Piotr Anderszewski

Piotr Anderszewski (Musica Viva Australia)

Piotr Anderszewski (Musica Viva Australia) Rating

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Some concerts creep up on you. Others announce themselves with force. Piotr Anderszewski’s recital at Melbourne Recital Centre did something rarer. It invited us in with quiet confidence and then held the entire room completely still. It was the kind of night that reminds you why we gather in concert halls instead of sitting at home scrolling through recordings.

The program opened with twelve pieces selected from Brahms’ late piano works Opp. 116 to 119. These miniatures can feel introspective, even private, but Anderszewski treated them like a conversation he was having directly with us. Nothing about his playing felt unconsidered. Every shift in colour had purpose. Every pause had weight. There was virtuosity here but it was the kind that draws you closer rather than pushing you back. The hall was silent enough (save for the single phone ringing that, I swear, brought a subtle shake of the head from the pianist) to hear the softest phrases land like thoughts forming in real time.

After interval came Bach. Anderszewski delivered the Prelude and Fugue in E major BWV 878 and the Prelude and Fugue in G sharp minor BWV 887 with a clarity that never tipped into dryness. He let the melodic lines speak with a simplicity that suited the space. Elisabeth Murdoch Hall has the kind of acoustic that wraps a performer in a warm glow without smudging the detail. It felt made for this music.

 

 

Then came one of the loveliest theatrical touches of the evening. Without any break or invitation for applause, Anderszewski slipped straight into Beethoven’s Sonata No. 31 in A flat major Op. 110. You could feel the audience catch on one by one. A tiny ripple of realisation moved through the hall.  It was clever and charming and made the transition feel like part of the storytelling rather than a reset.

His Beethoven had an almost improvisatory quality. Not loose for the sake of it but alive to the moment. Dynamic shifts surprised us yet always connected to the emotional flow of the work. The Arioso dolente was especially moving and the fugue grew with a kind of quiet determination that suited Anderszewski’s understated presence at the keyboard. Nothing was showy beyond necessity. Everything was honest and heartfelt.

Two encores followed after an eruption of applause at the end of the evening. The first felt like a warm nod to the audience and the final encore offered a gentle send off. A perfect ending.

Musica Viva deserves real credit for bringing this artist to Australia and for programming a recital that felt both rare and completely right for this venue. Elisabeth Murdoch Hall remains one of the great gifts to Melbourne audiences. Nights like this prove it.

To book tickets to Piotr Anderszewski (Musica Viva Australia), please visit https://www.musicaviva.com.au/concert-season/past-seasons/concerts-2025/piotr-anderszewski/.

Photographer: Claudio Raschella

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Titus Andronicus

Titus Andronicus

Titus Andronicus Rating

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3

Theatre Works and Th’ Unguarded Duncan have delivered a Titus Andronicus that shakes the dust off Shakespeare’s most brutal tragedy and gives it a visceral, contemporary pulse. It’s a nightmarish, muscular production filled with human vulnerability and psychological horror rather than empty shock value and it had the audience ricocheting between laughter, gasps and the occasional tear. This is Titus for newcomers and die-hard Shakespeare fans alike.

At the centre of it all is Josh Morrison as Titus, who unleashes an unrelenting rage that never tips into caricature. His performance is a thunderous force, yet it sits on a foundation of emotional authenticity that makes the character’s descent compelling. For my taste, I might have enjoyed a sharper arc from decorated general to shattered father, but Morrison’s clarity of intention gives the role a gripping cohesion that I really can’t fault. It’s easily the best Titus I’ve seen.

Joanna Halliday’s Lavinia is spellbinding. She begins the play vivacious and bright then slowly transforms into something still, deliberate and driven. Her physical and emotional control draws your eye even in silence. Halliday leans into the horror elements without losing the character’s dignity, giving us a Lavinia who is both haunting and heartbreakingly human.

Helen Hopkins grounds Marcus with immaculate text work. She brings the energy of a seasoned Shakespearian actor, the kind who makes the verse feel like breath rather than technique. Marcus can vanish in a sea of titanic characters, but Hopkins’ patrician poise ensures the role resonates.

