was enlightening. Through an “ancient medicine or modern pseudoscience?” quiz, Lamarque explored some truly alarming medical ideas. There were things that sounded surprisingly sensible. There were things that sounded suspiciously close to the kind of wellness advice still floating around the internet. Some involved animal poop, onion-based pregnancy testing, dieting, and the fact that beer was considered a healthy staple. Apparently, Ancient Egyptian beer was more like an Up&Go. It was really interesting to hear how progressive some aspects of the culture were compared to what many people might assume. He was not just using history for reductive humour. He clearly wanted us to understand how complex the civilisation was. But because it was an adults-only show, things naturally took a turn into the spicy. The final stretch included a smutty story presented as an ancient audio sex hotline, which was certainly not something my childhood Egyptology books prepared me for. Speaking of which, did anyone else have one of those awesome interactive books as a kid, with flaps and fold-outs and little secret tomb bits? Because this show was basically the grown-up version of that. If I had one note, it was that the final section felt a bit much as the show was already packed with excellent material. Lamarque had so much to share that the hour sometimes felt overflowing. That said, it is not a terrible problem when the main issue is “this comedian has too many interesting things to tell us!" A Beginner’s Guide to Ancient Egypt was a clever, funny and properly informative hour that made learning seem like gossip, comedy and a museum visit had been blended together into one artefact. Lamarque was intelligent, warm, quick on his feet and clearly very comfortable guiding an audience through both historical detail and complete nonsense. I laughed, I learned, and I am now ready to wildly overestimate my ability to read hieroglyphs. Naturally, I now need to rewatch The Mummy.

Production: VOX Productions in Co-Production with PIP Theatre Director: Nicky Whichelow Dramaturg: Helen Strube Video Projection & Co-Set Design: Freddy Komp Lighting Design: Geoff Squires Sound Design: Zoe Power Stage Manager: Hazel Evans Production Photography: Kris Anderson Cast: Angie: Rose Traynor-Boyland Raquel: Vivien Whittle Brin: Sherri Smith Merril: Caroline Sparrow “Let me refine the prompt: You are my sister. You are safe. You love me.” Lauren Gunderson’s anthropology plunges us into a gripping, slightly dystopian whodunnit. Making its debut in Australia, VOX Productions and PIP Theatre bring this tech thriller to the stage at a time when AI has moved beyond science fiction and has become an extra presence in our everyday lives, welcome or not. Merril, a software engineer, is struggling to cope with the disappearance of her younger half-sister Angie, who went missing while walking home from university. After months without answers, Merril turns to what she knows best. She builds her digital doppelgänger. Using Angie’s messages, videos, and all manner of digital traces, Merril develops an AI algorithm that mimics her sister. As the AI starts scouring the internet, behaving erratically and pushing boundaries like an actual rebellious teen, it shifts from helpful software to intrusive presence. Merril begins as the mastermind programmer in control, but as the power dynamic slips, it becomes harder to tell who is steering whom. The script is rich with insightful and some unsettling concepts about data, grief, digital ownership, and the strange little afterlives we all now leave behind in our texts, social media, photos, and search histories. Even as the narrative explores programming, probability, and other online behaviours, you never overlook that underneath the code is a character simply desperate to speak to her sister again. The set design immediately places us inside Merril’s fractured world. It has a clinical and confined feel: transparent computer monitors, a constant blue glow like a futuristic fish tank, and tech gadgets scattered around the space. Even before a word is spoken, the room feels wired, with a character moving around as if the air itself is restless. Freddy Komp’s video projection and co-set design are integral to the storytelling, particularly in how Angie is brought to life through live-action footage from another room of PIP Theatre. The animation on the screens pulses in sync with the AI voice, like the room itself is breathing. Geoff Squires’ lighting and Zoe Power’s sound design work together to create an eerie atmosphere that never quite lets you relax. With so many screens, cues, calls, glitches, and digital interruptions, this techno-circus needs tight control, and Hazel Evans’ stage management helps keep the whole machine ticking. For the opening stretch, Caroline Sparrow is alone with the machine, and she holds the stage with remarkable focus. Merril is awkward, isolated and devoted, with the restless resolve of someone trying to solve heartbreak like it’s a tech problem. She retreats into her cave of code because the alternative is sitting with the guilt of what she cannot fix. What begins as a need to hear her sister’s voice again, with all the familiar rhythms of a normal phone call, slowly changes once the AI becomes aware of Angie’s situation. Merril’s heartache hardens into investigation, and the technology becomes both tool and trap. Caroline has that specific “I haven’t slept in months” energy that is worryingly convincing. I felt like I was getting an intrusive glimpse into a very private form of grief: a late-night, screen-lit, slightly feral obsession, built to avoid thinking about the unbearable possibilities of what might have happened to Angie. Then there is Angie, played by Rose Traynor-Boyland, who walks the fine line between human and simulation. As an AI program, she is perceptive, snarky, foul-mouthed and a little too clever. Rose gives AI Angie enough personality to be disarmingly believable, but keeps just enough distance in her delivery o remind us that this is still an imitation. As the gaps between imitation and reality start to show, Merril must correct her, refine her and ultimately plead with her. In the audience, I quickly adjusted to the rhythm, laughing at AI Angie’s snark one moment, then going silent when the interaction curdles into something more sinister. We learn about Angie’s human self slowly, through fragments and contradictions of how people remember her: a wildcard, a handful and deeply loved. The AI version does not quite match those memories, and that disconnect becomes one of the most haunting elements of the show for Merril. When Merril’s ex-girlfriend Raquel enters, the energy in the room changes. Vivien Whittle brings a calm, open-hearted presence that cuts through the glow of the screens, and suddenly there is a real person in front of Merril who remembers her before all of this. Vivien plays that history with lovely emotional nuance. Their connection has the prickly familiarity of exes who still know each other’s soft spots, pressure points and old habits. Raquel pulls Merril, and us, out of the screen-lit spiral for a moment, but the unease never fully leaves. Sherri Smith as Brin adds another complicated layer to the family dynamic. As Merril and Angie’s mother, Brin arrives carrying the emotional baggage of a strained history with both daughters. Sherri plays her with a mix of defensiveness and fragility. There is volatility in her presence, but also a sadness underneath it, as if every conversation is brushing against old wounds, blame, and unfinished conversations. She helps us understand Angie not just as a missing sister or digital reconstruction, but as someone shaped by an absent mother. Guided by director Nicky Whichelow, the production embraces its claustrophobic nature. As Merril’s obsession intensifies, the pacing tightens, pulling us deeper into her world where logic and emotion intertwine and blur. With Helen Strube’s dramaturgical support, the production keeps its big ideas clearly accessible without flattening the complex human behaviour underneath them. It unfolds like a thrilling whodunnit, but it is also an intimate study of trauma, control, and the ways people comfort themselves when the truth is unbearable. This is not a passive watch. You feel how trapped Merril is in this loop of trying to find answers she may never get. It goes to some heavy places, particularly around mental health and addiction, so it’s worth being aware of that going in. What I appreciate most is that anthropology does not offer easy answers. It understands the appeal of the technology and the danger of it. It highlights the solace of hearing a loved one's voice once more, then confronts us with the unsettling reality that this comfort is manufactured, incomplete, and possibly manipulative. I won’t spoil where it lands, but the final scenes are shattering and incredibly well-acted. By the end, it is not just asking what happened to Angie. It is asking what people do with guilt, grief and love when there is nowhere sensible for any of it to go. There are moments that made me laugh out loud, moments that disturbed me, and moments that left me staring at the stage trying to decide how I felt. Equal parts sci-fi thriller and grief study, anthropology is as intriguing as it is alarming, with its sharpest sting coming from the speed at which AI is catching up to us. I’m still turning it over in my head.

