Mae lives on a farm in dire poverty with her not-brother, Lloyd. In an effort to excavate herself from this dreary existence, Mae is going to school and dreams of a future that doesn’t involve living among pigs. But Lloyd, well, he’s quite content wallowing in the pigsty. When Lloyd gets sick, Mae enlists the help of their neighbour Henry, and suddenly, it’s a love/hate triangle with more twists than a pig’s tail. Frustrated and desperate, Mae realises she must flee from these two men who rely on her. But has she already sunk too deep in the mud?   Written by the greatest playwright you’ve never heard of, María Irene Fornés, and presented by Salad Days Collective and PIP Theatre: Mud is bleak, grotesque, and utterly captivating—a play that revels in its unfiltered, uncompromising reality while unexpectedly inserting moments of dark humour that leave you laughing before you realise you maybe shouldn’t be. The entire production, presented by the newly Matilda Award-winning team, is a testament to how powerful theatre can be in the right hands. Even before the show began, the audience was treated to Tiffany Payne's remarkable vocals out on the PIP Theatre patio. As part of The Vintage Belles trio, she established a nostalgic atmosphere—perfectly suited for the bygone world we were about to step into. And what a world it was. As I took a seat in the PIP Theatre (choose any seat, your sightline will be excellent), I was struck by how this intimate venue continues to reinvent itself. This time, the audience surrounds the stage on three sides. The set (designed by Laurent Milton) itself is a grim tableau—dirt, rags, and antique furnishings set the scene for a life of bleak, rural poverty that screams "Welcome to the middle of nowhere!" As the audience enters, Mae and Lloyd are already engaged in their activities—Mae is busy pressing clothes with an iron literally made of iron, and Lloyd is curled up in the dirt like an afterthought. He is visibly unwell and emanating decay, embodies filth and stagnation. Your first impression paints him as crude, uneducated, and rather primal. From the very first moments, Mud  is confronting. The language is harsh but infrequent, making it all the more jarring when it does strike. The dark comedy of the piece is immediate and unsettling—I caught myself laughing at moments I felt I shouldn’t, yet that discomfort seems entirely intentional. Jasmine Prasser delivers an arresting performance as Mae, a young woman clinging to education as a lifeline. Mae sees beauty in the simplest things—a mirror, a song, a moment of grace before a meal—yet she is painfully aware of her own insignificance. She is restless, curious, and utterly determined to claw her way out of this mud—both literally and figuratively. What makes Prasser's performance so striking is her ability to completely embody Mae in a way that makes her pain feel visceral. She can shift her entire energy depending on who she’s interacting with. Her disdain and resentment for Lloyd is palpable, but in that sibling-like way where you almost  sense a sliver of affection buried beneath the frustration. With Henry, she’s hopeful, softer—until the dynamic shifts and that resentment creeps back in. George Oates delivers a performance that is both deeply unsettling and strangely hilarious as Lloyd. He must navigate a role that demands the actor to strip away all sophistication. He must communicate with a severely limited vocabulary, struggling to form complex thoughts, and his lack of comprehension makes even the simplest exchanges frustrating. Lloyd is a pitiful figure and a source of grotesque humour, often in the same breath. There’s a casual mention of him having contracted something from a pig (a moment that earns a stunned, nervous laugh from the audience), and suddenly, everything about him feels even more revolting. And yet, you can’t look away. Oates' physicality—flinching, cowering, shrinking into himself—paints a boy clinging desperately to the last scraps of control over his world. Watching him writhe in agony, unnoticed by Mae and Henry, was devastating—I found myself physically grimacing, torn between horror and sympathy. And yet, Mud  never lets us settle into one emotion for too long. In the midst of all this filth and degradation, there are heartbreaking glimpses of innocence. When Mae proudly reads aloud from her book, Lloyd is momentarily ecstatic, filled with childlike wonder as she recites a passage about starfish. For a fleeting second, we see his genuine pride in her—only for it to curdle into something resentful almost instantly. It’s a gut-wrenching performance, and Oates plays every beat with a tragic honesty. Mae's interactions with Henry, played with an awkward charm by Alexander O’Connell, reveal her desperate search for something more out of life—especially considering Henry is portrayed as decades older than Mae and Lloyd. To enhance this, O’Connell is styled with makeup and costume to appear significantly older (and slightly disturbing). He also adopts a British accent, setting him apart from the two Aussie characters and giving Henry an air of authority and sophistication. His vocal delivery is particularly striking—a unique choice that you must hear for yourself. Initially, Henry seems like the hero of this strange little tragedy—sweet, articulate, and devoted to Mae. But Mud  doesn’t deal in easy heroes and villains, and O’Connell’s performance ensures we feel every moment of Henry’s decline—especially when the tables turn on him in a way that is cruelly ironic. Directed by Calum Johnston, this one-act production is concise, with no moment wasted. The farmhouse kitchen is the singular setting, grounding us in the claustrophobia of their world. The lighting design by Noah Milne enhances every emotional shift. Scene transitions are hypnotic—punctuated by freeze frames, the ticking of a clock, and the eerie repetition of a distorted melody. The lighting subtly dulls and brightens, mirroring the passage of time and the suffocating cycle Mae is trapped in. The costumes reinforce the class divide—Lloyd in tattered underwear and grime, Mae in tattered dresses and skirts, and Henry in clothes that, while simple, signify a level of dignity the others lack. When Lloyd takes Henry’s dress pants (and money), it’s a powerful shift in their dynamic. The play builds to a devastating climax (which I won't spoil). As Mae’s situation grows increasingly hopeless, Henry—once her escape—becomes just another weight dragging her down. The role reversal between Lloyd and Henry is brilliantly executed, with O’Connell’s transformation into a physically broken, yet still cruelly superior figure, being a darkly ironic twist. The comedy runs through the play like an undercurrent, continually catching the audience off guard time and time again. For example, Lloyd's attempt (and failure) to feed Henry is both hilarious and tragic to watch. Even in its darkest moments, Mud finds a way to make you chuckle—before immediately yanking you back into discomfort. Mud  is not an easy watch, nor should it be. It is ugly, harsh, and unrelenting, much like the life Mae tries to escape. At times, I found myself physically recoiling from the intense despair portrayed by all three actors on stage. A moment when Prasser turned towards my side of the audience, utterly shattered, lost, and trapped, left me stunned. It’s the kind of performance that sticks with you like glitter after a night out at the Beat—impossible to shake off once the house lights come up. It’s clear that this play has done exactly what it set out to do. It leaves you squirming, laughing, and, ultimately, devastated. Like a pig stuck in the mud, Mae is swallowed by her circumstances, and we, the audience, are left helplessly watching. And yet, it is beautiful in its brutality—an unflinching look at cycles of poverty and the tragic futility of self-improvement when the world refuses to let you rise. This production is a triumph, and a harrowing experience I won’t soon forget. Content Warnings:  Strong coarse language, sexual assault. Now playing: 14th – 22nd March 2025 Tickets: Available here   CAST Mae: Jasmine Prasser Henry: Alexander O’Connell Lloyd: George Oates   CREW Produced By: Salad Days Collective Producer & Stage Manager: Georgina Sawyer Director: Calum Johnston Assistant Director: Jackson Paul Stage Hand/Operator: Cutter Harris Lighting Designer: Noah Milne Set Designer: Laurent Milton

Written by Your Man Alex Smith and presented by Phoenix Ensemble, Empty Chair fuses rock, musical theatre, and soul-baring storytelling into a genre-defying performance—think Bo Burnham, but with more theatrics. Serving as both an album launch and an intimate dive into Alex’s experiences with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), the show is equal parts wit, gut-punch emotion, and a fearless sense of self-exploration; with direction by Tammy Sarah Linde, musical direction by Emma Erdis, and choreography by Sabella Segal. Before the performance, Alex offered a disclaimer: just because you might see yourself in some of the material doesn’t necessarily mean you have BPD... but it might be worth a chat with your mental health professional! It was a moment of care wrapped in wry humour, the perfect primer for what followed: an introspective journey through Alex’s mind, where self-awareness, self-destruction, and self-acceptance tangled together in a gloriously theatrical mess. His story wasn’t a universal blueprint for BPD—it was his own, and he made sure the audience knew that. For those unfamiliar, Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) is a mental health condition characterised by intense emotional instability, impulsivity, and a distorted sense of self. It often manifests in extreme emotions, self-destructive tendencies, and an overwhelming fear of abandonment. Your Man Alex Smith has released multiple albums— Crazy Days, Guilty , Slow Burn and Empty Chair —each showcasing his evolving musical talent. The musicality of Empty Chair grabbed hold from the first note and refused to let go. Howl opened the show like an invocation, with Alex’s echoing vocals cutting through the air as swirling lights hypnotised us and the cast desperately reached out to him from afar, making the stage feel both infinite and confining. The ensemble—Micheal Enright, Sam McLaughlin, Doug Berry, Geena Schwartz, Rae Rose, and Kristina Redwood—wasn’t just there to support in the background; they were living, breathing extensions of Alex’s mind, shifting between roles, moods, and moments. Whether narrating the nine traits of BPD or manifesting as the ghosts of relationships past, they were integral to shaping the narrative. Doug effortlessly balanced intensity and comedic timing. My eyes were constantly drawn to him. Rae, Sam, and Micheal formed a terrific trio of talent, appearing in multiple scenes and songs to constantly captivate the audience. And while the live cast delivered powerhouse vocals, the pre-recorded backing—featuring a 30-strong choir of Brisbane theatre names—added a depth so rich it bordered on the cinematic. Alex’s ability to fuse rock with theatrical storytelling is a wonderful gift, and his knack for pairing catchy hooks with profound lyrics made for an unforgettable listening experience. If you haven’t listened to the album yet, I implore you to do so immediately. Throughout the show, Kristina Redwood brought a calming, grounding presence as Alex’s psychologist, appearing between numbers to guide both Alex and the audience through his diagnosis and treatment sessions. Her portrayal exuded warmth, strength, and genuine compassion—everything you would hope for in a mental health professional. On the opposite end of the emotional spectrum, Geena Schwartz portrayed Julia, an ex-girlfriend who embodied Alex’s internalised self-criticism. Geena’s performance was chilling (and often darkly funny), as she unleashed a torrent of self-doubt and inner turmoil with a villainous intensity. Her presence was constant, haunting, and compelling, perfectly embodying the toxic thoughts that relentlessly plagued him. The dynamic between Alex and Geena was electric—each confrontation charged with raw emotion.   