Title: Secret Bridesmaids’ Business Presented By: Ipswich Little Theatre (ILT) Genre: Contemporary Comedy / Drama Synopsis: It’s the night before Meg’s wedding, and the bridal party is ready to celebrate. But when an unexpected scandal emerges, the night spirals into chaos. Secret Bridesmaids’ Business is a sharply funny and heartfelt play by Elizabeth Coleman that captures the mayhem, secrets, and strong personalities that can turn a seemingly perfect celebration into a wedding nightmare. As tensions rise and loyalties are tested, this witty, character-driven story explores the complex bonds between women—and whether marriage is really worth all the fuss after all. Audition Date: Monday, 9 June 2025 Audition Time: 7:30 pm Audition Location and Address: Ipswich Little Theatre Audition Requirements: Please complete the online audition form before attending. Prepare for a cold read or selected monologue; sides and monologues are available to download from the audition page. You do not need to be a current ILT member to audition, but successful cast members will be required to hold a current membership. Audition Registration: Complete the Audition Form Here Audition Pack: Download Sides and Monologues Available Roles: Colleen Bacon (55+) – The bride’s mother. Flustered, bossy, but always well-intentioned. Meg Bacon (33) – The bride. Smart, warm-hearted, and trying to keep it all together. Angela Dixon (34) – Matron of Honour. Loyal and giving, though occasionally a bit vague. Lucy Dean (34) – Bridesmaid. Earthy, direct, and impulsive. Naomi Bartlett (28) – A friend of the bride. Sexy, self-absorbed, and emotionally conflicted. James Davis (35) – The groom. Successful, confident, and genuinely sincere. Performance Dates: Wednesday 17 September to Saturday 4 October 2025 Matinee Performances: Sunday 21 and Sunday 28 September Performance Location: Ipswich Little Theatre, Cnr. Limestone and Elizabeth Streets, Ipswich QLD Warnings: Mature themes, adult language, relationship conflict Required Age: 18+ Creative Team: Director: Martie Blanchett Assistant Director: Shane Mallory Production Website: https://www.ilt.org.au/getinvolved/auditions/ Other Information: If you’re not cast, you're welcome to assist with backstage or front-of-house roles—just indicate your interest on the audition form.

Title: Clue On Stage Presented By: Lind Lane Theatre Genre: Comedy / Farce / Murder Mystery Synopsis: Get ready for the craziest, madcap comedy of the year! Clue On Stage, adapted by Sandy Rustin from the cult classic film and based on the iconic board game Cluedo, brings the characters, weapons, rooms and hilarity you know and love to life onstage.This fast-paced farce follows a mysterious dinner party where murder and mayhem ensue. As bodies pile up, everyone is a suspect—and everyone has something to hide. It’s a race against time to solve the mystery before the killer strikes again! Audition Dates: Monday 9th June 2025 – 6:30pm Wednesday 11th June 2025 – 6:30pm Audition Location and Address: The Lind Theatre, Nambour Audition Requirements: Please prepare a 1-minute comic monologue of your favourite character either from Cluedo or any comedy character of your choice. Audition will also include cold reads from the script. Looking for actors with strong comic timing, a love for physical comedy, and a willingness to lean into the farce and fun. Audition Contact: Director – Kathryn Barnes Phone: 0434 879 014 Email: thelind.production@gmail.com Available Roles: WADSWORTH – Traditional British butler; uptight, formal, and proper. The driving force of the play. COLONEL MUSTARD – Pompous, dense military man; full of bluster. PROFESSOR PLUM – Arrogant and self-impressed academic. MR GREEN – Timid, nervous rule-follower with awkward energy. MR BODDY – Slick, noir-style gangster type. YVETTE – French maid with a seductive air and thick (but clear) French accent. MISS SCARLET – Sardonic and secretive madam with a dry wit. MRS PEACOCK – Eccentric, high-strung senator’s wife prone to hysteria. MRS WHITE – Pale and morbid woman, possibly a serial widow. THE COOK – Gruff and threatening woman. THE MOTORIST – A stranded driver. CHIEF OF POLICE – A straightforward, helpful cop. THE UNEXPECTED COP – A bumbling, average Joe. ADDITIONAL BODIES – Various male and female ensemble roles. Rehearsal Dates: Week of 4th August onwards Rehearsal Times: To be confirmed post-casting Performance Dates: Friday 24th October 2025 – Saturday 1st November 2025 Performance Location: The Lind Theatre, Nambour Warnings: Mild language, slapstick violence, and comedic death Production Website: www.lindlane.com.au

