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Elvis Presley may have left the building decades ago, but he was alive and well at Phoenix Ensemble’s All Shook Up , a jukebox musical inspired by Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night . This musical drops us in a small midwestern town stifled by its conservative mayor, until the arrival of Chad… a leather-jacketed, motorcycle-riding roustabout who shakes things up with his blue suede shoes, a guitar, and a wake-up call of rock’n’roll rebellion. Cue love triangles (and squares and hexagons), mistaken identities, and belting out the King's greatest hits at every opportunity. From the very first number, ' Jailhouse Rock' , the cast burst onto the stage with such energy that it literally brought the show to a stop. A mid-scene technical hiccup forced a pause, but the ensemble handled it with such professionalism it barely felt like a disruption. And honestly? It gave the cast a chance to catch their breath before diving back in to the vigorous choreography.   Dugald Lowis embodied Chad with irresistible swagger and charm. Rather than leaning on an Elvis impersonation, Dugald created their own comic groove, complete with a perfect “oblivious dumb guy” voice that landed every laugh. Chad is a role that demands confidence above all else, and Dugald radiated it from the moment they stepped on stage. Matching them beat for beat was Anna Ryan as Natalie, the grease-stained mechanic who disguises herself as Ed to get closer to Chad. Her wide-eyed, love-at-first-sight ' One Night With You'  was adorable, her transformation in ' Love Me Tender' (complete with key changes lowered into “man mode”) was brilliant, and her ' A Little Less Conversation'  was the kind of number that would definitely leave the audience sexually confused. Her big solo ' Fools Fall in Love'  confirmed her as a vocal standout, while her comic instincts shone in some of the funniest background business of the night. Sorry to the director sitting in front of me, because I could NOT stop cackling at Anna’s facial expressions as Ed!   The supporting cast added layer upon layer of humour and heart. Genevieve Tree as Sylvia was my spirit animal: the perpetually single gal who masked her vulnerability with sharp sarcasm. Gen combined the "crazy mum" comedy with her soaring, soulful voice in the ballad ' There’s Always Me' ; a breathtaking highlight that showed off her endless ability to sustain. Grace Clarke’s Miss Sandra looked as though she had stepped straight out of a portal to the 1950s, nailing ' Hound Dog'  with diva-like glamour. Hannah Paul captured the wide-eyed innocence of sixteen-year-old Lorraine beautifully. Her powerhouse vocals and cute chemistry with Joshua Bird’s sweet-voiced Dean made their duet ' That’s All Right'  sparkle. Toby Redwood’s Dennis was the goofy but loveable sidekick, while Caleb Holman was endearing as Jim, Natalie’s widowed and awkward father whose cluelessness made him instantly likeable. Constanza Acevedo Burckhardt was hilarity personified as Mayor Matilda. Tiny but mighty, Connie stormed the stage in a gospel-flavoured ' Devil in Disguise' , declaring that “evil is always attractive” and Chad proving it with a wicked grin. She paired brilliantly with Clayton Eltis as Sheriff Earl, whose silent, all-face acting proved that sometimes no lines at all can be the funniest moments. The ensemble worked tirelessly to keep the show buzzing with stamina, energy and personality. Michael Enright and Kelsey Todd’s expressive faces made them impossible not to watch, while Jackson Poole, Mikey Searle, and Hannah Paul brought extra punch to Jamie O’Donoghue’s high-energy choreography, particularly in ' C’mon Everybody' . A reminder to the dancers to keep your eyes up rather than down, because your joy is best shared with the audience, not the floor...   Being a jukebox musical, the songs really are the driving force, and music director Rae Rose’s work was fantastic. ' Heartbreak Hotel' had spine-tingling group vocals, while ' Can’t Help Falling in Love'  unfolded into a gorgeous patchwork of unrequited love. But the crowning moment came with ' If I Can Dream' , staged with the cast lined up in rainbow-colour; a beautiful visual statement of their unity. Jamie O’Donoghue’s choreography hit just the right mix of nostalgic 50s/60s dance and theatricality. ' Blue Suede Shoes'  was a crowd favourite with sharp ensemble moves (and props to the costume team for those endless pairs of blue shoes!).   Design and direction tied it all together. Ruby Thompson's direction kept the pace snappy, balancing the over-dramatics of instant love with the sincere connections. The show was brimming with delightful surprises, like the cleverly staged bus prop and bike chase during ' It’s Now or Never' . Ruby's eye for detail also made the background tableaus a comedy treasure trove, rewarding anyone who looked beyond the main action. Ruby's diner set, with pastel walls, a jukebox, and a black-and-white checkered floor, was pure retro charm. Lachlan Hall’s colourful quick-change costumes and fabulous hairdos sealed the aesthetic, with a wink of cheeky modernity through the Converse sneakers. Maddy Bosando’s lighting and Luke O’Hagan’s sound added a final layer of polish, particularly in constantly-appearing song 'One Night With You'.   This was the kind of production that reminded me why community theatre is so special: true joy created on stage, and joy mirrored right back from the audience. The satire of Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night  (or She's the Man anyone?) gleefully winked through as lovers tumbled in and out of infatuation at lightning speed and disguises fooled everyone but the audience. By the time the company launched into the finale, ' Burning Love' , the theatre was buzzing with laughter and applause. Yes, the plot was Shakespearean nonsense dressed in blue suede, but that was exactly the point. Phoenix Ensemble’s All Shook Up  leaned into its own absurdity with open arms, delivering heart, humour, and some of the most-beloved songs in history, proving that Elvis really did have a song for every scenario life can throw at you. Photography: By Brit Creative, Creative Street, Stageshots

Presented by Queensland Shakespeare Ensemble (QSE) and PIP Theatre Director:  Angus Thorburn (Assistant Director Rebecca Murphy)   Shakespeare’s 440-year-old comedy still sparkles as fresh and funny as ever, transporting us into an enchanted forest where lovers bicker, fairies scheme, and a troupe of well-meaning players stage the most hilariously dreadful play-within-a-play. Director Angus Thorburn promised a “beautiful mess,” and that was exactly what unfolded on the PIP Theatre stage.   Josh Murphy’s set of simple green draping and branch structures gave the stage an immediate woodland charm, conjuring the forest with naturalistic ease. I couldn’t help but imagine how a sprinkling of fairy lights would have elevated the magic even further. Harmony Barath’s layered fabrics lent the Athenians, Lovers, and Mechanicals an earthy timelessness, while the fairies shimmered in elaborate costumes and masks, their strangeness heightened by almost insect-like physicality.   Emily Croft’s Puck glowed under striking makeup that gave the trickster a mischievous glow and Claire Pearson’s Titania caught the eye as she glided across the stage crowned in flowers and shimmering fabrics, every inch the regal queen. Lighting by Ziggy Enoch interlaced enchantment throughout, with the lullaby sequence in particular glowing with haunting atmosphere. And while I longed for a touch more glitter — on faces, costumes, even the magic flower — I appreciated the practical choice, knowing the cast were doubling roles and quick-changing. Music played a vital role in this production. With original compositions by Liliana Macarone and Rob Pensalfini, the show included moments of cast singing and even playful choreography. These interludes deepened the fairy magic and gave the ensemble opportunities to shine as a collective. I did wonder if we needed the lullaby sung in full twice, but it was beautifully performed. The cast embraced Shakespeare’s chaos wholeheartedly, throwing themselves into comedy, mischief and heartfelt moments. Mikala Crawley made a wonderfully dramatic Helena, leaning into her desperation with both gusto and humour. Her heartfelt conviction that she was being cruelly mocked drew a real pang of sympathy amid the laughter. Leah Mustard’s Hermia was a fiery pocket rocket, sparking with energy and chemistry opposite Meg Bennett’s Lysandra, whose playful, queer-coded partnership with Hermia added freshness to the familiar text. Their quarrels with Eamon Langton’s Demetrius became deliciously childish playground fights, full of flailing limbs and petty insults.   