 

 

The production finds remarkable subtlety in its men of war. Rajendra Moodley (Aaron) and River Stevens (Lucius) deliver monologues that feel as if they’re aimed straight at each audience member. Their grounded humanity makes their choices believable and their presence magnetic.

Meanwhile, the Goth brothers steal scene after scene. James Cerche (Chiron) and Seon Williams (Demetrius) are wickedly funny, disturbingly casual and physically razor sharp. Their playful cruelty taps perfectly into the show’s tonal balance of horror and wit.

Victoria Haslam’s Tamora delights in viciousness, particularly in her chilling condemnation of Lavinia. She’s dangerous, charismatic and hard to look away from.

Directors Kevin Hopkins and Claire Nicholls craft a production that feels purposeful in every moment. The physicality is cohesive, the pacing is tight and the story is crystal clear without ever being over-explained. The minimal set keeps the focus on the ensemble, and while the central ring’s construction briefly distracted me, its use to delineate space and evoke the infamous pit was inspired. Lighting stays subtle and supportive, letting the actors carve the world. Max Hopkins’ sporadic bursts of heavy metal underscore transform key scenes into something almost cinematic, heightening tension and chaos in all the right places.

Paulina Kostov and Victoria Haslam’s costuming choices and creation drew a sharp line between worlds: disciplined Romans in hakama and rebellious Goths in punk-inspired gear. It’s a clever visual shorthand that deepens the storytelling.

This production made me see Titus Andronicus in a new light. It strips away the noise and brings the humanity right to the surface. A thrilling, haunting and deeply satisfying night of theatre at Theatre Works.

To book tickets to Titus Andronicus , please visit https://www.theatreworks.org.au/2025/titus-andronicus.

Photographer: James William

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Greeking Out

Greeking Out

Greeking Out Rating

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0

Greeking Out reminded me why I love fringe theatre. At its best, fringe is lean and mean, a little scrappy, full of wit and invention and always just outside the norm. Rebecca Perich’s show delivered all of that in spades. This was peak fringe and I loved everything about it.

The premise is deceptively simple: a lecture on Greek mythology, given from a stool with a projector and an easel as props. Yet from that stripped-back set, Perich created an hour of comedy, storytelling and mythological deep-diving that was as enlightening as it was entertaining. The projector doubled as a lecturer’s whiteboard, lighting shifts offered just enough atmosphere and the black cloth-draped brick walls of the pop-up venue made the room feel like the kind of black box theatre where ideas are meant to spark. Even the old school seating added to the classroom vibe. It was, in every sense, authentic fringe.

What struck me most was Perich’s ability to master two seemingly opposite demands: making the audience laugh while also making them think. The show had proper laugh-out-loud moments There were cheeky asides, call-and-response games and even bursts of light choreography that pulled us into her world. But it also had a depth that stayed with me long after. I really loved how Perich didn’t just retell myths. She unpacked their cultural resonance, wove them into pop culture touchpoints and reminded us why these ancient stories still matter. Her skill lay in making the complex simple, without ever dumbing it down.

 

 

Fringe theatre can sometimes alienate, but Perich did the opposite. She met her audience exactly where we were, adapting her pace, her explanations and even her jokes to ensure accessibility. She was like that favourite teacher who can’t help but share their hyperfocus with you, dragging you joyfully into side quests and tangents like the naming of Europe or the complex family tree of Greek gods. These digressions were never wasted, they added texture and charm, much like the best detours on a road trip.

The 60-minute format was exactly right. As one of my favourite theatre sayings goes, “Everything good is better shorter”. Perich clearly understands this. The show was tight, sharp and left me wanting more. By the end, I wasn’t just entertained, I was ready to sign up for Mythology 201.

Rebecca Perich is a gifted storyteller, part comedian and part lecturer, who has found a form that feels utterly her own. She can take a myth thousands of years old and make it feel like gossip you’ve just overheard at the bar. That’s no small feat. Greeking Out was smart, funny and brimming with charm. More importantly, it was a reminder of why myth still holds power in our lives.
I laughed, I learned and I can’t wait for the next class. That’s my takeaway and I suspect anyone lucky enough to see this show will feel the same.