A Tale of Small-Town Dynamics and Big Conversations On a sweltering Australia Day, I had the pleasure of seeing Mates Theatre Genesis Inc.'s production of ' The Appleton Ladies' Potato Race' , a heartwarming and insightful Aussie comedy written by Melanie Tait. Set in the fictional town of Appleton, where tradition reigns and gossip travels fast, the play offers a sharp exploration of gender equality, small-town values, and the strength of women. It's equal parts humorous and emotionally intense, laced with enough nostalgia and niche Australian references to captivate even the most reserved audience members.   The narrative centres on Penny Anderson, played with natural authenticity by Amanda Lay. After years away, Penny returns to Appleton, having built a career as a doctor. As a single, childless, and educated woman, she now feels like an outsider in her hometown. Her return causes a stir when she learns that the prize money for the town's annual potato race is five times greater for men than for women. Determined to challenge the status quo, Penny embarks on a quest for equality, igniting a campaign that faces hostility from the close-knit community rooted in long-standing traditions.   Amanda captured Penny's frustration and determination beautifully. It felt as though she wasn't even acting—just living the experience of a woman navigating the return to a place where old opinions die hard. Penny's intelligence and good intentions are frequently dismissed as arrogance, and Amanda portrayed that outsider energy perfectly; a sentiment that resonated deeply with me as a city girl who also relocated to a small town. I could easily relate to Penny in her solitude, especially when she admitted that she "sucked at sports" and was often excluded, preferring to work independently.   The ensemble cast shone in their roles, each bringing a distinct personality to the stage. Diana Gogulski delivered a compelling performance as the no-nonsense Bev Armstrong. Bev is stern, proper, and sometimes harsh, particularly toward Penny. Diana's standout moment came during a poignant monologue where Bev shares the weight of her husband's stroke, her son's struggles, and her own declining health. She expertly depicted a character whose tough exterior conceals a complex and vulnerable heart. Peta Townend as Nikki Armstrong, Penny's fierce cousin and a single mum working two jobs to raise her four sons, was a force of nature. Outspoken, tough as nails, and endlessly resilient, Peta's performance stood out in a cast full of talent. Claire Marchesi as the bubbly Barb Ling brought vibrant energy and humour reminiscent of Kath from ' Kath & Kim' . She delivered a gut-wrenching monologue about infertility, which was heartbreakingly sincere and added depth to her otherwise cheerful character.   Rhea Basha, who joined the cast late, played Rania Hamid, a refugee who brings kindness and wisdom to Appleton. Her friendly demeanour and excellent accent made her performance memorable and heartfelt. Plus, she added a crucial perspective to the play's themes of acceptance and community. Paul Hynes provided comic relief as the radio announcer and various other characters. His versatility was impressive, particularly during the news montage where he switches between different accents and personas with ease.   The script, dripping with nostalgia and witty humour, doesn't shy away from confronting uncomfortable truths about small-town life. One powerful line stayed with me: "People always notice when women try to get anything they don't have." The play doesn't sugarcoat the challenges faced by women or the darker themes of racism, sexism, homophobia, addiction, alcoholism, and financial hardship.   Yet amidst these tensions, the play remains incredibly funny, with witty one-liners like the brutally honest declaration: "80% of the time, kids suck." The show balanced humour and pathos brilliantly, with recurring jokes (like the town's seemingly endless supply of men named Billy) providing much-needed levity. The flashback scene to 1988 was a playful addition, complete with Supré-inspired 80s outfits that took us back in time   Given that this was a community production, the creative team deserves immense praise for their resourcefulness. Adelle O'Connell's direction brought out the absolute best in the cast, creating a cohesive and dynamic performance. The costumes, provided by the cast themselves, added authenticity to their characters. The set, sound, and lighting were simple yet effective, allowing the performances to take centre stage. The handmade props were a charming touch, and the involvement of volunteers behind the scenes demonstrated the heart and dedication of this theatre company.   The play wraps up beautifully, with a heartwarming resolution that ties everything together. Despite the family feuds and escalating tensions, ' The Appleton Ladies' Potato Race'  ultimately champions the power of community and change. This was my first experience with Mates Theatre Genesis Inc., and I was struck by the warmth and kindness of the company. On that hot Australia Day, they delivered a performance that was as delightful and layered as a good serving of potato bake. Thank you to the entire team for such a memorable experience.