Dom Tennison stood out across multiple roles (Egeus, Snug, and Mustardseed), commanding the stage with presence in parts that often fade into the background. Rob Pensalfini stole scene after scene as Bottom, buzzing with the irrepressible chaos of what I can only describe as 'the original ADHD character.' His Jack Black–style energy was unpredictable, quirky, and uproarious, particularly once transformed into a donkey with a broad Aussie accent.   Liliana Macarone brought grounded leadership to Quince, delighting the audience with an unexpected turn on guitar as a one-woman band. James Enwright shone as Flute, especially in his dainty, wigged performance as Thisbe. His gloriously sincere “bad acting” paired perfectly with Pensalfini’s overblown Pyramus, their tragic finale a masterclass in comedy.   Emily Croft bounded through the play as a hyper, gleefully mischievous Puck, her presence always eye-catching and playful. Rebecca Murphy highly impressed me in the dual roles of sly, manipulative Oberon and the smaller but memorable Starveling. Claire Pearson’s Titania radiated regality, every inch the haughty fairy queen. Rounding out the ensemble were Jason Nash as a sharp-eyed Theseus and playful Peaseblossom, and Paris Lindner as Hippolyta and Moth, both strong in their dual roles.   The show brimmed with moments to remember. The lovers’ squabbles, full of petulance, never failed to raise a laugh. Helena’s monologue, convinced of cruel trickery, offered rare vulnerability amidst the chaos. I adored the petty side-business that constantly bubbled at the edges of the stage: sharp glances, silent gestures, and background mischief rewarding every watchful eye. “What fools these mortals be” landed with delicious bite, while the running gag of the heavy sleepers oblivious to the forest’s mayhem never failed to amuse me.   The play-within-a-play was the jewel in the crown. Pensalfini’s melodramatic death, Enwright’s wobbly Thisbe, and Macarone’s interruptions as Quince created the perfect storm. It felt like I was truly watching a gloriously awful amateur production. Jason Nash as Theseus gave harsh yet enthralled critique of their play; conjuring the knowing eye of a director who knows he could have done better, yet secretly relishes every second of the disaster before him.   QSE’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream  captured both the beauty and the ridiculousness of Shakespeare’s world. The ensemble used every inch of the space with commitment, their verse delivered with clarity and ease, never once faltering. The audience was full and audibly responsive throughout, laughing, gasping, and relishing the madness of love and live theatre.   This was only my second time seeing this play, and the novelty certainly has not worn off. With magic, music, pettiness, and a cast unafraid to embrace both frivolity and poetry, this was a joyful trip through the forest.   Photography by Benjamin Prindable

Presented by: The Really Useful Group & QPAC Venue: Lyric Theatre, QPAC It wasn’t every day I walk into an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical that I have never really vibed with and walked out feeling like I’d just been baptised by rock and roll and thrown into a holy fever dream. Jesus Christ Superstar , the iconic 1970 rock opera by Webber and Tim Rice, tells the story of the final days of Jesus through a modern lens. It is a high-octane blend of biblical narrative, political unrest, and soaring electric guitars. I know the score like the back of my hand (thanks to my mum’s vinyl collection), but this brand-new, Olivier Award–winning production wasn’t just a revival… it was a reinvention. To my surprise (and mild annoyance), I was absolutely blown away. Let’s get one thing straight: this version of Superstar  was more concert than traditional theatre. If you’d gone in expecting sweeping emotional arcs or classical storytelling, you may have been left a little bewildered. This was a stripped-back, stylised, visually minimalist staging that favoured raw vocals, rhythmic energy, and striking imagery. It was a warehouse rave in ancient Judea: gritty, pulsing, and unafraid. This production was reimagined by London’s Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre where it originated and was helmed by director Timothy Sheader and choreographer Drew McOnie. Completing the creative team was design by Tom Scutt, lighting design by Lee Curran, sound design by Nick Lidster and music supervision by Tom Deering. The Australian creative team comprised Associate Director Shaun Rennie, Musical Director Laura Tipoki, Resident Choreographer Bree Tipoki, Associate Lighting Designer Gavan Swift and Associate Sound Designer Michael Waters. The set, a towering multi-level structure, loomed over the stage, housing the onstage rock band. A crucifix structure stretched out to dominate stage left, meaning most of the main action unfolded stage right. And the sound was LOUD. So loud, in fact, that lyrics were occasionally swallowed up by the sheer wall of sound, especially during complex ensemble numbers. When diction got murky or vocal melismas dominated, it was tricky to catch some emotional nuances if you weren’t already well-acquainted with the score. This production also used handheld microphones throughout, a fantastic choice that leaned into the concert aesthetic and ensured the lead vocals were amplified in the best possible way. The choreography was precise, stylised, and hypnotic (especially the group formations when viewed from the balcony seating). At times, though, it felt more like watching an impressive music video than a piece of musical theatre. The ensemble stormed in from the audience itself: hoodie-cloaked apostles bursting through the aisles with parkour energy for " What’s the Buzz".  Their movement was intense, strange, and oddly mesmerising. The more you surrendered to the choreography, the more it pulled you in. That said, the scale and constant busyness of the ensemble occasionally pulled attention away from key emotional beats, particularly those involving Jesus (like the forty lashes scene). This production lived and breathed through its vocals... and the cast delivered. Javon King as Judas was an unstoppable force, bringing grit and soul to every second he was onstage. His vocals were out-of-this-world, and his emotional volatility made him utterly magnetic. Michael Paynter as Jesus was all range and rockstar presence, commanding the infamous falsetto sections with control and force. He opened " Gethsemane"  playing his own acoustic guitar in a spotlit, soul-baring moment that grew into an arena-worthy concert à la Steven Tyler. He was a rock god with a halo, nailing those sky-high notes like he had a direct line to the heavens. Mahalia Barnes was sublime as Mary Magdalene, her velvety voice wrapping around " Everything’s Alright"  with tenderness. Her powerful voice honestly felt like Adele had wandered into Jerusalem. She was flanked by incredible soul singers Danielle Matthews, Calista Nelmes, and Stellar Perry, whose blended harmonies and pure vocal tone elevated every group number. " I Don’t Know How to Love Him"  was a moment of confessional peace in an otherwise pounding score, and " Could We Start Again Please"  (with Tana Laga’aia as Peter) became one of the production’s best (and few) genuinely tender scenes. Reuben Kaye stole every millisecond of his stage time as King Herod, embracing full chaos in his unhinged, outrageous, deliciously