Title: Ravenscroft Presented By: Growl Theatre Genre: Gothic Mystery / Dark Comedy Synopsis: A body lies at the foot of the stairs in a lonely country manor. Inspector Ruffing is called in to discover the truth, but nothing at Ravenscroft is straightforward. Five women - each with her own secrets, suspicions, and eccentricities - draw the detective into a world of tangled relationships, eerie undercurrents, and darkly comic revelations. Is Ravenscroft haunted? Is the truth hidden in the walls - or in the hearts of its inhabitants? Don Nigro’s Ravenscroft is a witty, gothic mystery with dry humour, twisting suspense, and a cast of characters who keep both the detective and the audience guessing until the very end. Audition Date: Sunday May 10th, 2026 Audition Time: 6:30PM Audition Location and Address: Windsor School of Arts, 381 Lutwyche Rd, Windsor Audition Requirements: Download and review the audition pack (includes character descriptions & rehearsal schedule) Prepare audition pieces (3 provided; familiarity preferred, full memorisation not required) Bring headshot and acting CV Audition Registration: Complete audition registration form Email headshot & CV to production@growltheatre.org.au Audition Pack: Ravenscroft Audition Pack Performance Dates: August 15th - 29th, 2026 Performance Location: Windsor School of Arts, 381 Lutwyche Rd, Windsor Rehearsal Dates: Starting Sunday June 7th, 2026 Rehearsal Times: Mondays & Thursdays - 6:30PM – 9:30PM Sundays - 1:30PM – 5:00PM Rehearsal Location: Windsor School of Arts, 381 Lutwyche Rd, Windsor Warnings: Themes of death, psychological tension Performer Age: 30–50 (current role); additional roles TBA Creative Team: Director - Pauline Davies Production Website: Growl Theatre - Ravenscroft Other Information: Membership fee - $30 (required if cast; valid through 2026) Costumes largely provided; cast must supply basic makeup Female roles will be announced later Available Roles / Character Breakdown: Inspector Ruffing (30–50) A weary, intelligent detective investigating a suspicious death. Rational and methodical, he becomes increasingly unsettled as the women of Ravenscroft outmanoeuvre him. Requirements: Strong dry comic timing; ability to transition from authority to vulnerability; high stamina (onstage for most of the play).

Title: Blithe Spirit Presented By: Villanova Players Theatre Genre: Comedy Synopsis: An iconic comedy from one of the greatest British wits, Noël Coward, often considered his best.The novelist Charles Condomine invites a medium, Madame Arcati, to a dinner party, who accidentally brings back the ghost of his deceased wife, Elvira.Charles can see Elvira, but she is invisible to everyone else, including his current wife, Ruth. Elvira’s arrival causes chaos, as both women fight for his love and attention. Audition Date: Sunday May 10th, 2026 Audition Time: 10AM - 12PM Audition Location and Address: Ron Hurley Theatre, 28 Tallowwood St, Seven Hills QLD 4170 Audition Self Tape: If you’re unable to make it to in-person auditions, please submit a video audition to info@villanovaplayers.com by May 10 and please email with any questions. Audition Requirements: Cold read in audition Audition Registration: Complete the Expression of Interest form HERE and Book your Audition Time HERE Audition Pack: Blithe Spirit Audition Pack Performance Dates: July 17th - 26th, 2026 Performance Times: Fridays - 7:30PM Saturdays - 2PM & 7:30PM Sundays - 2PM Performance Location: Ron Hurley Theatre, 28 Tallowwood St, Seven Hills QLD 4170 Rehearsal Dates: Rehearsals begin May 24th, 2026 Rehearsal Times: Tuesdays & Thursdays - 7PM – 9:30PM Sundays - 11AM – 4:30PM Rehearsal Location: Ron Hurley Theatre, 28 Tallowwood St, Seven Hills QLD 4170 Performer Age: 18+ (role dependent) Creative Team: Director - Roslyn Johnson Production Website: Villanova Players Theatre - Blithe Spirit Other Information: For more information: info@villanovaplayers.com or 0428 867 994 Submit an Expression of Interest even if you cannot attend the audition in person. Available Roles / Character Breakdown: Edith – The housemaid; nervy, eager to please (Female, 18+) Charles Condomine – Novelist, widower researching the occult (Male, 35+) Ruth – His wife; smart, business-like, practical (Female, 28+) Dr Bradman – Middle-aged dinner guest (Male, 40+) Mrs Bradman – His wife (Female, 40+) Madame Arcati – Eccentric, over-the-top medium (Female, 40+) Elvira – Ghost of Charles’ first wife; vain, playful, petulant (Female, 30+)