From the moment Grognax (Devourer of Worlds) began, it was clear that Alex wasn’t shying away from sharing the turbulent emotions that come with BPD. He took the stage as a horned creature—an embodiment of how he perceived himself when first diagnosed (and after Googling the disorder online despite being advised against it). The lyrics were piercing: "My needs are unsustainable. My love is unobtainable. I will never be enough. And I can't stand it." Each line felt like a stab to the heart, exposing the self-destructive thoughts that often accompany the disorder. The choreography was just as impactful, with frantic, erratic movements mirroring the turmoil of the mind. Splitting the Sky illustrated the concept of 'splitting'—alternating between extreme self-perceptions—rapping about being a self-proclaimed “ God of rock,” then descended into self-loathing, declaring, “This sucks, that’s why nobody’s clapping.” The song’s emotional swings were mirrored in the use of split staging, physically dividing these two opposing sides of Alex’s psyche with Doug Berry. Alex’s ability to balance such heavy subject matter with humour was one of the show’s strongest elements. A prime example was his rapid-fire monologue advocating for The Goofy Movie as the greatest Disney film—a rant so compelling that I left convinced I needed to watch it immediately. These moments made the show feel authentic, as though we were seeing not just Alex’s struggles, but also the vivacity that are part of his reality, keeping the show from ever becoming too overwhelming. One song that made a huge impression on me is Nothing Changed —a scathing reflection on performative morality—specifically, a girl who thought going to therapy made her better than everyone else without ever actually changing her behaviour. The lyrics brutally critique the notion that attending therapy (or church) automatically makes someone a good person: "None of these ignorant heathens deserve my time in the least 'cause every Sunday I go to church and I confess my sins to the priest." The choral backing in this number is breathtaking (seriously, go listen to it now!). A stark contrast to the other songs was When It Rains, It Snows , a powerful ballad exploring the intense fear of abandonment associated with BPD. The emotional gravity of the song was amplified by a beautiful dance solo from Sabella Segal, whose contemporary choreography spoke volumes without a single word. Even though I am not versed in dance, her emotional expression conveyed every ounce of fear, longing, and vulnerability. That’s the beauty of great storytelling—it doesn’t always need to be explained; it just needs to be felt.   The title song, Empty Chair , served as an exhilarating group anthem, even with its heartbreaking theme of recurring relationship failures. Alex's vocals were outstanding, particularly during the song's bridge where his powerful belt shone. Act One ended with Just Put Me Down , a heavy rock number tackling suicidal ideation. The statistic—one in ten people with BPD will die by suicide—hung in the air as Alex stripped himself raw, belting out, “Why would I claw myself back from the brink of oblivion so I can fight every day just to function?” It was a harrowing yet necessary moment, handled with brutal honesty. As a vocal coach, I must highlight that Alex's voice was exceptional throughout the performance. He remains on stage the entire time, never faltering, never cracking, while courageously offering us this intimate glimpse into this private story.   Act Two burst to life with Raccoon Party , a riotous spectacle depicting Alex’s 30th birthday as a madhouse of fair-weather friends (except for the legend Micheal). The ensemble, decked out as mischievous raccoons with exaggerated Brooklyn accents, were utterly hysterical. The number’s banjo-driven chaos, paired with chaotic staging, made for a deliriously fun contrast to the heavier moments of the show. And Kristina Redwood’s deadpan delivery of, “Sorry I’m late, I had diarrhoea!” completely wrecked me. One of my personal favourites was This Cool to Ride , a duet with Rae Rose that tackled unhealthy relationship dynamics. On the surface, it was an upbeat, ridiculously catchy number, but beneath the infectious groove lay lyrics that cut deep— “Any second now I’ll grow a backbone, any second now I’m gonna walk.” Rae's harmony was awesome, layering tension and desperation over a driving beat that made me want to hit repeat the second it ended. One of the most honest moments of the show came when Alex exploded at his therapist over the cost of getting help. “I don’t want to do the work and spend the money just to become ‘normal’!”  That moment was painfully, infuriatingly real. And then there’s the way that Alex encapsulated a feeling I’ve never been able to put into words: “I never liked birthdays because they feel like an audit on how well you are liked.”  Hearing that sentiment expressed so plainly was both validating and devastating. But Alex takes it a step further— “I would move heaven and hell so my friends don’t feel the way I do each year” . The (not) final number, Get Better , had Alex joined by an ensemble of cheerleaders while he offered words of wisdom to his younger self (played by Micheal). The lyric “So just put on this song when you're fighting with your brain”  is a lifeline—a reminder that healing isn’t linear, but it is possible. The actual final number, Working on Myself , didn’t offer a neat, happy ending—because life isn’t that simple. It acknowledged that recovery is ongoing, that self-improvement is a journey rather than a destination. This show gave me emotional whiplash in the best way possible. One moment, I was howling with laughter (the hilariously self-aware lyric: “I'm an ace, borderline musician, and a Scorpio”  destroyed me); the next, I was crying—or, if I could  cry, I would have. Instead, I settled for dancing in my seat and nodding along to lyrics that felt like they’d been pulled directly from my own brain. Alex Smith has done something extraordinary with Empty Chair . It reaches into your soul, pulls out the things you didn’t know how to say, and sings them back to you. He took his own deeply personal experiences and transformed them into a show that was equally hilarious, heartbreaking, and hopeful. But more than that, it was the courageous, unflinching honesty that made this show unforgettable. Devastatingly, its run was cut short due to complications from the cyclone, making its impact feel even more fleeting—like something rare and precious that disappeared too soon. Thankfully, the album exists, and I played it on repeat the entire drive home. I can only hope Empty Chair finds another life on stage. It deserves it. And when it does return, I’ll be first in line to see it again. Photographs by Jess Asher

Lyric Theatre, QPAC – 2025 Season Duration: 2 hours, 50 minutes (including two intervals)   I had the pleasure of seeing Queensland Ballet's magnificent production of Romeo and Juliet at QPAC’s Lyric Theatre—a breathtaking opening to their 65th anniversary season. While I don't consider myself an expert in dance, I do know when I’ve witnessed something truly theatrical. Everything about this production was utterly world-class: from Sir Kenneth MacMillan’s masterful choreography to Prokofiev’s iconic score, brought to life by the Queensland Symphony Orchestra. The music alone was worth the price of admission! This 3-hour ballet (it's Willy Shakespeare, after all) follows the passionate yet doomed love story of two young lovers from feuding families in Renaissance Verona.   This ballet was first performed in 1965 and remains one of MacMillan’s greatest narrative works. It is no small feat to bring this masterpiece to the stage — companies must receive special permission from the MacMillan estate. The level of artistry required is immense, and it’s only performed by companies who meet incredibly high standards. Queensland Ballet didn’t just meet those expectations—they soared past them.   I was especially lucky to attend a performance featuring two guest artists from The Royal Ballet: Principal Artists Calvin Richardson and Akane Takada, dancing the roles of Romeo and Juliet. It was a genuine privilege to see such internationally acclaimed artists perform live in Brisbane. Their chemistry was magnetic, their technique exquisite, and their storytelling deeply moving. From their very first glance to their final tragic embrace, I believed every moment of their love story.   The visual world of the production was simply divine. The sets and costumes, acquired from a German ballet company, had been meticulously transferred and restored. They transported us straight to Verona, with a richness and grandeur rarely seen. Lush velvets, hand-dyed fabrics, delicate glass-beaded gowns, and real gold-leafed textiles shimmered under the warm lights. The Capulets were draped in bold reds, blacks, and teals, contrasting beautifully with the pastel-toned Montagues.   The set itself was a marvel—a grand central staircase, a two-storey arched structure that transformed into marketplace, ballroom and balcony, and finely detailed locations like Juliet’s bedroom and the Capulet tomb. This staging was opulent and completely immersive. Each scene felt like we were watching a Renaissance painting come to life. Even the stage curtain was a work of art, featuring an intricate artwork of Verona. The lighting, designed by John B. Read and Jacopo Pantani, added layers of atmosphere—whether it was the golden warmth of Verona’s sun-drenched days or the cool, haunting shadows of the tomb.   