bizarre number. His Herod was serving Mugatu-from- Zoolander  as he milked every moment of his 15 minutes of fame. It was as if Rocky Horror  met Moulin Rouge  and decided to crash this biblical rock opera with a cabaret villain twist. While some may have found it tonally jarring, it was undeniably one of the most memorable scenes of the night. Peter Murphy’s Pilate was another standout. His voice had that classic rock grit and gorgeous adaptability across scenes. His " Pilate’s Dream",  complete with self-accompanied guitar, was a gentle, eerie moment of introspection amidst the storm. Meanwhile, Elliot Baker as Caiaphas and John O’Hara as Annas delivered otherworldly vocals in " This Jesus Must Die" ... those low notes were unreal! Other highlights included Graeme Isaako’s electric " Simon Zealotes",  which was a personal favourite, and the intense, primal choreography of " Damned for All Time",  paired with Judas’ emotional collapse. The lighting design was just as much a character as any of the performers. From the balcony, the almost reflective floor amplified the colours, turning group movement into living artwork. The blocking was swift and dynamic — the only figure to float slowly and almost divinely through the chaos was, appropriately, Jesus. Now… a little real talk. The one thing that detracted from this otherwise stellar production wasn’t the show... it was the audience. Or rather, the lack of theatre etiquette. A full row behind me seemed to think they were at a pub, loudly talking even during the crucifixion scene. Despite several shushing attempts from our row, the ushers never stepped in. It was disheartening, and unfortunately, it’s becoming a trend at QPAC. When audiences spend that much on a performance, they deserve the chance to experience it without distractions. I'm all for enjoying yourself, but please Brisbane, respect the art, the performers, and your fellow audience members. Now back to the finale! The title number was everything you’d want it to be — a rock anthem explosion, with Judas backed by powerhouse soul singers in a number that felt seconds away from a mosh pit. The crucifixion that followed was staged with haunting reverence: sparse but beautiful. I just wished I could have fully immersed without distraction. This production of Jesus Christ Superstar  wasn’t traditional (and that was the point). It was stylised, concert-like, and unapologetically contemporary. It didn’t always prioritise clarity or emotional connection, but it delivered a full-throttle theatrical experience unlike anything else. Whether you were a lifelong fan or, like me, on the fence.... this production might just have converted you. Hallelujah! Photography By Brit Creative

Presented at Queensland Multicultural Centre Performed by the graduating class of Queensland Conservatorium 2025, with additional students swelling the ensemble, Welcome to Thebes  was a bold, gutsy, and timely reimagining of the Greek tale. In this version, Thebes has emerged from civil war and is taking its first fragile steps into democracy under newly appointed President Eurydice. When she invites Theseus of Athens to provide aid, their uneasy diplomacy spirals into a gripping clash of politics, ego, misogyny, and the brutal cost of power. From the first glance at Claira Ruthenberg’s set, a chaotic sprawl of dishevelled fabrics and disarray accompanied by the noise of helicopters, it was clear we were placed in a world scarred by war. Costumes blurred eras, with gleaming gold jewellery and the occasional toga paired with contemporary military uniforms and sharp business wear. Keith Clark’s lighting and projections bathed it all in an unsettling haze. Time felt fluid here: gods and cell phones, togas and guns, ancient warcraft and modern bureaucracy all colliding in a world that was both mythic and eerily familiar. The cast rose brilliantly to the challenge of this sprawling story, with the script giving generous space for each performer to shine. At its centre was Angela Lal as Eurydice. Her performance was outstanding: a leader both dignified and fearful, balancing the demands of diplomacy with the weight of personal loss, all underpinned by a steely will. Her restraint, followed by the raw emotional release of her Act Two monologue, left the room completely hushed. As she described the war’s devastation on her family, it felt as though her piercing words were drawn straight from a mother’s soul. Opposite her, Matthew Ianna’s Theseus was the embodiment of smug entitlement, a condescending superpower leader who offered aid with one hand while twisting the arm with the other. His character summed up by his own statement: “one fist is for force and one for peace”, was a fascinating arc into vulnerability and understanding. His Act One debate with Eurydice crackled with tension, as he dismissed her and her nation’s plight with bored contempt. Women in the audience audibly groaned at his arrogance; a perfectly delivered mansplaining masterclass. Later, his full-blown tantrum was comedy gold, a petulant ruler crashing against a stateswoman who refused to yield. On the other side of the political spectrum, Riley Fahey’s Prince Tydeus was terrifying in his charisma: a former warlord and current opposition leader dripping with misogyny and violence, who relished in the power of being feared. His partnership with Cecilia Varese’s Pargeia (the Barbie/Melania to his Ken/Trump) was sinister and magnetic. Varese nailed the duality of smiling diplomat on camera and razor-edged manipulator in private; a deliciously duplicitous performance throughout. Jordana Wenke’s Antigone was tortured heartbreak in motion, caught between grief for her brother and horror at his crimes, while Ari Banerjee’s Ismene sparred with her in a spirited sibling debate that gave space to both tenderness and fire. Together, Antigone, Ismene, and Eurydice found a kind of sisterhood — comforting, arguing, listening — that felt like true girlhood in extremity. Emma Kidd’s opening monologue as the armed woman was another gut-punch, reminding us with raw conviction that: “Women gave us peace.” Rushad Katrak as Scud, the child soldier, drove home the horror of war when he erupted into gunfire mid-diplomatic meeting; a sequence staged with jarring intensity, flour exploding as “blood” in a brilliantly visceral touch. Another deeply affecting moment came from the mechanic character, who relayed the death of his son at Tydeus’ hands with such detail that it etched itself painfully into my imagination. There were also flashes of humour amidst the brutality: Grace Faint as the deadpan secretary Thylthibia was a perfect foil to the chaos, and Liam McMahon’s Tiresias went gloriously over-the-top as the dramatic seer. But it was the themes that resonated most: the fragility of democracy, the cycles of authoritarianism, the exploitation of post-war nations by so-called allies, and the human cost of political games. The lines that seemed to echo straight into today’s headlines gave the play its lasting bite: “Are your wars more advanced because you don’t hear the screams?” “It can happen anywhere there is tyranny. Are you scared?” “The best of us keep quiet. Those who shout the loudest always win.” Each landed like a warning bell. The final image of refugees walking towards Athens, uncertain whether they would meet open gates or be turned away — was haunting in its relevance. Welcome to Thebes  was not just a retelling of an ancient downfall; it was a mirror held up to our own world, exposing fragile democracies and the dangerous spaces where tyrants thrive. This play was a terrific choice to showcase both individual talent and a cohesive piece of group theatre. The director, Timothy Wynn , ensured this sprawling ensemble had room to shine, delivering a production that was urgent, intelligent, and emotionally charged. With its heady mix of myth and modernity, this was an ambitious and fiery finale for the Conservatorium’s graduating class; proof that student theatre can tackle difficult political material with nuance and artistry. Warnings: Violence, sexual assault, suicide, grief, gun use, death.