To book tickets to Greeking Out, please visit https://www.melbournefringe.com.au/whats-on/events/greeking-out.

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Colour and Light: The Art of Sondheim

Colour and Light: The Art of Sondheim

Colour and Light: The Art of Sondheim Rating

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6

Buckle in. There is going to be a lot of hyperbole in this review. When something is this good, how else can you describe it?

Colour and Light: The Art of Sondheim, presented by Watch This at Theatre Works, is less a musical revue and more a velvet-draped love letter to the genius of Sondheim. It’s the kind of show that slips under your skin, reshapes your idea of what cabaret can be and sets a new standard for how theatre should be made.

Theatre Works is perfect venue for this show. It balances epic with intimate, using the high ceiling to hang long luscious drapes but keeping the audience close enough that we felt every word on the stage. Designer Rob Sowinski has conjured a stage that feels like a plush, lived-in lounge room (art deco drinks trolley and all) with a circle of tiered staging, bathed in the soft glow of vintage table lamps. It’s intimate and luxurious.

What follows is a breathtaking journey through Sondheim’s songbook. Yes, the big numbers are here, but so are the deep cuts and the “why-don’t-more-people-sing-this?” gems. I’m sure Sondheim diehards will know that he wrote songs for the 1990 film, Dick Tracy, but I had no idea and it was a revelation to hear music from the soundtrack on the stage. The show flows with purpose and precision, thanks to the clean, intelligent direction of Melanie Hillman and Dean Drieberg, whose love of the material radiates through every moment. The loose thematic arc is shaped around Seurat’s artistic principles of Order, Design, Tension, Balance, Harmony. The structure gives the evening clarity without ever feeling constrained or contrived. This is cabaret at its best.

And then there’s the music.

 

 

Dr Trevor Jones, who arranges, musically directs and performs from the piano, is the beating heart at the centre of the piece. His arrangements are stunning. They are lush, showy when needed, simple when called for and always with a focus on the emotional truth of the songs. This is some of the finest musical storytelling I’ve heard on a Melbourne stage and reminds me why, when done well, musical theatre is one of the greatest art forms ever.

Johanna Allen is a master of her craft. Her ability to navigate the razor-thin line between vocal fireworks and emotional restraint is unmatched. She brings a knowingness to the stage that draws the audience in and lets us share the humour and pathos in all of her delivery. There are countless moments she channels such precision and ache that you could feel the entire theatre holding its breath. This is vocal acting of the highest order.

Vidya Makan broke my heart multiple times across the night. There’s an emotional directness to her performance that’s magnetic. Her choices are always fresh, never predictable and she elevates everything she touches with nuance and grace. Her I’m Still Here was a stand out moment in a evening of stand out moments. She gave us an exquisitely rendered journey from introspective calm to triumphant exuberance with countless little gut-punches along the way.

Nick Simpson-Deeks, as ever, delivers with polish and pinpoint clarity. He finds the architecture in each song, builds it, then knocks it down with a smirk or a sigh. It looks effortless, but this has to have been crafted and perfected over years. His Send in the Clowns has ruined every other version for me. Honestly. It needs to be bottled and prescribed to every aspiring performer and every audience member.   It is good for the soul.

Jacob Rozario brings vibrant charisma and thrilling musicality. They shift gears effortlessly from the ridiculous to the sublime and their voice is an instrument of total control and warmth. There wasn’t a moment when their performance wasn’t a captivating blend of playful, detailed and vocally dazzling. His delivery of Can That Boy Foxtrot will stay with me for a long time. 

Colour and Light: The Art of Sondheim elicited a palpable love in the room, not just for Sondheim, but for collaboration, for precision, for joy. The audience left buzzing, visibly moved and audibly delighted. As for me? I’ve already booked to see it again.

This is one of the finest tributes to Sondheim I’ve seen anywhere in the world. Don’t miss it.

To book tickets to Colour and Light: The Art of Sondheim , please visit https://www.theatreworks.org.au/2025/colour-and-light.

Photographer: Ben Fon

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