The opening featured what felt like the entire population of Verona — I half-expected someone to come out selling popcorn. With the full company of over 50 dancers, the stage was a flurry of motion and colour! Unlike most ballets that centre the female dancers, here the male dancers had some of the most dynamic moments, especially in the camaraderie and mischief of Romeo (Calvin Richardson), Mercutio (Ivan Surodeev), and Benvolio (Joshua Ostermann). Their cheeky antics, particularly in their interactions with the nurse (Janette Mulligan) and Rosaline (Alison McWhinney), adding levity before the inevitable tragedy unfolded in a series of precisely choreographed sword fights.   I found myself swept away not only by the beauty of the movement but by the story itself, which was remarkably clear—even without a single word spoken. Who needs Shakespeare’s complex prose when you can dance it out?! Even if you don’t know a plié from a pas de chat, the theatricality of this show was so accessible and evocative that it didn’t matter. The emotion was conveyed through grand gestures and subtle mime, with the orchestra swelling behind each dramatic turn.   One of the most memorable elements for me was the masquerade ball scene, where the entire ensemble moved in synchronisation to the Dance of the Knights. That iconic bass-driven score made the audience behind me audibly giddy with recognition. While Mercutio and Benvolio created clever distractions, Romeo and Juliet stole away for their first dance — a series of tender lifts and touches that built their entire relationship without a single word spoken. He literally swept her off her dainty feet.   Akane Takada’s portrayal of Juliet was a revelation. She embodied the delicate cusp of childhood and womanhood, playing with a doll one moment in a white gown of purity, then grappling with devastating adult choices the next. Akane was captivating in her innocence, playfulness, and vulnerability. As the ballet progressed, she transformed before our eyes into a woman full of passion, agency, and rebellion. Her final pas de deux with Romeo in her bedroom was breathtaking, with lifts and movements that looked effortless but demanded extraordinary skill. Calvin Richardson’s Romeo was just as nuanced — lovesick, impulsive, and completely enraptured. Romeo was the original king of main character energy. He fell in love, got married, killed a guy, got exiled, and died — all in under three hours. Together, they danced like two magnets, constantly drawn to each other. Their balcony pas de deux was a perfect blend of theatricality and technical mastery. Bathed in moonlight and accompanied by an organ-led score that built into a full orchestral swell, the pair expressed a declaration of love not through Shakespearean prose, but through intimate touch, sweeping lifts, and breathless closeness. Watching Akane melt into Calvin's arms was one of the most romantic moments I’ve ever seen on stage.   The remainder of the cast were just as beautiful in appearance and skill, but they could not shine quite as brightly as the the guest artists. Ivan Surodeev portrayed Mercutio with a cheeky charisma, embodying the friend who consistently stirs up chaos at pre-drinks. In contrast, Clayton Forsyth's Tybalt added intensity and fire. The sword fights were skilfully choreographed, yet I wish the elegance of ballet could have conveyed the gritty, real tension more effectively. The climatic deaths in this act were harrowing (largely due to Calvin's silent screams), with Mercutio and Tybalt both meeting their ends in stylised but deeply emotive sequences. The harlots, played by Georgia Swan, Laura Tosar, and Vanessa Morelli, were vibrant with their bouncing curls, colourful skirts, and irreverent energy. And the jesters in the marketplace scene had some wild costumes that reminded me of brushes in a carwash— hypnotic, playful, and impossible to look away from. In Act Three, the emotional stakes reached their peak. A particularly strong theatrical decision was Juliet's moment of complete stillness when she was compelled to consent to marrying Paris. It felt as if time stood still as she paused, weighing her options, while the orchestra crescendoed behind her. Paris (Patricio Revé) hoisted her like a rag doll as she disassociated from the present — her eyes vacant, her body slumped, avoiding his gaze — as she fluttered gracefully, appearing to float around the stage (is bourrée the correct term?)   And then came the tomb. What an ending. A moment that truly lingered with me was when Romeo, believing Juliet dead, danced with her lifeless body—his anguish clear, her limpness portrayed so delicately. And when Juliet awoke, discovered him dead, and ended her own life, the theatre held its breath. Her crawl back to Romeo after stabbing herself was so devastating and slow that you could hear a pin drop as that curtain came down. Even without a deep knowledge of ballet, I was completely immersed in the emotional power and visual spectacle of this production. Queensland Ballet have honoured the history and grandeur of this iconic ballet while infusing it with fresh talent, emotional depth, and unmatched beauty. I just wish I could have afforded a seat closer to the stage (or remembered to bring binoculars.) If this breathtaking ballet is the prologue, Queensland Ballet’s 65th season might just be their greatest love story yet. Photographs by David Kelly

A Spirited Journey Back in Time I had the pleasure of attending the Saturday 20th Feb evening performance of Footloose at Phoenix Ensemble in Beenleigh, and it was an absolute delight from start to finish. This production, set against the backdrop of a bygone era, skilfully captured the essence of a community grappling with local edicts imposed by a determined preacher seeking control over the town's youth. As a vocal teacher, I'm particularly attuned to strong vocal performances, and Footloose delivered. The trio of girls - Rusty, Wendy Jo, and Urleen - stole the spotlight with their purposeful and continuous renditions of 'Somebody's Eyes' and a spectacular execution of 'Holding Out for a Hero' alongside Ariel. The casting choices were top-notch, ensuring a harmonious and powerful vocal ensemble. The trio of silenced women singing 'Learning to be Silent' added a poignant layer to the narrative, showcasing the production's ability to navigate through nuanced themes. The upbeat dance numbers, including 'Mama Says,' 'Let's Hear It for the Boy,' and 'I Can't Stand Still,' were nothing short of electrifying, surpassing even the titular number of 'Footloose' in sheer enjoyment in my eyes. The choreography was energetic and engaging, filled with partner-work and classic canons. The final dance scene, featuring 80s-style outfits and Ren's sparkly blazer, was a visual and auditory treat. Andrew McArthur's portrayal of Reverend Shaw stood out for its convincing delivery, capturing the essence of the character with finesse. AJ Betts as Rusty and Della Days as Vi Moore both delivered the most natural and engaging performances that added authenticity to the production. Aidan Cobb's endearing portrayal of Willard was consistently delightful, and despite mic issues, he showcased fantastic vocal strength. The ensemble's constant engagement and clever acting choices in the background, even during scenes focused on the leads, provided an additional source of amusement, creating a dynamic and engaging atmosphere. Yasmin Fitzgerald brought a delightful and refreshing version of Ariel that stood out from the familiar movie character. Her acting was beautifully natural, her vocals powerful and never-tiring, and her gorgeous costumes added to the overall visual appeal. Sam Caruana's portrayal of Ren was nothing short of terrific. With a powerful voice, natural charisma, and moves reminiscent of Kevin Bacon, Caruana embodied the character with finesse. His performance contributed significantly to the overall enjoyment of the evening. Overall, Footloose at Phoenix Ensemble was an enjoyable night filled with joy and adoration from the audience. The well-crafted performances, dynamic choreography, and the cast's undeniable chemistry and heart made it a memorable experience. Kudos to the entire team for bringing the nostalgic spirit of Footloose to life in spectacular fashion!

Braving Cyclone Alfred’s best efforts to shut Brisbane down, I had the privilege of attending the opening (and only) night of Opera Queensland’s La Cenerentola before the city ground to a halt. And what a dazzling night it was—three hours (including intermission) of sumptuous bel canto, glorious orchestrations, and some seriously wonderful wigs and costumes. Composed when Rossini was just 25 in post-Napoleonic Italy, the opera brims with dazzling melodies, incisive satire, and a hopeful vision of a better world. La Cenerentola  is a celebration of goodness triumphing over status, a theme that rings as true today as it did in Rossini’s time. The audience, adorned in our finest floral cocktail attire, were greeted by delicate decor and a stunning set. A sheer white curtain concealed the Concert Hall's pipe organ, while flowers adorned the surtitles (which, fortunately, were easy to read once I remembered to wear my glasses, as I don't speak Italian). Although minimal, the set was swathed in greenery and blooms, evoking a fairy tale world where grandeur and whimsy intertwined.   