L.A. Dance Project | Benjamin Millepied Presented by Brisbane Festival, Tourism and Events Queensland, and Brisbane Economic Development Agency, in association with QPAC 4 – 7 September, Playhouse Theatre   Before we even set foot inside QPAC, Brisbane Festival had us moving to the beat. A welcome procession: drumline pounding, trumpeters gleaming, performers in hot-pink bejewelled costumes, marched the crowd across the Neville Bonner bridge from Queen’s Wharf into the theatre. It was theatrical pageantry at its best, setting the stage for what was to come: Gems , Benjamin Millepied’s contemporary ballet trilogy, performed in full for the first time anywhere in the world.   Gems  reimagines George Balanchine’s legendary 1967 Jewels  for a new era, drawing on the same inspiration of Van Cleef & Arpels’ history of dance partnerships, but speaking in Millepied’s distinctly modern vocabulary. Each chapter: Reflections (Rubies), Hearts & Arrows  (Diamonds), and On the Other Side  (Emeralds), was a different jewel cut, a new way of refracting light through bodies, music, and visual art.   Now, let me be clear: I’m no dance scholar and I don’t pretend to understand every avant-garde choreographic choice. What I can tell you is how it felt .   Act One: Reflections On a painted red-and-white floor, Barbara Kruger’s word art looming behind: first “Stay,” later dropping to “Go.” Pianist Tony Bai wrestled with David Lang’s minimalist score, music so fractured it honestly sounded like my cat walking across my piano, and somehow the dancers matched every offbeat step. The choreography switched from quick, jagged movements of Courtney Conovan and Clay Koonar to the more lyrical connections of Daphne Fernberger and Noah Wang, their gaze locked as if tethered by invisible thread. How Millepied even managed to choreograph to this score I’ll never understand, but the result was endlessly inventive. You will never guess their next move, and that was the case with both the movement and the music in Act 1.   Shu Kinouchi bounded around the stage in a solo that was equal parts rabbit-like joy and sheer stamina. At one point Shu and Noah slid into a floorwork sequence performed in complete silence… deliberately awkward to witness, but riveting. The costumes of grey with flashes of red trim, loose fabric, hair undone, were striking against the bold backdrop. In contemporary ballet, I’ve learned to expect the unexpected, and Reflections  absolutely delivered that.   Act Two: Hearts & Arrows The curtain rose on exposed light rigs and a new sense of urgency. From the first note, Hope Spears and Clay Koonar led with fierce precision, joined by the rest of the ensemble in relentless, kinetic streams of movement. This act was accompanied live by Camerata performing Philip Glass’s propulsive string quartet right in front of us. Their sound was so immediate it felt like a second set of dancers.   Audrey Sides’ central number stood out, her falls and recoveries framed beautifully by the shifting lights and the ensemble physically supporting each other back to standing. Meanwhile, Tom Guilbaud and Robert Hoffer seemed to defy gravity, their jumps reaching dizzying heights. The choreography was so quick, so relentless, that I felt I had to glue my eyes open for fear of missing a single detail (as Aerosmith would say, “I don’t wanna miss a thing”).   At one point the wings and back wall lifted to reveal the bare bones of the Playhouse Theatre itself. It felt strangely voyeuristic, like peeking behind the jewel’s polished surface. The interplay of light and shadow was exquisite, dancers vanishing and re-emerging as though refracted beams within the diamond itself.   Act Three: On the Other Side The final act returned to piano: more Philip Glass, more fiendishly difficult fingerwork for Tony Bai, who never once broke focus even as he checked Courtney Conovan’s every step during her solo. This was Millepied at his most lyrical, painting sweeping arcs of joy across Mark Bradford’s painted canvas backdrop. I was a big fan of this set design, as well as the choreography in this act. Not super sold on the costumes, but I did like how each one was unique, like a jewel is.   Here, we saw some of the most emotionally resonant duets of the night. Robert Hoffer and Tom Guilbaud’s pas de deux was a rare treat: two masc. dancers in seamless counterpoint, strength yielding to fluidity. Later, Daphne Fernberger and Courtney Conovan delivered an intense duet, their lifts and balances set against Glass’s furious piano. Daphne and Shu’s endless lifts and lightning-fast catches were so smooth, I half-joked to myself their “lift call” must last longer than rehearsal! Courtney’s solo, framed by beautiful tableaus of the rest of the dancers lit around her, was another highlight. I found that Hope, Daphne, and Shu danced with SUCH pure joy, I could feel it pulsating from them. Everyone else clearly danced with a huge passion too, but those three really made an impression.   Final thoughts With two intermissions, this show clocked in at just over two and a half hours. That’s a lot of dancing!  The stamina required was staggering: dancers and musicians alike pouring themselves into every phrase. And Brisbane audiences responded in kind, erupting in applause after each act.   Across three acts, Millepied took us from fractured longing, to communal urgency, to lyrical resolution…. each a jewel in its own right, and together a glittering triptych. It’s not every day that Brisbane plays host to a world premiere of this calibre, and it truly felt like a once-in-a-lifetime performance. And even if, like me, you’re quite daft when it comes to dance… the sheer spectacle of the daring lifts, the live music, the athleticism, and artistry was enough to sweep anyone along. Photography by Jade Ellis, Laurent Philippe, Rose Eichenbaum

Presented by La Boite Theatre, Sydney Theatre Company and Singapore Repertory Theatre in association with Brisbane Festival Directed by Courtney Stewart Written by Merlynn Tong   Forget quiet pre-show chit-chat in the foyer. Congratulations, Get Rich!  didn’t ease us in, it hurled us headfirst into the night. Classic karaoke tunes pulsed through the courtyard of La Boite Theatre as a lion dance exploded across the space; a joyful nod to Singaporean culture that primed us for the chaos, comedy, and catharsis to come. On Riverfire night no less, Brisbane was already buzzing, but inside La Boite the energy was about to burn brighter, louder, and a whole lot weirder.   We arrive at Money Money Karaoke, Mandy’s beloved business, where golden trimmings, a giant karaoke screen, and an army of lucky cats (maneki-neko) promise that prosperity is only a song away. This grand opening extravaganza also happens to coincide with People’s Day, the seventh day of Chinese New Year, when it is everyone’s birthday! It’s also Mandy’s 38th, which should be a reason to celebrate… except her soul and her business are both on shaky ground.   Playwright Merlynn Tong grew up in her parents’ lush and decadent karaoke bars of Singapore. When she was six, her father passed from cancer; when she was fourteen, her mother took her own life. It is this lived history she pours into Mandy. You can feel the love, grief, and nostalgia in every word, every face-pull, every manic outburst. At times she’s a crazy-intense businesswoman barking rules, and at others, a terrified daughter pleading: “Tell me my strengths, Mummy!”  Tong is a magnetic presence that is equal parts hilarious, heartbreaking, and utterly unfiltered.   Enter two unexpected guests: Mandy’s mother (Seong Hui Xuan) and her sassy grandmother (Kimie Tsukakoshi), both long dead. These ghosts burst into Mandy’s world and, after a fair bit of valid panic, her grandmother vows to help Mandy get rich. “Of course I want to be rich, I’m Chinese!”  quips Mandy. The rules of the night are quickly upended: sing in this room, and you’ll be sucked into the TV, suddenly performing a full-blown number (complete with unintentional choreography). These Singaporean ladies are extra in the best way, spilling over with sharp banter, outrageous ballads, and a fair dose of intergenerational tension.   Their comedic trip to the past is illustrated through inventive song numbers as we learn what happened to Mum and Grandma and why they both died at age 38. Performed live against recorded backing vocals, Guy Webster’s original compositions are catchy, emotive, and full of surprises. Tsukakoshi’s voice cuts like crystal, while Seong delivers vocals that send shivers down the spine.   Xavier, Mandy’s goofy Australian partner (Zac Boulton), brings plenty of comic relief with his daggy dad jokes and awkward attempts to help. The humour can be absurd (think hungry-ghost exorcist vibes), but the heart beneath it is undeniable. Beneath the karaoke glitz and humour lies some darkness. Themes of suicide and the weight of parental blame are never far away. The question “Why did you leave this world at 38?”  echoes like a refrain, haunting mother, grandmother, and daughter alike. The lighting (Gabriel Chan) and sound (Webster again) use violent bursts, strobes, and noise to fracture scenes, pulling us deeper into Mandy’s disoriented world. Courtney Stewart’s direction keeps all of this chaos finely tuned. The tonal shifts between hilarity and gut-punch grief feel precise, never jarring. She lets the absurdity run wild, but always anchors it in truth, ensuring that the humour doesn’t undercut the heaviness, it balances it. One minute you’re laughing at Grandma’s sass ( “Is it time for a song? Or food?” ), the next you’re gut-punched by her monologue about trying to control an uncontrollable world: “That’s what grandmothers are for, dropping truth bombs.” The magic of this production is its refusal to stay in one genre. It’s sci-fi meets musical meets madcap comedy. There’s even a cheeky fourth-wall moment I won’t spoil… but trust me, it lands.   Congratulations, Get Rich!  is a 90-minute whirlwind of transformation. Through outrageous comedy and supernatural song, Mandy reckons with her past and claws towards hope. “I live on in you”  caught me off guard, offering unexpected comfort for my own current grief.   My advice? Lean into the chaos. This show is a portal, and once you step through that string-curtain doorway, you won’t want to leave.   Trigger warnings:  This production contains coarse language, strobe lighting, loud noises, and themes of suicide, intergenerational trauma, death.