Welcome to Falsettoland! Phoenix Ensemble has kicked off its 2025 season with a bold and brilliant pick— Falsettos —a deeply moving and wildly entertaining sung-through musical that masterfully balances humour, heartbreak, and humanity. With its demanding score, complex characters, and poignant themes, this show is no easy feat. Yet, under the direction of Hayley Gervais, the cast and creative team rise to the challenge, delivering a performance that is both powerful and profoundly personal. With a relatively small ensemble, each performer is given the space to shine and evolve. I find the intimacy of Phoenix Ensemble’s theatre always enhances the experience, drawing the audience in and making us feel more connected to the story as it unfolds. If you've never seen Falsettos  before (like me), be warned—there is no spoken dialogue. This is a fully sung-through show, and the music is intricate, fast-paced, and Sondheim-esque in its lyrical complexity and demanding harmonies. Music director Emma Erdis guides the cast through these vocal acrobatics with remarkable precision. The layered vocals in the early number "Love is Blind"  are particularly stunning, demonstrating not only the cast’s technical skill but also their ability to blend as an ensemble. The band, led by Erdis, is impeccable, with a special shoutout to Sally Faint, who impressively juggles at least four different instruments throughout the show.   Falsettos  tells the story of Marvin, a man who leaves his wife, Trina, to be with his lover, Whizzer, while struggling to maintain a sense of family for their son, Jason. As Trina finds love with Marvin's psychiatrist, Mendel (talk about a plot twist), and Jason prepares for his bar mitzvah, their unconventional family dynamic is tested in unexpected ways. Set in the late 1970s and early 1980s, the show takes a serious detour turn as Whizzer falls ill, forcing everyone to confront the heavy themes of love, loss, and the fragility of life. Both deeply personal and universally resonant, ' Falsettos'  is a heart-wrenching yet uplifting exploration of love, identity, and what it truly means to be a family, whether you're born with them or choose them.   From the very first number, Falsettos  makes it clear that this isn’t your typical musical. " Four Jews in a Room Bitching"  immediately sets the tone with its sharp wit and brazen humour. Young Jason (Fraser Goodreid) joining in on the number only heightens the comedy, perfectly encapsulating one of the show’s central tensions—childhood innocence clashing with the messiness of adulthood. Another notable number is Mendel's rapid-fire interrogation in the " Three-Part Mini Opera ." This number demands the audience's full attention to keep up with the nonstop stream of questions. Additionally, the trio number " Everyone Tells Jason to See a Psychiatrist " stands out, humorously capturing Jason's plight as he's caught in a tug-of-war of expectations from the adults surrounding him.   At the centre of Falsettos  is Marvin, played with remarkable depth by Luke O’Hagan. Marvin is a man caught in his own contradictions—selfish yet loving, domineering yet insecure, desperate to maintain control over a family that is rapidly slipping away. O’Hagan nails this complex cocktail of traits with nuance, you’ll find yourself both shaking your fist at him and nodding in sympathy. His on-stage chemistry with Joshua Brandon’s Whizzer is compelling, perfectly embodying the push-and-pull of their tumultuous relationship.   Brandon’s Whizzer is effortlessly charismatic, exuding confidence and charm, yet beneath his bravado lies a quiet vulnerability. The contrast between the two men is striking—Whizzer, self-assured and free-spirited, versus Marvin, rigid and still struggling to figure out who he is. Their dynamic feels intentionally unbalanced, their friction palpable, making the moments of tenderness between them all the more impactful. Together, O’Hagan and Brandon create a relationship that feels raw, real, and ultimately heartbreaking.   