Director Laura Hansford, like many millennials raised on Disney, was enchanted by fairy tales and now wonders how they fit into our chaotic modern world. Originally, these stories served as cautionary tales—warnings wrapped in fantasy. Nowadays, you don’t need a bedtime story to get your daily dose of doom; just flick on the news or check your phone. “Reality itself feels like a cautionary tale, with all of the warnings and none of the magic.” Rather than a passive heroine waiting for Prince Charming to show up, this Cinderella story celebrates strength through compassion. As Hansford puts it, “Choosing to be kind—actively, deliberately, and against all odds—is an act of strength.” La Cenerentola  takes a slightly different approach to the familiar Cinderella tale—gone are the glass slippers and fairy godmother, replaced instead with a clever (and slightly convoluted) case of mistaken identity, an opportunistic stepfather, and an ending that prioritises kindness and forgiveness over retribution. Angelina, unwavering in the face of cruelty, serves her stepfather Don Magnifico and her spoiled stepsisters, Clorinda and Tisbe. Prince Ramiro, seeking a virtuous wife, swaps roles with his valet, Dandini, to observe the true nature of his potential brides. Disguised as a beggar, the Prince's tutor Alidoro visits Don Magnifico's home, where the stepsisters dismiss him, but Angelina offers him food. The sisters fawn over Dandini (posing as the Prince), while Angelina—enchanted by the valet (actually the real Prince)—pleads with her stepfather to let her attend the grand ball. Don Magnifico refuses, threatening her if she dares challenge her place. However, Alidoro assures Angelina that her kindness will be rewarded and arranges for her to attend the ball—no fairy godmother required. At the ball, Angelina’s true nature shines beneath her masked allure. She turns down Dandini’s advances, declaring her love for the valet, unaware that he is the real Prince. When the charade is finally dropped, Ramiro professes his love, but Angelina insists that if he truly cares for her, he must find her and accept her for who she really is, leaving behind a bracelet. Ramiro finds her, declares his love, and despite Magnifico and his daughters' continued belittlement, Angelina forgives them, showing true strength through compassion.   Bel canto—the Italian art of beautiful singing—was on full display, with the cast showcasing exquisite technique: legato phrasing, effortless agility, and impeccable breath control. The result? A masterclass in vocal artistry. At the heart of it all was our Cinderella—Angelina, played by the luminous Mara Gaudenzi. She was everything one could desire in a leading lady: vocally divine, endlessly graceful, and utterly enchanting. Her voice soared through the hall with impeccable bel canto, glowing with warmth and effortlessly navigating Rossini’s fiendishly difficult coloratura. Her final aria, Nacqui all’affanno , was a stunning exhibition of vocal precision and emotional depth, leaving the audience in stunned silence before bursting into thunderous applause. She depicted Angelina with an endearing sincerity, making her journey from mistreated servant to triumphant princess all the more gratifying. Her costumes elegantly reflected her character, featuring a wig reminiscent of Rapunzel, with a long, delicate braid cascading over her shoulder. The scene-stealing stepsisters, Clorinda (Sarah Crane) and Tisbe (Hayley Sugars), made their grand entrance in gowns of hot pink excess—exaggerated hips, floral embellishments, and wigs so enormous they could have walked straight out of the Capitol in The Hunger Games . These two were deliciously ridiculous, with every absurd movement and wide-eyed expression delighting the audience. Even from my seat towards the back, I noticed every smirk, pout, and ridiculous pose. Their voices were as remarkable as their comedic timing, blending flawlessly while also vying for sole attention. James Roser’s Don Magnifico, the gloriously garbed patriarch, was a masterclass in buffo baritone brilliance. His floral suit and cape matched his flamboyant personality and comedic flair. Whether scheming for his daughters' rise to royalty or bumbling through social embarrassment, he captivated the audience, and his patter singing was outstanding. An Italian opera wouldn't be complete without an entire number devoted to drinking wine, and Roser's performance made it one of the evening's standout moments. As for the Prince, Petr Nekoranec as Ramiro exuded charm and charisma, his golden tenor soaring through Rossini’s demanding passages with ease. His chemistry with Mara Gaudenzi was beautiful, and their duets shimmered with playful energy and romantic tenderness. One of the show’s most crowd-pleasing moments featured him dramatically stripping off his disguise mid-aria as he and Dandini swapped clothes. Speaking of, the dynamic between Prince Ramiro (Petr Nekoranec) and his valet Dandini (Samuel Dundas) was pure delight, their witty exchanges and role-swapping antics infusing the opera with even more warm, joyful charm. Dundas, in particular, milked every ounce of comedy from his masquerade as the prince, revelling in the regal persona. These shenanigans as the Prince's bestie (who is always rooting for him) made him a personal favourite. His growing exasperation with Magnifico's obliviousness, believing Dandini's confession was just a delay tactic for choosing which daughter to marry, was hilarious—I swear, no one gets to the point slower than in an Italian opera. The storm scene drew chuckles from the audience, its timing almost too perfect given the real cyclone brewing outside. The Prince and Dandini even took their floral umbrellas into the front row, playfully trying Cinderella’s bracelet on audience members. Shaun Brown as Alidoro, the “fairy godfather,” was a delight in his striking purple attire. His character, a benevolent mentor rather than a magical entity, added much warmth to the ensemble of larger-than-life characters. A memorable moment was his argument with Magnifico—witnessing two men engage in an operatic debate in Italian was something I never expected to experience. One of the more curious visual choices was the male ensemble’s costumes, which had them looking rather like sentient shrubbery. While I’m sure there was a deeper artistic meaning behind this, I was far too engrossed in the leads’ dazzling costumes to unravel it. Costume designers Karen Cochet and Bianca Bulley created a visual feast with their lavish and whimsical creations. Angelina's transformation was subtly magical. Instead of a dramatic costume change, she emerged at the ball in a modest, long-sleeved white gown—a fitting choice for a Cinderella who succeeds not through spells, but through inner strength. Her grand pink coat added a touch of drama, and her intricate hairstyle and mask enhanced the elegance. The lighting design bathed the stage in ethereal hues of pink, purple, and blue, with twinkling lights illuminated behind the dramatic curtain.   Rossini’s music was performed by the Queensland Symphony Orchestra and conducted with verve by Richard Mills. The melodies tumbled over each other like an unstoppable cascade of joy, perfectly mirroring the opera’s effervescent charm. Sure, at times the pacing could have benefited from a little editing, but when the music is this good, who’s really complaining? And of course, Narelle French’s chorus direction ensured that every moment of ensemble singing was as rich and precise as the score demanded. The instances when the entire ensemble sang together at breakneck speed—especially during the Act One finale—were electrifying.   And then there was the ending—no dramatic comeuppance for the wicked stepfamily, no poetic justice served cold. Instead, Angelina chooses to forgive them, proving once and for all that kindness is not a weakness but a strength. As petals rained down from the high ceiling, I found myself swept up in the magic of it all. Opera Queensland’s La Cenerentola was a perfect combination of musical virtuosity, and humorous and heartfelt theatricality. As my first opera experience, I couldn’t have wished for a more magnificent introduction. Let's hope the next one won’t be rudely disrupted by a cyclone.

Performance Pieces: Domine ad adjuvandum me festina  RV593 Beatus vir  RV597 Stabat Mater  RV621 Magnificat  RV610 Performers: Soloists: Sara Macliver, Madeline Gibbs, Michael Burden, Shannon Leonard Brisbane Chamber Choir: 26 choristers Brisbane Chamber Players: 14 musicians   Alright, folks, brace yourselves for my first venture into classical music reviews! I entered the QLD Conservatorium Theatre ready to be swept away by the sophisticated grandeur of sacred choral music. While I may not be a scholar of Vivaldi's polyphony, I do recognise quality music when I hear it—and a little Latin never hurt anyone (thankfully, the program had translations). And look, I’ve heard plenty of Vivaldi in my time—usually through tinny laptop speakers on a “Vivaldi for Studying”  playlist—but experiencing it live, performed by musicians of this calibre? That’s a whole different ballgame. The acoustics of the QLD Conservatorium Theatre provided the perfect resonance for the lush choral textures, allowing each harmonic shift and instrumental nuance to stand out in an expansive yet intimate way. The orchestra—small but mighty, with ten string players, two oboes, and two organists—was beautifully balanced, wrapping the audience in a rich, immersive soundscape. The Brisbane Chamber Choir, led by the esteemed Dr. Graeme Morton (whom I actually know from my alma mater, St Peters Lutheran College—small world!), delivered exactly what I anticipated: utter excellence. The four soloists seamlessly blended into the choral fabric of the Brisbane Chamber Choir, stepping forward as required. Renowned soprano Sara Macliver radiated elegance, countertenor Michael Burden’s ethereal tone was hypnotic, and both Madeline Gibbs and Shannon Leonard showcased remarkable tone and agility in their solos. A Bit of Context (for Those of Us Without a Latin Degree) Since I am but a humble reviewer and not a Vatican-certified Latin scholar, I'll discuss the four pieces in the sequence they were performed, concentrating on the music and presentation, rather than the lyrics. What’s important to know is that these selections showcased Vivaldi’s development—from his earlier sacred compositions to the grand, full-bodied pieces of his prime, where complex vocal lines and expansive orchestration reigned supreme. For those of us less familiar with sacred choral traditions (guilty), Vespers is an evening prayer service marking the setting of the sun. In the Western Christian tradition, it was the only daily sung office where polyphony was permitted—allowing composers to experiment with harmonies, counterpoint, and choral textures. Antonio Vivaldi composed extensively for the foundling girls of the Ospedale della Pietà in Venice, shaping a rich and expressive choral sound that it still captivates audiences centuries later. Act 1: The Opening Song of Glory ( Domine ad adjuvandum me festina  RV593) The concert kicked off with this vibrant piece from Vivaldi’s flamboyant middle period (the 1720s—yes, composers also have "eras" like Taylor Swift). This composition showcases polychoral writing; meaning two orchestras and two choirs bouncing off each other like a well-rehearsal musical tennis match.   Act 2: The Marathon Masterpiece ( Beatus vir  RV597) This one was a workout. Based on Psalm 111, this piece was truly Vivaldi flexing his compositional genius. With eleven movements  and a structure that frequently revisits its opening chorus, Beatus vir  is a work of grandeur and complexity. The interplay between the two choirs and orchestras resulted in an elaborate and dramatic display of vocal and instrumental brilliance, with conductor Graeme Morton masterfully juggling all the complex counterpoints as if he had four arms!   