4 – 13 September QPAC Lyric Theatre Presented by Brisbane Festival and Opera Queensland in association with QPAC Brisbane Festival has sprung to life with the first blush of spring, but inside QPAC’s Lyric Theatre it is very much winter. Delicate flakes of snow drift across the stage, dusting a frosted glasshouse where shadowy silhouettes of our bohemians flicker in candlelight. As the audience settles into their seats, children and townsfolk bustle past, their laughter sparkling with Christmas Eve spirit. In this moment, Brisbane has vanished and everyone ready to be swept into another world. It’s as if 1920s Paris itself has been bottled and set to shimmer in front of us.   Opera Queensland’s new co-production with West Australian Opera proves the story is just as poignant as ever with Matt Reuben James Ward directing and Umberto Clerici leading the orchestra. For more than a century, Puccini’s La bohème  has held audiences spellbound, and it’s no wonder. It has everything: passionate romance, cheeky comedy, and gut-punching tragedy, and music so beautiful it could thaw even the iciest Brisbane winter night, all wrapped up in themes of love, youth, friendship, and fragility that still feel achingly familiar today.   The set, designed by Charles Davis, spins on a revolving stage, transforming from the bohemians’ shabby residence to the bustling Christmas markets to a glowing café. There’s even a crackling fireplace, complete with smoke and flame effects, where poet Rodolfo (Valerio Borgioni) burns his manuscripts for warmth while his friends banter, dream, and tease each other. Whether Samuel Dundas (Marcello), Jeremy Kleeman (Schaunard), and Luke Stoker (Colline) are squabbling like brothers, lamenting love, or finding levity in poverty, their chemistry anchors the opera’s more playful scenes.   It’s in this glasshouse that Mimì (Elena Perroni) arrives, feigning the need to light her lamp on a moonless night. Her not-so-chance encounter with Rodolfo blooms into one of opera’s most iconic romances. “In my happy poverty, I feast on love songs like I’m a prince” — Borgioni’s aria is breathtaking, his tone as rich and golden as the firelight, while Perroni’s soaring high notes tingle in my ears and bounce around every curve of the Lyric Theatre. Together, their voices fuse in a duet that feels both inevitable and intoxicating.   The Queensland Symphony Orchestra under Clerici’s baton delivers a lush, perfectly balanced soundscape. There are no microphones here of course; just raw, unamplified human voices soaring over Puccini’s score. Even for first-time opera-goers, surtitles in English ensure nothing is lost in the Italian lyrics (except perhaps in those delightfully chaotic group overlaps).   Act 2 bursts open with Christmas Eve at the markets: a riot of colour and community. The Opera Queensland Chorus and Children’s Chorus fill the stage, alongside elegantly dressed ladies, vendors, and even Santa. The café scene glows with life as Rodolfo and his friends dine with Mimì, setting up some excellent hijinks that remind us these are young adults, still brimming with energy and mischief despite their circumstances.   Enter Musetta (Nina Korbe), who immediately steals the spotlight. Sassy, stylish, and utterly self-assured, her number is the Italian forebear to Rent ’s “Take Me or Leave Me,” and it is fabulous. She toys with men, dazzles her ex Marcello, and parades about in costumes so divine I want to applaud the wardrobe department separately. Korbe and Dundas share a chemistry that crackles with passion, their fiery dynamic a thrilling counterpoint to the tender tether of Rodolfo and Mimì. By Act 3, we’re treated to one of the most powerful moments of the opera: a double duet as one couple splits in anger, the other in sorrow, while the revolving stage shifts our perspective like a cinematic lens. It’s stunning storytelling by director Matt Reuben James Ward, layered with vocal brilliance and underscored by the relentless fall of snow. And yet, even amidst poverty, illness, and heartbreak, there are flashes of joy. The bohemians muck about in the snow, playing pretend at a banquet, laughing at their own misfortune… la vie bohème indeed. It’s these moments of their resilience that make our trials and tribulations of today seem small.   By Act 4, the tone shifts. Even knowing the ending (and most of us do), Mimì’s illness still cuts like glass. Perroni’s portrayal is devastatingly tender and fragile, yet vocally radiant even as she lies prone onstage. It feels almost cruel, how unfair life can be to the most gentle and kind. As Rodolfo crumples, I sat in stunned silence, grieving alongside him.   This La bohème  is set in 1920s Paris rather than the original 1830s, which gives us glorious costuming, flapper glamour, and period detail without losing the timelessness of the story. Christine Felmingham’s lighting design wraps it all in warmth and shadow, while hair and makeup evoke the glamour of the Jazz Age. And while the opera itself is over a century old, its themes remain relevant: love and loss, youth and poverty, joy and despair, the brief sparkle of life itself.   Opera Queensland’s La bohème  is both a triumph for seasoned opera lovers and an ideal entry point for the uninitiated. If you’ve only known its similar counterparts (like Rent  and Moulin Rouge ), here is the source: the original bohemian tragedy, delivered with wit, beauty, and heartbreaking humanity. On opening night, as the final silent curtain fall gave way to a thunderous standing ovation, it felt as though everyone in the Lyric Theatre knew they had been part of something special and fleeting.   Photography by Murray Summerville

Presented by Caper & Crow, Brisbane Festival, Blackbird Brisbane and Twelfth Night Theatre Playing 2 – 28 September, 2025   This year marks 100 years since F. Scott Fitzgerald first introduced us to Jay Gatsby, and what better way to celebrate than with a party Gatsby himself would throw?   For Brisbane Festival 2025, the Twelfth Night Theatre has been reborn. Forget the venue you thought you knew, the theatre has been reimagined as The Green Light , a sultry, shimmering cabaret club where Gatsby swans through the haze with a glass of champagne in hand.   The party begins before you even step inside. The foyer gleams with a full Gatsby glow-up: a sleek gin bar, glamorous photo spots, and a whiff of decadence in every corner. I arrive in my one and only flapper dress, somehow managing to both blend in and stand out. Once ushered into the transformed theatre, the immersion is instant. Haze curls over cabaret tables, waiters balance trays of cocktails, flashing you a smile that make you feel like the guest of honour, before suddenly breaking into epic choreography (talk about multitasking!). The waitstaff truly serve while serving , with Jacob McPherson, Jaimie Nirvana, Maddi Xuereb, and Mariia Borysiak leading the charge, alongside their equally magnetic ensemble (sorry if you are not mentioned by name! I'm going off the BrisFest website). Whether dazzling as dancers or soaring as aerialists, they are all exquisite, weaving precision, stamina, and heat into every corner of the theatre.   