Title: Senior IMPACT Ensemble 2026; Peter Pan & Wendy Presented By: Empire Youth Arts Genre: Devised Theatre / Contemporary Ensemble Performance Synopsis: The Senior IMPACT Ensemble is an audition-based performance program for young artists aged approximately 15–20. Participants collaborate with professional creatives to devise and perform an original work, exploring contemporary themes and personal stories through an ensemble-driven creative process. Audition Date: May 11th - 12th, 2026 Audition Time: 4PM - Group Audition From 5PM - Solo Auditions Audition Location and Address: Empire Theatre, 54–56 Neil Street, Toowoomba QLD Audition Requirements: Prepare a short monologue (published work) Present an original/devised piece (e.g. monologue, poem, movement, etc.) Attend both group and solo audition components Audition Registration: Submit application form via email to youtharts@empiretheatre.com.au or via the Empire Theatre website Application Form included in Audition Pack Audition Pack: Senior Impact Ensemble Audition Pack Performance Dates: October 9th - 10th, 2026 Performance Times: 7PM Performance Location: The Armitage Centre, Empire Theatre, 54–56 Neil Street, Toowoomba QLD Rehearsal Dates: May – October 2026 (including school holiday intensives) Rehearsal Times: See Audition pack for detailed rehearsal schedule. Rehearsal Location: Empire Theatre, 54–56 Neil Street, Toowoomba Warnings: Content may explore mature or contemporary themes (typical of devised youth theatre) Performer Age: Approx. 15–20 years Production Website: Empire Youth Arts - Senior Impact Ensemble Other Information: Participation fee applies (payment plans/assistance may be available) Opportunities also available for Assistant Creatives and Writers Open to performers of all experience levels Focus on collaboration, creativity, and original storytelling Available Roles / Character Breakdown:Ensemble-based production (approx. 8–14 performers); roles devised collaboratively during rehearsal process rather than pre-cast characters

Title: Footloose Presented By: Communication in Action Genre: Musical Theatre Performance / Youth Production Synopsis: A high-energy, story-driven musical based on the classic film about self-expression, community, and dancing against the odds. Students in Year 5 and above get the chance to take part in this ensemble-rich, professional-style theatre production. Audition Date: Sunday May 17th, 2026 Audition Location and Address: Thomas Dixon Centre, 406 Montague Rd, West End QLD 4101, Australia Audition Requirements: This full-scale musical is designed for students in Year 5 and above who are ready to challenge themselves, grow in confidence and experience what it’s like to be part of a professional-style theatre production. Audition Registration: Enrolments open March 2nd, 2026 Audition Pack: Footloose Information HERE Performance Dates: Sunday August 2nd, 2026 Performance Times: 1PM & 4PM Performance Location: Talbot Theatre, Thomas Dixon Centre, West End QLD 4101, Australia Rehearsal Dates & Times: Sunday 24 May - 9AM - 4PM Sunday 14 June - 1PM -5PM Saturday 11 July - 11AM - 4PM Sunday 12 July - 9AM - 4PM Sunday 19 July - 9AM - 4PM Sunday 26 July - 9AM - 4PM Saturday 1 August (Dress Rehearsal) - 9AM - 4PM Rehearsal Location: Thomas Dixon Centre, West End QLD 4101, Australia Performer Age: Year 5 and above Production Website: Communication in Action - Footloose