The 26 choristers of the Brisbane Chamber Choir were truly in their element, performing in Latin as if it were their native tongue. Each time the refrain was repeated, it felt like a moment of collective triumph as the choir took the spotlight. The duet between Sara Macliver and Madeline Gibbs was especially heavenly; I'm pretty sure I momentarily ascended. Their melismatic runs were so agile and smooth that I might have shed a tear into my program out of pure envy. Then there was Michael Burden, whose countertenor voice (a rare and extraordinary talent) was so ethereal that I half-expected a divine beam of light to descend upon him mid-performance. And spare a thought for Shannon Leonard, whose tenor aria demanded Olympic-level vocal dexterity as he sang about the wicked. (No, not that   Wicked —though I’d love to hear Vivaldi’s take of Elphaba’s big number.) I'll also take a moment to appreciate the organs—especially the mischievous little interlude with a carnival-esque flair. Who knew church music could sound so playful? Vivaldi, you brilliant mastermind. What struck me most here was not just the musical skill on display but the emotional journey it took the performers and the audience on—truly an act of sacred storytelling through sound.   Act 3: A Study in Solemnity ( Stabat Mater RV621) Ah, yes, the mood shift. Stabat Mater  is all about sorrow, suffering, and lamentation—Vivaldi’s mournful reflection of Mary’s grief after the crucifixion. As his earliest surviving sacred work, it serves as a profound meditation on the anguish of Christ’s mother, with the intensity increasing throughout its nine movements.   Michael Burden was the featured soloist for this piece. There’s something devastatingly beautiful about a lone voice carrying so much weight. Both delicate and powerful, Burden embodied the lamenting figure of Mary. Vivaldi's minimal use of instrumentation here, combined with Burden's unique tone, created a haunting intimacy, demonstrating that sometimes, less is more in musical storytelling. The unrelenting minor key sustained the tension, which was only resolved in the concluding ‘ Amen ,’ where a solitary major chord alluded to Easter's promise of redemption.   Act 4: A Triumphant Conclusion (Magnificat RV610) And just like that, we returned to joy! The performance concluded on a triumphant note with Vivaldi’s Magnificat, a jubilant celebration of Mary’s miraculous pregnancy. Unlike most versions of the Magnificat composed for female choirs, this arrangement featured a full choral spectrum, enriched by deeper male voices. The audience's resounding applause was thoroughly deserved after 90 minutes of Vivaldi without a break. As a delightful surprise, the ensemble treated us to a snippet of Spring  from The Four Seasons as an encore—a fitting way to end a show devoted to Vivaldi’s genius.   Final Thoughts Vivaldi’s world was filled with sacred music—echoing through churches, orphanages, and the homes of the elite—but also one of Camerate, where musicians gathered to revel in the sheer joy of music-making. The Brisbane Chamber Choir and Players' Vivaldi Vespers   transported us straight into that world, delivering a performance brimming with polyphonic beauty, endurance, and masterful musicianship. As a season opener, it was both ambitious and triumphant. With a world-class choir, a finely-conducted orchestra, and exceptional soloists, the performance was dramatic, moving, and unexpectedly exhilarating! A huge thank you for my ticket to my first Brisbane Chamber Choir concert—you can bet it won’t be my last.   Upcoming Concerts Use the code ‘VESPERS’ to receive $10 off the next two concerts: Reincarnations  – 25th April Transcendence  – 4th July

Beenleigh Theatre Group didn’t just open their 2025 season—it BURST onto the stage in a riot of sequins, soaring music, and unstoppable energy in ' The Boy From Oz.' From the first note, the orchestra was pitch-perfect, the cast delivered knockout performances, and the leading performer’s sheer charisma could’ve powered the entire theatre. From laughter to heartbreak, the show swept us through Peter Allen’s extraordinary life—from small-town dreamer to international stardom. Packed with iconic hits and electrifying choreography, it was a night to remember. The show bounced between three timelines—Peter’s childhood in Armidale, his climb to stardom, and his final concert, performed directly to us in the audience. The set was beautiful, with multiple pianos (of course), including a grand and an upright that transported us back to his early days. A starry backdrop and a central stairway brought the necessary showbiz glamour. And then there was the elevated 15-piece orchestra upstage—under the musical direction of Nate Stevenson—bringing Peter Allen’s signature sound to life. Lachlan Dodd’s direction masterfully captured both the razzle-dazzle of Peter Allen’s showbiz persona and the raw vulnerability beneath it. He kept the energy high in the big numbers while allowing the quieter, more intimate moments to breathe—ensuring the heart of Peter’s story always remained front and centre.   At the heart of the show, Jaya Fisher Smith is Peter Allen. A true triple threat, they embodied Peter's spirit with boundless energy, cheeky humour, and a magnetic connection with the audience. From the opening number ' Not the Boy Next Door ', Jaya was unstoppable—diving into the role with charisma that brought to mind the legendary Hugh Jackman (and I can attest to this, having had the incredible experience of performing with Hugh during the 2006 Brisbane tour of The Boy From Oz ). Jaya never faltered. They were constantly in motion, likely only offstage to change costumes and gulp down some water before reappearing full-throttle. Their improv skills were razor-sharp, effortlessly charming the audience with witty remarks. Plus, the fabulous shirts were in abundance! Ballads like ' Best That You Can Do ' and ' Tenterfield Saddler ' were standout moments, where Jaya transitioned from the larger-than-life Peter to his more tender side. They moved between Peter’s classic Aussie accent and the hybrid accent he picked up later, showcasing impressive vocal versatility. But it wasn’t just Jaya’s voice that shone. Their phenomenal dancing skills were also on full display, making this performance a true masterclass in showmanship. The energy Jaya brought to the stage was off the charts—every move, every note, and every grin was infused with pure star power. Special mention must also go to Koby Walsh, who portrayed Young Peter Allen in a role shared with Jeremiah Rees. Koby sang ' Name in Lights ' with tons of youthful energy every time. The audience adored him from start to finish, and he earned big cheers for his impressive tap dancing skills. Throughout it all, Jaya, always watching from close by, looked on with a sense of nostalgia and pride. Sarah Lea’s portrayal of Judy Garland was uncanny. She commanded the stage with a mesmerising presence at all times, even in her spiritual form. From her unsteady mannerisms to her sharp wit, Sarah beautifully captured the essence of the older Judy Garland. Her vocal performances, particularly ' All I Wanted Was the Dream' and ' Don’t Wish Too Hard' , left the audience in awe. Equally impressive was Ashleigh Mitchell’s portrayal of Liza Minnelli. Ashleigh owned every moment she was on stage, with seemingly limitless vocal and dance power. It was ' She Loves to Hear the Music' that truly showcased her talent. Each outfit she wore was pure Liza perfection, capturing the bold, glamorous style Liza was known for. Ashleigh’s charisma brought Liza’s larger-than-life personality to the stage with ease, while her portrayal of the moment she left Peter was brutally honest and emotionally raw.   Patrick Lockyer brought warmth and sincerity to his portrayal of Peter’s longtime partner, Greg Connell. I was fully absorbed in their love story, especially as the show delved into its later years during the AIDS crisis. His rendition of ' I Honestly Love You ' was beautifully heartfelt, resonating as a powerful reminder of how far we've come in accepting queer love stories. The trio of Phoebe Imberger, Anna Ryan, and Ruby Thompson were absolute stars—gorgeous singers and dancers with perfectly balanced three-part harmonies, paired with gorgeous go-go boots that were the perfect 60s nod. Janice Hancock’s portrayal of Marion Woolnough radiated warmth and classic Aussie mum humour. Her heartfelt rendition of ' Don’t Cry Out Loud'  was a standout moment, embodying Marion’s unwavering belief in Peter’s dreams. She was his rock from the very start, a constant source of love and encouragement. Andrew McArthur tackled multiple roles with skill, but it was his portrayal of Peter’s father that left a haunting impact—a shadowy, traumatic presence lingering in Peter’s subconscious. As the show moved into Peter’s later years, the weight of loss became more palpable, with the deaths of Judy and Greg marking some of the most emotionally raw moments.   And then there was ' I Still Call Australia Home '—an iconic moment. Jaya, draped in that sequined Australian flag shirt, led the ensemble in breathtaking harmonies. Sure, there were microphone issues (Jaya’s mic seemed cursed that night), but they projected like a pro, undeterred. As the show moved to its crescendo, the ensemble delivered everything they had. The upbeat numbers like 'Bi-Coastal'  and 'Everything Old is New Again'  were fabulous, of course. But what truly elevated them was Jennifer B Ashley’s choreography—some of the best I’ve seen from BTG—high energy, stylish, and completely fitting for Peter Allen’s flamboyant world. By the time ' I Go to Rio'  rolled around, the entire theatre was electric with maracas, flashy costumes, boundless enthusiasm—it was everything you’d want from a grand finale. Jaya even leapt into the splits. THE SPLITS . Who does that after almost three hours of belting their heart out?   The show ran a bit long due to Jaya's fourth-wall-breaking and audience engagement, but I wouldn’t have cut a second of it. And just when we thought the energy had peaked, ' Once Before I Go'  landed—a final, emotional gut-punch. Fresh off the wildly exhausting Rio , Jaya was visibly out of breath, but it didn’t matter. They delivered, as they had all night, with heart, soul, and staggering talent.   All in all, ' The Boy From Oz'  was a glorious celebration of a true Australian legends. From dazzling choreography to show-stopping numbers, this was a production I’d happily watch again and again. If Peter Allen were here, I think he’d be proud. I know I was.