Director Craig Ilott and set designers Renier Jansen van Vuuren and Stuart Couzens have transformed the Twelfth Night into a decadent playground. The staging is ingenious: a double-level structure with Gatsby himself (Spencer Craig) surveying his guests from on high, and a bar so lavishly stocked with every spirit imaginable that it becomes a glittering centrepiece rather than just a backdrop. Lighting designer Matt Marshall bathes the room (and the shelves of that bar) in shifting neon and golden spotlights. Under Kim Moyes’ music direction, the soundtrack swings from 1920s riffs to thumping modern beats; one moment Fitzgerald’s world, the next a club floor in the Valley. The sound doesn’t just play at  us, it surrounds and engulfs, an electric mix of swing, pop, and remixed anthems that pulses through the whole space. One laughter-heavy track did grate on my ears, but the accompanying act helped distract. Costumes by Mason Browne and Rose Jurd swing between era-accurate glamour and daring modern reveals, always leaving us teetering on the edge of imagination… until they don’t. Hair and makeup were flawless, glittering under the lights. The acts come thick and fast. Choreographer Lucas Newland ensures every inch of staircases, aisles, balconies, and bar is claimed by dazzling movement. Oscar Kaufmann redefines “sexy” by entwining himself around a coat/hat stand in an aerial routine I didn’t know I needed in my life. Daniela Del Mar had jaws on the floor with her hair suspension act (yes, suspended by her hair — ouch!). Caitlin Marion Tomson-Moylan and Craig pair as Gatsby and Daisy in a sensuous aerial hoop routine floating somewhere between tragedy and ecstasy; and Tommy J. Egan taps up a storm to a jazz-infused remix of “Uptown Funk.”   One moment Florian Vandemeulebroucke is balancing glasses, the next he is dazzling us with a glow-in-the-dark juggling act. Bettie Bombshell brings cheeky comedy and fire twirling (literally), to her burlesque act, shouting “Happy Father’s Day!” to us with feral joy. Singer Georgia Sallybanks (aka Odette) stuns each time she opens her mouth; sultry vocals cutting clean through the chaos to ground the spectacle in a pulse of raw talent. What I really adore is how every corner of the theatre is fair game. Dancers slip into the aisles, pull audience members onto their feet, strip off layers to “Mr Saxobeat,” and blur the line between cast and crowd. At one point I found myself screaming with delight as Gatsby strode past me… he ignored me, of course, but what’s a girl to do when he only has eyes for Daisy?   Spencer Craig’s Gatsby looms throughout, less a man than a phantom host. His rope act to “Dancing On My Own” cut through the glitter with an ache that felt very Fitzgerald indeed. That thread of melancholy gives the night surprising depth: among all the excess and abandon, you can’t escape the reminder that Gatsby’s world was built on longing. The crowd was loud and gleeful (especially impressive for a Sunday night) and by the time we were showered in Gatsby-branded hundred-dollar bills and the giant champagne glass made its appearance, any restraint had definitely dissolved. Gatsby at the Green Light  is less a show you watch and more a party you tumble into. Around 80 minutes of aerial artistry, burlesque, circus, and dance, served with a martini and a wink. The pace never lags, and the freedom to duck out if you wish gives it a relaxed, club-like feel. Do heed the warnings though: there’s haze, strobe, partial nudity, adult themes, and plenty of front-row interaction. I did notice a man with a cane struggling on the stairs, so here’s hoping there is an accessible entrance to the theatre.   As part of Brisbane Festival , this feels pitch-perfect: bold, immersive, devilishly fun, and utterly alive. It’s exactly the kind of show that makes a festival feel like a citywide celebration, not just another night at the theatre. Pro tip: If you can, splash out for the VIP cabaret tables. The food and cocktails elevate the whole evening, and being right in the thick of the action makes the experience even more immersive (and steamy). Perfect for a date, a group outing, or anyone who wants to be swept into the reckless joy of Gatsby’s world. Photography by Morgan Roberts and Daniel Boud and Prudence Upton

Title:  RENT Presented By:  Javeenbah Theatre Company Genre:  Rock Opera / Musical Synopsis: Set in the East Village of New York City in the 1990s, RENT  follows a group of young bohemians struggling with poverty, love, loss, addiction, and the HIV/AIDS epidemic. Through rock music and raw storytelling, the show explores friendship, chosen family, and the pursuit of art in the face of adversity. Audition Date:  Saturday 18 October 2025 Audition Time:  By booked 10-minute slot (via email) Audition Location and Address:  Javeenbah Theatre, Nerang QLD Audition Requirements: Prepare one song not from RENT, no longer than 3 minutes, that demonstrates vocal ability, range, and storytelling. Backing track must be on USB or device compatible with Bluetooth speaker. Be familiar with the entire show prior to auditioning. Callbacks: Monday 20 October 2025 at 7pm. Callback materials (song excerpts + script) will be provided if invited. Must be comfortable with mature themes, sexual language, references to drug use, trauma, HIV/AIDS, and physical intimacy. Email RENT.javeenbah@gmail.com Audition Pack:   Download Here Register Here:   Audition Registration Form Performance Dates:  7 – 21 March 2026 Performance Location:  Javeenbah Theatre, Nerang QLD Rehearsal Dates:  Begin 13 November 2025, with a break from 22 Dec 2025 – 5 Jan 2026 Rehearsal Times:  Full schedule available on request (Tuesdays, Thursdays, Sundays expected) Warnings:  Mature content including explicit language, drug use, trauma, suicide, and references to HIV/AIDS. Same-sex intimacy and drag performance involved. Performer Age:  18+ Creative Team: Director: Kaela Gray Musical Director: Rachel Love Production Website:   Javeenbah Auditions Other information: Successful auditionees must become financial members of Javeenbah Theatre Company ($10). Cast members expected to assist with front of house duties during the previous production’s season. Available Roles/Character Breakdown: (Playing ages approximate – actors outside ranges may still audition if able to convincingly portray the role) Mark Cohen  – Male, mid 20s–30s. Quirky filmmaker and narrator. Vocal range A2–G4. Roger Davis  – Male, mid 20s–30s. Struggling musician, HIV+. Vocal range F2–A4. Mimi Marquez  – Female, 19. Dancer, HIV+, struggles with addiction. Vocal range Eb3–E5. Tom Collins  – Male, early 30s–40s. Gay professor, HIV+. Vocal range F#2–A4. Angel Dumont Schunard  – Non-binary/Trans/Male, early 20s–30s. Drag queen, HIV+, generous and flamboyant. Vocal range C3–A4. Maureen Johnson  – Female, mid 20s–30s. Bisexual performance artist, confident diva. Vocal range C4–F5. Joanne Jefferson  – Female, late 20s–30s. Lawyer, activist, lesbian, Maureen’s partner. Vocal range G3–E5. Benjamin “Benny” Coffin III  – Male, mid 20s–30s. Landlord, former friend, married into wealth. Vocal range Bb2–F#4. Ensemble  – All genders and identities, all ages, vocal ranges. Plays multiple supporting roles.