Genevieve Tree as Trina is a revelation. She delivers " I’m Breaking Down "—a comedic tour de force—with astonishing vocal control. The number is an unhinged, wildly entertaining descent into Trina’s spiralling thoughts as she desperately tries to hold herself together while baking. Her manic energy and animated delivery make this number a standout moment in the show. Yet, beneath the hilarity lies genuine heartbreak. Tree masterfully balances the absurdity of the moment with the devastation of a woman grappling with the collapse of the life she built and the foolishness she feels. Later, her vulnerability in " Trina’s Song" is deeply moving, showcasing her remarkable range as both a singer and an actor. Her vocals never falter, no matter the demands of the score, and her physicality and comedic instincts make her an undeniable scene-stealer. With every note and expression, she stamps her place as one of the evening’s most memorable acts. The infamous "March of the Falsettos"  feels like a fever dream—aptly so, as it’s essentially Trina’s surreal imagination, performed with impressive skill as the men’s falsetto voices must blend with Jason’s unbroken tone. As Act One builds to its climax, " Making a Home"  provides a beautifully tender moment between Trina and Mendel, while Marvin and Whizzer’s relationship begins to unravel in " The Chess Game"  and Whizzer’s introspective solo, " The Games I Play."   Alex Smith is endearing as Mendel, bringing warmth, cringy charm, and easy comedy to the role. His therapist-turned-stepfather arc with Jason is a particular highlight, with their therapy sessions playing out as rapid sparring matches where Jason seems to out-psychoanalyse the therapist. Smith balances Mendel’s neuroses with sincerity, encapsulating the quiet hope of a man eager to build something stable amid the chaos. Fraser Goodreid excels as Jason, embodying the dry wit and exasperation of an only child caught in the crossfire of his parents’ drama. His delivery of " My Father’s a Homo"  is priceless, and he holds his own vocally alongside the adult cast with impressive confidence. He brings an authenticity to Jason’s journey, making him more than just the wisecracking kid—he’s the reluctant anchor holding this family circus together. The first act crescendos with the gut-wrenching " I Never Wanted to Love You",  where the cast’s harmonies soar with raw emotion, each voice carrying the weight of heartbreak and frustration. It’s a breathtakingly painful moment, immediately followed by " Father to Son" —a gentle and deeply affecting scene where Marvin, stripped down to his most vulnerable state, reaches out to Jason in a rare moment of tenderness. This number lingers, leaving the audience with a sense of both resolution and uncertainty as the curtain falls on Act One. In Act Two, Rae Rose as Charlotte and Michael Enright as Cordelia bring a cozy blanket of warmth, a sprinkle of humour, and big ol' heart to the show. Their presence adds a much-needed sense of community and support as the story takes a more sombre turn. Rose’s straightforward and compassionate Charlotte complements Enright’s endlessly loveable Cordelia, whose efforts to bring levity amid tragedy enhance the impact of their scenes. Together, they anchor the story in themes of love, friendship, and resilience.   Though Falsettos  is technically two musicals fused into one, Act Two undeniably feels stronger. The " Year of the Child" establishes Jason’s Bar Mitzvah preparations as a thread that ties the family together, but it’s Whizzer’s declining health that casts a shadow over everything, shifting the show from playful dysfunction to profound poignancy. Though the show is long, the pacing never falters—each song is swift, purposeful, and propels the story forward with precision. " A Day in Falsettoland" and "The Baseball Game" are well-staged, intertwining the various relationships into a lively musical tapestry. "The Fight" provides insight from Jason’s perspective as he witnesses his parents argue once more. And Mendel’s character arc takes an intriguing turn as he appears weary and bitter, yet still strives to comfort Jason during " Everyone Hates His Parents" , a surprisingly upbeat song enhanced by an entertaining dance routine by choreographer Jackson Poole.   