Absolute Trash (indeed, that's the cabaret's title), presented by Glitter Martini, took cabaret, circus, and comedy, tossed them into the recycling bin, and pulled them out again in a spectacular, chaotic, and utterly brilliant display. The evening featured trashy confessions, absurd puppetry, and astonishing talent, all enveloped in an eco-conscious, upcycled fever dream. Before the show even began, the audience was encouraged to text in their trashiest confessions, and oh boy, they were juicy. Our host for the evening, the divine Natrasha Binit (Trent Charles), strutted onto the stage in a dress made from literal garbage bags—only for it to transform into an ensemble of Woolies reusable bags—because sustainability is sexy. With her towering green heels and cheeky wit, Natrasha kept the energy high, reading out the audience’s anonymously texted confessions—a game that quickly descended into absolute filth. The unanimous winner? A bloke who, while traveling, unknowingly took a dump in an open grave at a sacred site, only to bolt in horror as a funeral procession approached. His prize? A tiara and bin chicken socks. Iconic. The show kicked off with dancers in hazmat suits stripping down to their underwear—made entirely of plastic wrappers—while grinding to ‘ Filthy .’ What followed was a smorgasbord of circus and comedy acts, each more ridiculous and impressive than the last. Aerialists clad in pink plastic bags (Elena Khaw and Rachel Ray) performed a mesmerising routine so fluid and in sync that I felt my muscles cramping just watching them. Darcie Rae, as a sexy polar bear on fire (a metaphor for climate change if there ever was one), performed a stunning aerial trapeze routine to a mashup of ‘ Stayin’ Alive’ and ‘ Hot in Herre .’ Her strength made an act that seemed impossibly challenging into one of effortless elegance. Rachel Ray dazzled with an electrifying hula hoop act set to a remix of ‘ Toxic ,’ her illuminated hoops twirling in hypnotic patterns. Darcie also balanced a full wine glass on her forehead while stripping, striking powerful poses, and performing the splits—a true display of raw talent. Then came the bin chickens. Calum Johnston’s ibis puppet performance was an utter fever dream—strange yet moving. The girls behind me were laughing so hard that one almost wet her pants when ' Close to You ' by the Carpenters began playing. In another display of absurdity, Calum later swallowed and regurgitated a balloon. I have no idea how or why, but I do know that I wanted to gag, despite knowing it was just a magic trick.   One of the best comedy moments was the upcycling clothes tutorial act. In a pointedly hilarious bit, our guide declared, "You deserve to be villainised for fast fashion even though it's the only thing you can afford as your grocery bills continue to climb thanks to the effects of climate change and capitalism." Naturally, the solution involved wrapping contortionist Elena Khaw in cling wrap, creating a fashion monstrosity before she performed an astonishing contortion act (in heels!) to ‘ Wrap Me in Plastic.’ The final punchline? "Are you climate change? ‘Cause you're hot as hell, and I don’t see a future between us." I lost it. Music and sound choices throughout the night were impeccable, from a rubber chicken opera (yes, really) to a perfectly placed Oscar the Grouch snippet. The entire stage was soon littered with trash (purposefully, of course), with costumes and set pieces crafted from repurposed materials. Even the specialty cocktail for the evening—aptly named ‘bin juice’—was on brand.   Then arrived the ultimate audience participation moment. Four brave souls took up rubber chickens to play a symphony to the ' Can-Can .' Just when I thought things couldn’t get any wilder, the cast handed out more rubber chickens from KFC buckets for the entire audience to squeeze in time to the white-trash anthem, ‘ Sweet Caroline ,’ culminating in an epic chicken-throwing finale aimed at Natrasha.   Absolute Trash was everything it promised to be: hilarious, sexy, absurd, and surprisingly elegant in its execution. Underneath all the filth and silliness, it was an expertly curated cabaret with genuinely jaw-dropping talent. The lighting (designed by Steven May) bathed the stage in lush greens and pinks, elevating the glamorous trashiness. The entire cast brought a riotous energy to the stage, blending circus, cabaret, and comedy into a performance that felt both spontaneous and well-rehearsed.   Arcana Brisbane, with its intimate yet dynamic space, was the ideal venue for the show, allowing for up-close interaction and a vibrant atmosphere (although sight-lines did detract slightly). Every act had a purpose, and every joke hit its mark. They even managed to meet the criteria of a sustainable, high-quality, and high-impact show—proving that even trash can be turned into treasure. Absolute Trash may have been a celebration of garbage, but there was nothing second-hand about the talent on display. Photos by Creative Futures Photography

"A Chorus Line" is an electrifying production that transports you straight into the heart of a 1975 Broadway audition. Conceived and originally directed and choreographed by Michael Bennett, with music and lyrics by Marvin Hamlisch and Edward Kleban, and a book by James Kirkwood and Nicholas Dante, this show remains a timeless classic, and the On the Boards Theatre Company delivers it with flair and finesse. I'll begin this review by urging you to act fast and secure a ticket NOW before they close tonight. The theatre is spacious, much bigger than expected, and the audience should be at full capacity in my honest opinion. Synopsis: Set in the mid-70s, the story unfolds during an audition for a new Broadway show. Zach, the director, and his assistant Lori (portrayed by Mikaela Drewett), select 17 dancers from a sea of hopefuls. Zach must eventually narrow it down to just 8 individuals – four men and four women. However, before making his decision, he wants to delve deeper into their personal lives to gauge how well they can work together. The dancers, initially reticent, gradually open up through a series of songs, dances, and monologues that reveal their motivations and struggles. As auditions draw to a close, Zach faces the tough decision of choosing the members of his chorus line. Creative Team and Cast: Under the leadership of director Lyn Pelgrave, choreographer Sarah Cooper, and musical director Robert Clarke, the creative team has put together a performance that is not only impeccably executed but also profoundly moving. The remarkable cast, a mix of seasoned performers and promising newcomers, is brilliantly selected by director Lyn Pelgrave. Many of them are studying musical theatre or are graduates, with experience spanning from local stages to international performances, including the Disney company. Each performer must excel in dancing, singing, and acting, embodying the true essence of a triple threat. Fortunately, Brisbane is abundant with such versatile talent. Whether executing energetic dance sequences or powerful vocal solos, every cast member rises to the occasion. Their clear articulation in authentic American accents ensures that the audience follows every story clearly. While the cast's vocals are generally terrific, with the Australian accent occasionally peeking through, the overall musicality remains strong. The entire cast's dedication is clearly visible as they give their all throughout the performance. Despite the demanding nature of the show, which requires substantial endurance, they remain undeterred. Every scene is well-rehearsed and polished; and if there were any mishaps, they went unnoticed. "A Chorus Line" boasts a phenomenal score and book, cementing it as a no-skip soundtrack that should be embraced by more theatre companies, in my opinion. Despite its 1975 origins, this Tony Award-winning musical remains engaging and relevant with today's audiences. Performers: As the audience settles in, the stage buzzes with activity, mimicking the atmosphere of a Broadway dance call. The dancers, already in character, stretch and chat, giving the audience an immediate sense of their personas. The set features four movable mirrors and the distinctive line across the stage floor that becomes the focal point of the show. The costumes, inspired by the 1970s era, instantly transport the audience back in time, setting the stage for an evening of nostalgia and emotion. The show kicks off with the iconic "5, 6, 7, 8," and the original choreography, faithfully reproduced, instantly connects with any musical theatre aficionado. "I Hope I Get It" delivers a surge of excitement, concluding with the cast of 17 lining up in their characters' poses to reveal a glimpse of their personalities from the get-go. Doll Hunt's portrayal of Zach, the director orchestrating the auditions, is palpable. Even though he spends much of the show standing at the back of the theatre, his commanding presence is noticeable. His voice fills the space, prompting the cast to project their performances to the upper back of the audience. He guides the dancers through their paces and occasionally steps forward into the light to heighten the drama of key moments. Despite his physical separation, Hunt’s portrayal of Zach is intimate, revealing his deep understanding of dancers' aspirations and vulnerabilities.   The show's structure allows each performer a moment to shine, and the cast makes the most of these opportunities. Patrick Davis shines in the role of Mike, delivering the first solo "I Can Do That" with a burst of energy that sets a high bar for the rest of the show. His background as an actual Broadway-trained dancer is apparent in his flawless execution and charismatic stage presence. The trio of Sheila (Cassidy Newell), Maggie (Sophie Jamieson), and Bebe (Hannah McNamara) come together to deliver "At the Ballet" with beautiful harmonies and moving storytelling. Newell’s Sheila is magnetic, her flirty exterior masking a deeper vulnerability. Jamieson’s Maggie adds a delicate and enchanting vocal quality touch to the number, while McNamara’s Bebe anchors the trio with her powerful and controlled singing voice. This particular performance stands out due to its intricate choreography and ballet elements taking place upstage. Ruben Newlands as Bobby and Jeremy Adams as Richie are featured in the song "And...". As Bobby recounts his bizarre story, the other characters voice their inner anxieties, creating a humorous juxtaposition. Newlands' miming contributes to the comedy and showcases the exceptional acting talent present in this production. The married characters Al (Oscar Fisher) and Kristine (Anandi Jordan) bring a delightful interlude with their duet "Sing!" Jordan portrays Kristine with sweet charm, who humorously lacks singing abilities, while Fisher's supportive portrayal of Al creates an endearing dynamic.   Mark, portrayed by the impressive 14-year-old Liam Francis, kicks off the lively and nostalgic number "Hello Twelve, Hello Thirteen, Hello Love." This segment recounts the characters' teenage years with humour and relatable moments. Molly Hitson charmingly depicts Connie's struggles with her height, while Sienna Randall candidly portrays Diana's challenges with acting. Randall consistently stands out in her performances due to her exceptional voice, expressive use of facial expressions and physicality, and extensive dance training. Although I was not familiar with her solo "Nothing," it is a remarkable song that ironically demonstrates her acting abilities. In "Mother," Matilda Hodgen shines as Judy, skillfully incorporating comedic miming and delivering interspersed unhinged dialogue with a flawless American accent. Additionally, Casey Martin impresses in the role of Gregory, sharing a comically awkward moment from his adolescence. Martin embodies the qualities of a musical theatre star in a way that must be witnessed to be fully appreciated. Also featured in this segment, Jacob Keay as Don portrays the charming and charismatic character effortlessly.   Val, portrayed by Madelaine O'Hare, commands attention with ease as she monologues before her solo performance of “Dance: Ten; Looks: Three”. This stands out as a particularly memorable moment, combining humor and charm. It's definitely one of my favourite parts of the show, and if you're familiar with the lyrics, you'll understand why. Victoria Lancaster as Cassie performs "The Music and the Mirror" with grace and strength. Her dance solo, set amidst mirrors and adorned in a striking red dress, captivates both visually and emotionally. This solo showcases Lancaster's actual Broadway training, exuding confidence and expression through her physicality, clear vocals, and beautiful smile.   Paul, played by Harrison Leis, delivers a deeply emotional moment in the show with his raw and heartbreaking monologue about his past. Leis's ability to convey such a traumatic story with grace and sincerity, evoking tears from the character and revealing the compassionate side of the director to the audience.   While rehearsing the closing number, "One," the audience is treated to powerful unison vocals and precise synchronised movements for this iconic top hat routine. Additionally, the tap dancing in chorus heels is remarkably impressive, especially given their exhaustion at that point. As the director asks, "What do you do when you can no longer dance?" the characters are prompted to reflect on their reasons and passion for dancing. Ultimately, the group forms a cohesive bond, mirroring the genuine experiences of the cast, I believe. Sienna Randall leads us into the group number "What I Did for Love," which, in my opinion, stands as one of the greatest compositions in musical theatre. The ensemble's harmonies build up to a poignant and intense peak, showcasing musical director's remarkable skill in blending their vocals. In this number, the cast remains still, relying solely on their voices to express profound emotions.   The final transformation into the iconic gold costumes presents a dazzling display. The intricate choreography and relentless energy, particularly during the closing kick line, serve as a perfect conclusion to an extraordinary performance. The cast's ability to sustain their energy and smiles despite the demanding nature of the show is a true testament to the commitment and passion that epitomises "A Chorus Line." Technical Elements: Technically, the production excels. The microphones, with their reverberant quality, perfectly project to the back of the theatre, enhancing the performance's auditory experience. The backing tracks are produced with such high quality that they could be easily be mistaken for a live orchestra. Bryce Delaney's lighting design not only sets the mood but accentuates the emotional highs and lows of the characters' journeys. The deliberate positioning of spotlights to highlight specific characters, as perceived from the director's perspective, has a impactful effect, capturing the audience's focus and adding a dramatic flair. The modern and accessible-friendly amenities at The Star Theatre (Wynnum) guarantee a pleasant experience for all spectators. The ample seating and excellent sightlines enhance the viewing experience, ensuring that all attendees can fully enjoy the performance. It is important to remember that "A Chorus Line" was written in 1975, which means that some pop culture references may be difficult to understand. Despite the progress our society has made in terms of acceptance since then, the musical still serves as a tribute to the struggles and successes of past generations of performers. These historical stories emphasise the enduring relevance of pursuing one's passion despite obstacles from society. This staging of "A Chorus Line" goes beyond being a mere performance; it serves as a tribute to the thriving arts community in Brisbane. By featuring performers who have trained and worked internationally, it bridges the gap between local and global theatre, enriching the cultural landscape of our city. On the Boards Theatre Company has delivered a production that is both faithful to the original and refreshingly relevant. It’s a show that not only entertains but also touches the soul, reminding us of the beauty and pain inherent in the pursuit of our passions. Whether you’re a die-hard fan of musical theatre or a newcomer to the genre, this production should not be missed. It encapsulates the essence of what makes live theatre so special – the shared human experience, the connection between performer and audience, and the magic that happens when a group of dedicated individuals come together to create something extraordinary.