Presented by:  THAT Production Company at Metro Arts Written by:  Clare Barron Directed by:  Timothy Wynn Choreography & AD:  Jennifer B. Ashley Photography:  Kenn Santos, Stage Shots Walking into Metro Arts for THAT Production Company’s Dance Nation , I had absolutely no clue what to expect, which honestly is the best way to experience a show this wildly unpredictable. Even before it began, the theatre was pulsing with Gaga, Chappell Roan, and the unmistakable rhythm of a hundred dressing rooms I’ve known. All that was missing was the smell of hairspray and someone crying over fake eyelashes... HUGE thanks to THAT Production Company for the last-minute ticket, because within five minutes I realised this was going to be a new favourite! Written by Clare Barron , Dance Nation  follows a troupe of tween dancers on the blood-sweat-and-tears road to national glory, all while navigating the messy metamorphosis of puberty. It’s the unhinged chaos of Dance Moms  meets the piercing tenderness of A Chorus Line , filtered through the hormonal haze of Euphoria . It’s the kind of show where you never quite know what’s coming next... The twist? Every “child” in the show is played by an adult actor. But they didn’t mock or parody adolescence; they inhabited it. Grown adults remembering what it actually felt like to be thirteen: dramatic, envious, messy, naïve, embarrassed, and full of dreams too big for their own good. The production affectionately poked fun at the things that often defines growing up in the arts: competition culture, social cliques, bizarre warm-ups, the “visionary” teacher with a God complex, and the endless hunt for validation. If you grew up in dance classes with your best friend (or like me, in theatre and choir) practically living at your rehearsal studio, you would appreciate every bit of this satire. The seven leads carried the story like an imperfect troupe: Carla Haynes  as Zuzu, Jeanda St James  as Amina, Janaki Gerard  as Connie, Thea Raveanu  as Ashlee, Jessica Veurman  as Maeve, Johanna Lyon  as Sophia, and Morgan Francis  as Luke. Each brought a distinct personality that felt instantly recognisable, not just as a character, but as an archetype of someone we once knew, or perhaps even were... Carla Haynes  led the pack as Zuzu, all nervous energy and internalised self-doubt, opposite Jeanda St James  as her more naturally gifted best friend, Amina. Their dynamic was beautifully complex: that uncomfortable friendship where one person shines a little brighter, a fact both know but never dare to say aloud. You could feel the sting of comparison between them, that strange mix of love and envy that comes from growing side by side but at different speeds. One reaching, the other already glowing. Carla embodied the girl who works diligently but always feels a step behind, while Jeanda radiated that golden aura tinged with loneliness, the quiet guilt of someone who knows her light casts shadows on her friends. Their scenes felt so real it made me squirm in my seat with that familiar “I’m so happy for you, but also… why not me?” energy. Jeanda's monologue about “riding the wave along” was raw and rippling with pride, exhaustion, hope, isolation, and that deeply human ache to succeed. While Carla as Zuzu mused innocently on love and her imagined future life as a dancer-slash-astrophysicist widow, and it was both wistful and profound. Her line, “I think falling in love is like remembering,” carried such simple grace. She found a quiet clarity about what truly brings her joy, and I was completely absorbed in her delivery. Janaki Gerard  landed the funniest blunt lines in the show while also being the cutest character. Her fierce “prayer” for the solo was pure theatre kid energy, the kind of desperate, hopeful plea to the universe we’ve all made at least once, right? Thea Raveanu  delivered one of the night’s most jaw-dropping moments: a spiralling, explicit monologue about beauty, brains, desire, and the baffling mystery of why people don’t just try harder at maths! It was raw, fearless, and unexpectedly funny in its confession. Johanna Lyon  channelled the hormonal hurricane of girlhood with a wild, relatable monologue of rage and confusion. Meanwhile, Morgan Francis  portrayed Luke with all the awkwardness and vulnerability of a young teen trying to find his place in a sea of leotards, glitter, and girls. One of the moments that really got me was Maeve’s monologue, beautifully delivered by Jessica Veurman , about her ability to float in the air. Her younger self, Charlie Cliff , drifted through the space beside her, and suddenly I was a kid again. I remembered being that child who thought flying and breathing underwater were entirely possible. The show kept uncovering those secret childhood beliefs we bury as adults, holding them up to the light through movement and words that seemed to slow time down... letting them shimmer briefly before dissolving again. Cameron Hurry’s  dance teacher Pat was a mix of delusion, self-importance, and committed conviction. His “inspirational” pep talks were spectacularly unhelpful, and his grand artistic epiphany for the troupe's next masterpiece, World on Fire , involved casting a soloist as Gandhi (AND as the Spirit of Gandhi) to express world peace through dance. Naturally, what he considered revolutionary genius turned out to be a hilariously camp sequence (complete with vampire fangs?) choreographed by Jennifer B. Ashley  to Buttons  by The Pussycat Dolls, if I recall correctly. Cameron captured exactly how young artists absorb every bizarre adult pronouncement and idea like it’s gospel. The incomparable Aurelie Roque  played every one of the dancers’ mums, switching between characters with lightning precision, each so distinct I kept forgetting it was the same person. She also appeared as young Vanessa in the opening tap number, the star student who promptly got injured in Scene One. Her “small child at an Eisteddfod” acting was so perfect that I immediately clocked what was happening: oh, these adults are playing the kids . Brilliant. Speaking of the tweens, the BG Performing Arts  contingent added a gorgeous layer of memory meeting the present. Holly Anderson  (young Amina), Charlie Cliff  (young Maeve), Milo White  (young Luke), Chelsea Howard  (young Connie), and Chloe Mortimer  (young Ashlee) all featured throughout, plus the fabulous tap ensemble to kick things off! The moment where Luke and his mum are travelling home after dance class, sharing few words while Milo drifts through a lyrical solo, was simple and beautiful. Later, Chloe and Chelsea’s duet was heartfelt in capturing friendship in motion. The inclusion of these young performers blurred time itself, as the adults watched their younger selves, and the dreamers they once were, dancing in the same light. There were so many times I didn’t know whether to laugh, cringe, or cry. The Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy  bit had dancers using just their faces to perform under a single spotlight, like a ridiculous drama class warm-up. Competition day arrived with the exact last-minute chaos that any performer will recognise. Someone got their period for the first time and panicked. Someone else spiralled because the rival schools had more boys in their troupe. Lucky toys went missing. Teacher Pat tried to be inspirational and somehow made everything worse. When the troupe finally performed World on Fire  and Janaki Gerard  appeared as Gandhi with a moustache and tiny glasses, I was gone. Sorry to the folks sitting in front of me, but her resemblance to the Lorax had me cackling. And when the number pivoted to Like a Prayer  (Club Mix), I have no idea how the cast kept a straight face. The concentration, the over-grinning, the dancer walk, the simplified choreography, and the way a tiny mistake feels like the end of the world when you’re thirteen… it was gold! Under all the laughter, the show kept pulling the rug out from under us. It didn’t shy away from the big topics: puberty, body image, sexual awakening, the cult-like devotion to teachers, and the relentless pressure to be perfect. There was a brief but pointed nod to the way grown men look at young girls. There was fake blood and frank confessions that felt almost too intimate to witness. One powerful split-stage moment showed Johanna Lyon’s  Sophia raging on her period in one area, Janaki Gerard’s  Connie playing peacefully with her toy horses in another, and Jeanda St James’  Amina quietly exploring herself in the third. Three versions of girlhood. Director Timothy Wynn  guided these moments with a steady, gentle hand. Each performer delivered a monologue that opened a window into their inner world until the stage felt like one big, collective diary. Themes of ambition and identity wove through their pieces with honesty and bite. It was confronting, and it reminded us just how weird and wonderfully hard growing up actually is. Visually, the production was both simple and stunning. Production designer Eva Fritz  placed five large mirrors across the back of the stage, instantly evoking the endless repetition of a dance studio. But these weren’t ordinary mirrors. They turned transparent, revealing what lay behind them: photo walls of past cohorts, private conversations, bathroom secrets... It was clever and layered, a reminder that what we see in the mirror is never the full story. Wes Bluff’s  dazzling lighting sculpted the space beautifully, shifting from harsh rehearsal brightness to dreamlike haze to kaleidoscopic patterns. Brady Watkins’  sound design roared and whispered by turns, filling every transition with life and keeping the energy electric throughout. The show raced by at 105 minutes with no interval, but I never once felt the urge to check my watch. Dance Nation  wasn’t about winning a competition. It was a dramedy about surviving the ugly, beautiful chaos of adolescence and finding your own rhythm within it. The audience laughed knowingly at every dance-mum cliché, every hormonal meltdown, every brutal teacher comment. I came in expecting jazz hands and tap shoes (and yep, got them), but left thinking about who I was at thirteen and how far I’ve come. THAT Production Company delivered a show that refused to dance “right”; it danced real . And it was awesome.