The shift in tone begins when neighbour, Dr. Charlotte, starts to sense that something ominous is unfolding within the gay community. Rae Rose performs "Something Bad is Happening" with outstanding vocals, capturing the growing fear of an unknown disease and the looming dread that becomes tragically real when Whizzer gets hit with the diagnosis. From this point forward, the performances grow even more emotionally charged. The cast does a phenomenal job depicting the weight of this crisis—Whizzer appears physically frail yet holds onto a quiet strength, while Marvin, Charlotte, and Cordelia rally around him in " Unlikely Lovers" , a beautifully harmonised piece that is further enhanced by the gorgeous flute and clarinet accompaniment. Joshua Brandon offers an beautiful performance in " You Gotta Die Sometime ", leading the audience through Whizzer’s emotional journey from denial to acceptance. Luke O'Hagan brings the show to a close with " What Would I Do ", projecting such power that his microphone is unnecessary. The finale is profoundly moving, with the entire cast digging deep to deliver a powerful ending, despite their evident exhaustion.   The 70s aesthetic is well-realised, from the clothing and hairstyles to the magazines featured. It’s a time capsule that not only grounds the story’s historical context but also enhances the realism of the characters. The lighting, designed by Tammy Sarah Linde, is a stunning spectrum of colour—naturally, every hue of the rainbow makes an appearance. Linde’s design bathes the stage in a constantly shifting colour palette, mirroring the emotional tides throughout the musical. Staging is dynamic and purposeful, with director Hayley Gervais ensuring that every inch of the space is utilised to its full potential.   The set design is simple and striking, with two oversized chess pieces flanking the stage—a nod to the recurring chess motif. The stage floor, checkered in an askew pattern, symbolises the imperfect relationships that unfold. The pastel-coloured chessboard designs along the walls further enhance the retro vibe, fully immersing us in the era. The movable cubes create a versatile playground for the actors, allowing them to navigate the ever-shifting characters' lives.   Phoenix Ensemble’s Falsettos  is a triumph—a beautifully performed, deeply affecting production. The show’s complexity demands a strong cast, and this ensemble more than rises to the challenge. With stellar vocals and musicians, sharp character work, and an intimate setting that makes every moment feel personal, all these elements come together to serve the show’s central theme: life is a game of strategy, and love doesn’t always follow the rules. Tickets available here

This Nash Theatre production revives the legendary Gunsmoke  radio play, which first hit the airwaves in 1952. Rather than modernising it, they fully embrace its old-timey charm, presenting three 30-minute episodes. Directed by Eddie Bruce, the production pays homage to the golden age of radio plays, where storytelling relied entirely on voice acting and sound effects. For those unfamiliar, Gunsmoke  follows Marshal Matt Dillon as he strives to maintain law and order in 1870s Dodge City, Kansas. His loyal right-hand man, Chester, helps keep the peace, while Miss Kitty provides a romantic subplot. This production features three distinct episodes— Start of a Legend , Bloody Hands , and Chester’s Dilemma —each showcasing different aspects of the Western drama, from thrilling action, moral dilemmas, and comedic exchanges. The story later made the leap to television, and my father recalls watching the series as a child. It’s fascinating to see how a tale that first captivated audiences over seventy years ago still holds its charm today.   Radio plays offer a unique theatrical experience. Unlike traditional theatre, where actors can rely on facial expressions and physical movement, here, everything hinges on vocal performance. There’s no room for mumbling, stumbling, or merely reciting lines—each actor must fully embody their character, making every word feel new and alive. The entire cast excelled at this, with many juggling multiple roles, seamlessly transporting us to the Wild West through strong country accents and dynamic vocal performances.   