Ipswich Musical Theatre Company’s production of ' A Little Night Music'  is a stunning showcase of Stephen Sondheim’s complex musical brilliance. Performed at the intimate Old Courthouse in Ipswich from February 2nd to 15th, the production, with music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim and book by Hugh Wheeler, is beautifully directed by Robert Shearer, with impeccable musical direction by Rhonda Davidson-Irwin. The result is a sumptuous evening of romance, intrigue, and musical mastery. The house is completely sold out—and for good reason. This Tony Award-winning musical, set in 1900 Sweden, masterfully weaves a tangled web of love and infidelity, centred around the alluring actress Desirée Armfeldt and the married men who vie for her affection: the conflicted Fredrik Egerman and the pompous Count Carl-Magnus Malcolm. With its witty exploration of human folly, Sondheim’s creation continues to feel fresh more than 50 years after its Broadway debut. From the outset, the small staging area of the Old Courthouse presents challenges, but the creative team has utilised the space well, even if some blocking feels a touch awkward. The set and props convincingly evoke the era, complemented by standout period-accurate costumes and wigs by Delma Odger. Seeing the 6-piece orchestra up front and centre adds to the charm without detracting from the performance. Speaking of the orchestra, the music direction is truly spectacular. Sondheim's complex score is notoriously difficult, yet this ensemble of talented string musicians and pianist Ethan Coleman performs it beautifully, with conductor Rhonda Davidson-Irwin occasionally picking up her flute to join them. The Liebeslieder Singers are a highlight, embodying their roles with operatic elegance and providing a harmonious thread throughout the show. Particular standouts include David Hibbard and Anita Parakh-Morgan, whose voices shine in every number. The main cast provides some truly memorable performances. Michael Brandon Lewis excels as the commanding yet oddly endearing Count Carl-Magnus Malcolm. His stern demeanour, magnetic presence, and polished vocals are wonderful to witness. Opposite him, Kellie Wilson as Countess Charlotte Malcolm captivates with her sharp wit and strong delivery. Her depiction of a woman fully aware of her husband's infidelities yet resolute in preserving her dignity is both poignant and amusing. Mikayla Barratt as Anne Egerman, the young bride of Fredrik, is simply lovely. Her sweet, youthful voice and charming presence make Anne’s naivety endearing, though her faltering accent occasionally distracts. Bailey O'Mara brings passionate energy to Henrik Egerman, the tormented young man grappling with unrequited love and existential angst. His moments of rage are compelling and powerful. Michael Lawrence embodies Fredrik Egerman with the right mix of gravitas and sensitivity. His renditions of the solo “Now” and the duet “You Must Meet My Wife” alongside Fiona Kennedy as Desirée are handled deftly, thanks in part to the music director's noticeable guidance (understandable given the complexity of the score). However, it is his duet with the Count, “It Would Have Been Wonderful,” that truly stands out, echoing Sondheim’s other playful male duets like “Agony” from ' Into the Woods' . Regan Flor delivers a remarkable performance as Madame Armfeldt, with her solo "Liaisons" being an exceptional success. Despite joining the cast late, she delivers a powerful and stoic performance, executing every line with deadpan brilliance. Elizabeth Masu portrays Petra with vibrancy and energy. Her solo “The Miller’s Son” is a showstopper in Act Two, delivered with all the nuanced shifts Sondheim demands. She beautifully captures Petra’s dreams and resigned acceptance of her probable future. Bethanie Walsh captivates as Fredrika Armfeldt, Desirée's daughter, infusing the role with innocence, sweetness and poise. It's unfortunate that her character lacks more vocal opportunities, since I know Bethanie's voice is stunning. Fiona Kennedy as leading lady Desirée Armfeldt is captivating. She fully embodies the role with a perfect blend of drama, humour, and vulnerability. Her rendition of “Send in the Clowns” is heart-wrenching, sung with raw emotion and real tears in her eyes. The group numbers are exceptional, particularly the Act One closing “A Weekend in the Country,” which feels like a scene straight out of Bridgerton  but with music. The Act Two opener, "The Sun Won't Set," is aptly titled as the household continues with their duties, narrating the comedic chaos caused by all the ongoing affairs. They wish for the day to conclude, but since it's summer in Sweden, it just won't end. The lush harmonies and intricate melodies are executed with precision and grandeur. Another standout is “Every Day a Little Death,” a heartbreaking duet between Charlotte and Anne that perfectly captures the despair and disillusionment of their roles as wives. The scene transitions appeared unrehearsed, and the stagehands seemed unsure about handling the multiple curtains. But I did attend their opening performance, so hopefully, these issues have been refined for a shorter run time since then. Nevertheless, ' A Little Night Music' is a triumph for Ipswich Musical Theatre Company. The cast adeptly handles Sondheim's complex lyrics and melodies, offering a memorable performance. The inclusion of proper tea at intermission adds a delightful touch, making the entire experience feel wonderfully refined. This production is a testament to the enduring brilliance of Sondheim’s work and the immense talent of the Ipswich theatre community. If you’re lucky enough to snag a ticket, prepare for a performance filled with romance, wit, and exquisite music.

Presented by Mira Ball Productions Conceived by Salad Bowl Collective Produced and Directed by Elodie Boal and Trent Sellars Mira Ball Productions welcomed audiences into a mischievous world where renowned villains from theatre and cinema competed for the title of ultimate evildoer. In this Halloween-themed cabaret filled with unexpected musical twists, the villains got to shine as they've never shone before, merging familiar tunes with imaginative character interpretations in this irresistibly interactive cabaret.   With the lively Beetlejuice as the evening’s ghoulish host, the entire cast delivered universally strong performances, each actor bringing their own flair to their role. It was that clear they all relished the chance to explore these iconic characters. The audience’s enthusiasm was equally high, particularly during the interactive moments. As we entered the theatre, we were each bestowed with a glow stick, our beacon of willingness to be approached by the villains. It added a sprinkle of extra fun to the mix, and those in the front rows were treated to more up-close antics.   From the get-go, it was clear this production team put great effort into transforming iconic songs with clever lyrical changes tailored to each character's backstory and traits. Each villain’s performance displayed excellent musical direction by Georgia and Matt Leigh, and the choreography by Jennifer B Ashley balanced grandeur and campiness to make every movement entertaining.   Beetlejuice (Peter Wood) summoned this cast of notorious characters from beyond the grave to strut their sinister stuff. Leading the group in a rendition of 'Be Prepared' . Wood’s portrayal of the eccentric host was so convincing that they were unrecognisable—nailing the accent and exuding captivating charisma that set the perfect tone for the night.  It wasn't until later that night, when I checked the program, that I realised it was them! BJ's constant, witty exchanges with the audience kept the energy high, creating an atmosphere where viewers were invited to be a part of the action rather than mere spectators. The real-time voting system, which determined a unique "winner" for each performance, introduced an exciting element of suspense and diversity to the evening. As we moved through the “Awakening” and “Battle” acts, the show maintained a dynamic pace, giving each character their spotlight and steadily leading up to the final showdown. The creative team combined storytelling, music, and comedy to maintain a flow that kept the audience engaged without losing momentum in the majority of the performances.   Highlights from Act 1: Bonnie and Clyde  (Lauren Bensted and Sam Caruana) took the audience on a wild ride in ' The World Will Remember Us.' Their act was a whirlwind of flirtation and ferocity, featuring some epic dance moves and vocal chemistry. Wednesday Addams  (Gabby Ayoub) made a striking impression with her zombie-like delivery of ' Pulled' , capturing the character’s deadpan, dark humour flawlessly. She delivered an outstanding vocal performance, standing out among the many talented singers of the night. Captain Hook (Jaya Fisher-Smith) mesmerised the crowd with a lively performance of the ' Hook’s Waltz ', capturing both the pirate's allure and wickedness.  I couldn't stop laughing and clapping - their portrayal stood out as my top choice of the night! Thanks to their humour, vocal skill, accent, and the fact that they had to hold that hook the entire time. Bravo, Hook! The Mad Hatter  (Cameron Grimmett) delivered a compelling ' I Will Prevail'  from Wonderland,  a perfect fit for the character’s theatricality. Their whimsical costume and belting out powerful notes made for a wonderfully chaotic presence on stage; not to mention their habit of flinging teabags at everyone in sight. The Sanderson Sisters  (Kelsey Todd, Kennedy Foley, Samantha Sherrin) performed a harmoniously haunting yet playful remix of ' Come Little Children',  instantly transporting the audience to the mystical world of Hocus Pocus. A crowd favourite, these three performers were adorned in fabulously elaborate costumes and wigs and had the audience howling with laughter thanks to their impeccable comedic chemistry. King George III  (Beau Wykes) absolutely slayed the audience with their rendition of ' You’ll Be Back' , a Hamilton  performance that was fit for a king - both regal and downright hilarious. Cruella De Vil  (Antoinette James) commanded the stage with an edgy, modern version of 'Cruella De Vil,' accompanied by Sam and Jaya as her dancing “puppies”. Singing this version by Whitney Avalon must have been challenging, but she absolutely nailed it! Regina George  (Amelie Clark), another standout vocal display, brought a scathing rendition of ' World Burn', embodying the character's mean-girl allure and fierce attitude quite effectively. Mother Gothel  (Meg Kiddle) really took the character's obsession to a whole new level in her rendition of ' Mother Knows Best' . She hilariously fixated on Regina George's golden locks and teased her for her for being daft. Mrs Wormwood  (Madeleine Ford) brought down the house with ' Loud',  her vibrant energy and spot-on accent totally nailing Matilda’s notorious stage mom.   