Presented by: Redcliffe Musical Theatre at Redcliffe Entertainment Centre Director & Producer: Madeleine Johns Music Direction: Rhonda Davidson-Irwin Choreography: Jill Rowlands Set Design: Jonathan Johns Costumes: Betty Rowsell, Erickson Ilustre and Madeleine Johns Sound Design: Connor Chadwick Lighting Design: Chris Walke Visual Effects: Angus Pitman and Madeleine Johns Photo Credit: Bruce Redman and Alan Burchill There’s no place like the theatre, and Redcliffe Musical Theatre’s The Wizard of Oz  was a sparkling reminder of just that. The place was packed with families, including tiny humans in ruby-red slippers. This production took the cherished 1939 film and gave it a stage makeover through the Royal Shakespeare Company’s adaptation by John Kane, keeping all the beloved songs and magic intact. For anyone who’s somehow missed this timeless tale, The Wizard of Oz  follows young Dorothy Gale, swept away from her Kansas farmhouse by a twister and dropped into the vibrant land of Oz. Along the yellow brick road, she meets a Scarecrow, a Tin Man and a Cowardly Lion, each searching for something they already have within themselves (spoiler alert lol). Zoe Hitchcock made for a sweet and sunny Dorothy, radiating sincerity that carried her from Kansas to the Emerald City. Her rendition of ' Over the Rainbow'  was tender and true, and her rapport with Aunt Em (Nikol Trenberth) felt wonderfully natural. The two of them nailed the frantic energy of the opening scenes, though I did wish for a touch more urgency from other surrounding characters to match their intensity like more anger towards Mrs Gulch or fear of the tornado. Glinda, played by Rachel Albrecht in a glittering gown, floated on with grace and a voice as warm as her smile. Her kindness provided the perfect contrast to Dee Heath’s Wicked Witch, who boasted a strong voice and confident command of the stage. I almost wanted her to go even bigger, using bolder gestures to really revel in her gleeful wickedness rather than holding back by clinging to her costume. The journey down the yellow brick road was a joy thanks to three delightful traveling companions. Alex Holmes was born to play the Scarecrow: floppy-limbs, beautiful vocals, and full of endearing cluelessness. His physical slapstick and expressive face delighted the young audience in ' If I Only Had a Brain'.  The crows teasing him were a riot too! Alex clearly has a natural gift for children’s theatre; he knows exactly how to milk every funny line for maximum giggles without losing the heart of the character. Erickson Ilustre’s Tin Man had the audience letting out a synchronised “aww.” With his smooth voice and gentle manner, his ' If I Only Had a Heart'  was as sweet as a lullaby. He played the role with a heartwarming tenderness, while tossing in some effortless humour to make him infinitely likeable. Lucas van Stam pounced onto the stage as Cowardly Lion, with strong physicality and an impressive vocal range. He delivered his lines with gusto and to be fair, he does get some of the best ones! His ' King of the Forest'  may have stretched a little long, likely to buy time for a set change, but Lucas kept the audience entertained with his larger-than-life personality. The Emerald City Guard (Lucas Hanlon) had a short but unforgettable moment, milking it for all it was worth! Meanwhile, Terry Skinner’s Wizard boomed impressively from afar, enhanced by smoke and lighting effects that added a sense of grandeur to his reveal. And Toto might have been the smallest cast member, but he had the biggest fan club. Nearly every lead role in this large cast was double-cast, a good way to give more local performers a chance to shine but less rehearsal time for all. Instead of a live orchestra, they went with recorded backing tracks. This choice occasionally led to some musical cues showing up fashionably late, but the sound balance was clear and well-managed throughout. The tech was ambitious, featuring moving set pieces, a kaleidoscope of backdrops, rainbow lighting design, and even AI-style effects in the tornado sequence. Those tornado visuals could have definitely been improved for a smoother transition into Munchkinland, but once we arrived in Oz, the stage burst to life. And the glowing yellow-brick path was a great lighting surprise! Jill Rowlands’ choreography suited the large ensemble perfectly, keeping movement simple enough for confident singing and bright smiles instead of 'concentration faces'. ' The Merry Old Land of Oz'  sparkled with glitz and energy in lovely costumes, while ' The Jitterbug'  was a speedy-paced standout with neon zoot suits, quick footwork, and impressive stamina from the whole company. Vocally, the ensemble sang mostly in unison, which kept the sound cohesive, though I was hoping for a sprinkle of harmony here and there to spice things up. Some dialogue pacing was challenging with the amount of underscoring, but the cast navigated those moments with focus and patience. The poppy-field scene was a little awkwardly staged, though it was clear the creative team worked within the limits of the space. The kiddos around me were utterly enchanted, the grown-ups smiled knowingly through the nostalgia, and those familiar songs rang out like old friends. This Wizard of Oz  captured the very soul of community theatre — a place of imagination, courage, and heart. It may not have been the most polished Emerald City, but certainly one that sparkled where it mattered most.

Presented By: Arise Theatricals Genre: Variety / Circus / Dance / Musical Theatre Synopsis: Arise Theatricals is creating a new variety show to showcase Queensland’s incredible youth talent. From circus artistry and dance to vocals and musical theatre, this performance is an opportunity for young artists to share their skills on stage. This is a community project (unpaid) but a valuable chance to perform alongside other talented youth and be part of a professionally supported showcase. Audition Date: Submissions due by Thursday 25 September 2025 Audition Requirements: Performers must be 12+ years old Must have stage experience, confidence, and strong audience engagement Based in Brisbane or surrounding areas Looking for versatile acts in: Circus (acrobatics, hand balancing, tumbling, contortion, hula hoops, acro-dance) Dance (tap, jazz, contemporary, MT) Vocals (solo or group singing) Musical Theatre For Ground Acts: Submit via email/DM with: Your age A CV (if available) A recent headshot (if available) A video of your act, recorded within the last 12 months Audition Registration: DM via Instagram @arisetheatricals  or email arisetheatricals@gmail.com Performance Dates: 9–10 January 2026 Performance Times: Two performances across the weekend (possible extension if demand is high) Performance Location: Brisbane’s southern suburbs (exact venue TBA) Rehearsal Dates: To be confirmed with successful auditionees Performer Age: 12+ Production Website: Instagram: @arisetheatricals Other information: A platform to highlight youth talent from across Queensland Collaborative performance experience Community project designed to celebrate and encourage young performers