Marshal Matt Dillon, played by Stuart Loudon, is commanding and authoritative, spending nearly the entire show on his feet delivering his lines. His steadfast presence anchors each episode. At his side, Tyson Hargreaves is outstanding as Chester—his accent feels natural, his delivery effortless, and his comedic timing strong. He even looks the part, strangely enough! The chemistry between Matt and Chester is one of the show’s highlights, their dynamic feeling both lived-in and true.   David Hill deliver a witty performance as both Doc Adams and the Announcer, with well-timed comedic moments. Julia Cox is sweet and naïve as Mrs Bonney in Start of Legend , but I much prefer her as the bold and sassy Miss Kitty later on. Sam Herde is excellent as Francine and even stronger as Edna in Episode 3, where she delivers a charming, manipulative, and flirtatious performance with a wonderful Ohio twang.   There isn’t a weak link in this cast. Brian Bodell’s gravelly voice as Stanger carries the perfect undertone of suspicion and menace, while his portrayal of Charlie, the gruff old mail carrier, is just as memorable. Ian Bielenberg makes a strong impression in his brief scenes as Adam, Brand, and Jonas, bringing distinct energy to each role. Bruce Edgerton’s delightfully over-the-top Ziegler, complete with his exaggerated Dutch accent, adds an extra layer of humour and character.   But the real scene-stealers? The foley artists. Aiden Carey, who also features in Episode 1, showcases incredible versatility. His comedic timing and knack for sound effects make me hopeful that he'll take on more foley work in the future. Overseen by Mark Corben, the foley work does an excellent job as auditory illusion—coconuts for horses, chains for spurs, even scratching on rock to mimic quill writing. Close your eyes, and you’re transported to the Wild West—minus the ridiculous dry heat. Rob Brook’s technical FX design ensures no detail is overlooked, from the sound of a horse dismounting to crickets at dusk. Aiden and Mark were an absolute highlight, often stealing scenes with their exaggerated reactions to key moments—completely unseen by the radio actors, of course—which only made it all the more amusing for the audience.   Bloody Hands brings a more serious tone, reminiscent of the brutal reality of the Wild West—a time when killings were all too common (think A Million Ways to Die in the West , but without the satire). But my favourite of the three is Episode 3, Chester’s Dilemma . It’s the funniest of the lot and stars two of the production’s standouts: Tyson Hagreaves and Sam Herde. Their rapid-fire back-and-forth exchanges never misses a beat, despite never looking at each other behind the microphones. The entire cast has clearly rehearsed to perfection. As a clever touch, the production incorporates period-accurate advertisements from L&M Cigarettes. These add an amusing layer of authenticity, especially when Bruce Edgerton exaggeratedly wheezes and coughs during the ad—a not-so-subtle reminder that Nash Theatre is not endorsing smoking!   One of the biggest challenges in a radio play is engaging the audience without visual cues, yet Gunsmoke  kept me fully engaged. The commitment to authenticity extended beyond the performances. The radio microphones and horse saddles, wanted-style posters, the cast program, and even the atmosphere of the venue built in the 1970s—Merthyr Road Uniting Church—contributed to the experience. While I don’t personally recall the golden era of radio, my 67-year-old mother, who I brought along, does. She tells me it feels like stepping back in time, a nostalgic trip to a format that once dominated entertainment.   At a comfortable length with an interval to break things up, the production strikes the perfect balance of suspense and entertainment. It’s a wonderful slice of theatrical history, executed with skilled storytelling, excellent sound design and a whole lot of heart. Seeing it before the recent cyclone business was a stroke of luck, but for those considering going— tickets are still available here ! I highly recommend grabbing a show before this slice of theatre rides off into the sunset!

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.