As Act 2 opened, the villains mingled with the audience in character, giving the voters a chance to experience the characters up close. The numbers in this act showcased more competitive flair, with characters squaring off to prove their villainy, with creative interpretations of familiar songs.   Highlights from Act 2: Mother Gothel, Gaston and Regina George  faced off in a “ego battle” where Gothel performed ' Evil Like Me' , Regina took on ' Bop to the Top',  and Gaston (Toby Redwood) humorously tackled ' Popular'  from Wicked,  a hilarious twist that saw Gaston parodying Glinda with exaggerated flair. Captain Hook dazzled the audience with his unexpected rendition of ' You’re a Mean One, Mr. Hook ', complete with a saucy striptease that revealed gold underwear, fishnets, and heels, causing the crowd to burst into fits of laughter and cheers. Wednesday Addams  delivered a brooding take on ' That’s Your Funeral', aimed at Beetlejuice as she and the Hatter restrained him, adopting Oliver Twist’s morbid wit as her own. The Sanderson Sisters  pulled off an outstanding parody of ' The Schuyler Sisters'  from Hamilton,  demonstrating impressive vocal synchronisation and stamina. Mrs Wormwood  brought a dazzling touch with her remix of ' Diamonds', aka 'Bubbles' while the Sanderson sisters enjoyed themselves with bubble machines. King George III  sent shockwaves with a daring rendition of ' Sweet Transvestite',  channelling Frank-N-Furter in a way only this monarch could. Cruella  took centre stage with ' See My Vest',  a cleverly wicked parody of ' Be Our Guest',  featuring the ensemble dressed in different outfits to match the lyrics, making it the most memorable group performance of the evening.   Each character retained their unique identity while seamlessly playing off one another, creating interactions that were as engaging as they were unexpected. The ensemble numbers, like ' Hell Block Tango'  and ' Master of the House',  showcased the cast’s versatility and cohesive energy. The clever lyric modifications tailored to each character gave the audience a fresh lens on these familiar figures, reinterpreting their motives with humour and insight. To cap off the evening, Mrs Wormwood (Madeleine Ford) emerged victorious in the audience-voted competition. She led the company in a version of ' Thriller'  for the finale. Her presence was electric, and her comic characterisation made her a deserving winner. The production team deserves immense credit for transforming the space into an immersive, villainous lair. The costumes, designed by Jackie Fredericksen, and the makeup and hair by Rosie Humphreys were outstanding. The costume creations were a visual treat, from the whimsical to the eerie, each character was dressed in a way that honoured their original persona while draping them in cobwebs. Rosie Humphreys’ makeup and hair design added the finishing touches, giving each villain an air of authenticity that made them truly come alive, particularly Beetlejuice, Mad Matter, Cruella, King George and the Sanderson sisters. Sound designers Mal Boal and Kym Brown, technical designer Jono Harrison, and lighting designer Tony Kerr further enriched the experience with eerie soundscapes, spooky lighting effects, and just the right amount of jump-scares to keep everyone on their toes. A Night with the Villains  offered audiences a rare opportunity to step into the twisted, entertaining, and oddly insightful minds of the most iconic villains. It was a feast for the eyes, ears, and funny bone—a Halloween experience that was both a treat and a thrill! This performance is likely to become a seasonal favourite among Brisbane audiences, celebrating the wicked, the witty, and the wonderfully villainous!

AI May (愛.能) , a captivating new show by Embodi Theatre, delves into themes of grief, love, and artificial intelligence. Written and directed by Amy Chien-Yu Wang, this bilingual production transcends cultural barriers and invites audiences on a heartfelt journey of loss and healing in a world where technology is rapidly evolving, but human emotions — especially grief — remain as complex as ever. Set in the not-so-distant future of Brisbane in 2035, AI May follows Mrs. Jasmine Chen as she navigates the unimaginable grief of losing her 21-year-old daughter, May Chen. The play opens with the tragic event that claims May's life, plunging Mrs. Chen into a world of solitude, uncertainty, and anguish. As she attempts to cope, she is gifted an AI robot that resembles May—'a humanoid grieving companion' designed by May's engineer boyfriend, Jeremy. As the lines between reality and AI begin to blur, we confront the ethical dilemmas posed by this evolving technology in our lives. Can a machine truly replicate human affection? Is it possible to artificially manufacture emotion? Wang's writing beautifully weaves together the personal struggles of the characters with these overarching societal themes. The five characters are richly developed, each embodying the diverse experiences within the Asian migrant community. Clarise Ooi shines in her dual role as May and AI May. As human May, she portrays a conflicted young woman torn between her mother’s traditional values and her own aspirations and desire for independence. In her portrayal as AI May, Clarise Ooi achieves an almost eerie precision in her robotic movements. The emotionless, yet oddly sweet, voice brings to mind Baymax from Big Hero 6 or Janet from The Good Place . Her presence on stage feels both familiar and unsettling—she looks like May, speaks like her, but there’s an uncanny hollowness to her that sharply contrasts with the lively human May depicted in flashbacks and recordings. Even in playful moments, like when AI May attempts to smile or slouch at Mrs. Chen's request, Clarise remains in character without fail. Her ability to seamlessly transition between the dual personas - May's defiant nature and AI May's empty artificiality - is a testament to her versatility and is a marvel to watch. Anna Yen brings an impactful performance as Mrs. Jasmine Chen, a stoic widow grappling with her remorse, her identity, and her purpose in the wake of her daughter's passing. Her sorrow is palpable through every movement—from tearing apart the death certificate to tenderly holding her daughter's possessions, to carrying her weariness in her stride. A particularly poignant moment has Mrs. Chen enveloping herself in May's bedsheet—almost suffocating herself—to symbolise both her overwhelming sorrow and the immense expectations she had imposed on her daughter. Throughout the play, Anna remains on stage, often crumpling to the floor in despair while the rest of the play (and life) continues on around her. Even amidst her grief, Mrs. Chen’s exasperation with modern technology spark moments of humour, including AI brooches that monitor your health 24/7 and frustrating interactions with virtual assistants after asking them a simple question. Justin Ryan adds complexity to the narrative as Jeremy, May's love interest and the robotics engineer who designs AI May. His motivations, at first, seem purely altruistic—wanting to help Mrs. Chen cope by providing her with a version of May she can talk to. However, as the play progresses, it becomes clear that Jeremy, too, is trapped in his own grief. His dependence on technology to "fix" problems reflects Mrs. Chen's desperate attempts to retain authority over her daughter's very existence. Meanwhile, KeZhen Yi infuses the supporting roles of Mrs. Lin and Dr. Tung with delightful energy, offering much-appreciated comic relief. Her performance as Mrs. Lin prompts deeper reflection on the importance of mental health discussions. On the other hand, Dr. Tung's arc underscores the challenges (and opportunities) that arise with technological advancements, obsolescence, and adjustment.   The writing of AI May is terrific in its ability to bounce between humour and heartache, which keeps everyone deeply captivated throughout the show. Even Mrs. Chen delivers dry humour that lands well through her blunt remarks and no-nonsense attitude, particularly in her exchanges with the automated government departments. Through a series of flashbacks, we also witness how Mrs. Chen's overbearing nature affected her relationship with May. Their story beautifully captures the tension that can exist between a mother's well-intentioned guidance and a daughter's yearning for independence. Throughout the production, we see the struggle within Mrs. Chen as she navigates her traditional upbringing while trying to understand the modern Australian world that May inhabits.   Despite some tech issues early on in the performance, the cast handled the situation with such professionalism that it never broke the atmosphere. In fact, it seemed to bring everyone closer together, with the audience rooting for the cast's smooth recovery on opening night. The real-time Mandarin and English surtitles projected on the back wall kept everyone engaged and helped bridge any language gaps. Plus, the lack of an the interval was a smart decision, as it maintained the momentum of the story. The stage design is an eye-catching fusion of futuristic elements and minimalist style. You'll see some interactive projections showcasing videos of memories connected to May, beautifully merging the physical and digital realms. Every scene flows effortlessly with carefully crafted sound and lighting changes, keeping the emotional journey of the play alive. The angled, expansive stage design allows for fluid movement for the actors. The engineer’s pod, where Jeremy creates AI May, serves as both a technological hub and a metaphor for his isolation and disconnection. Plus, the use of augmented reality (AR) glasses and voice-activated systems immerses the audience in a near-future scenario that is both plausible and darkly comedic. In our tech-driven society, AI May invites us to take a step back and appreciate the importance of human and emotional connection. It compels us to think about our own relationships and the ways in which we cope with loss. The play raises a thought-provoking question: if we could recreate the likeness of a loved one in the future, is it ethical or emotionally healthy to do so?   Running at PIP Theatre from October 17 - 27, AI May (愛.能) stands as a powerful testament to the art of storytelling, resonating deeply with anyone who has ever loved and lost. For tickets and further details, visit piptheatre.org/ai-may