Anastassia Gerakas🥈

Author badges: 🥈 Silver Reviewer (26 reviews) She is a woman with a keen eye for the details that others might miss. She doesn’t just watch the show—she inhabits it. With an extensive career spanning decades in media, television, and live broadcast, her perspective is informed by experience and sharpened by the spotlight itself. Once, she dabbled in the world of acting and theater—taking the stage and testing her own mettle in the most demanding of roles. But it’s not the curtain call that drives her anymore. Her insight is built on years of navigating the complexities of live production, the pulse of a newsroom, and the raw energy of the stage. But don’t expect her to tell you everything. No, her reviews leave a little room for mystery—because she knows the true nature of art is that which can’t always be pinned down. You never know, you might happen to find her sitting in the front row of your next production.

Duruflé’s Requiem And Poulenc’s Gloria

17/05/202617/05/2026 Anastassia Gerakas🥈

Duruflé’s Requiem And Poulenc’s Gloria Rating

★★★★★

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Today, on a glorious Saturday, the audience at the Sydney Opera House was treated to a magnificent concert featuring Maurice Duruflé’s ‘Requiem’ — first performed in Paris in 1947 — alongside Francis Poulenc’s ‘Gloria’. Representing a bridge across time, the concert offered extraordinary choral performances filled with beauty, spirituality, and emotional depth.

Completing the program was the world premiere of ‘Time’s Fell Hand’ by Carl Vine choral piece, which injected a distinctly Australian flavour into the French compositions of Duruflé and Poulenc. Together, the works took the audience on a remarkable journey of colour and harmony, calm reflection, and contemplation.

We were dazzled by the unexpectedly large choir — close to 500 performers — whose extraordinary vocal blend created an astonishing combination of tones and textures. The sheer scale of the ensemble was breathtaking, yet its sound remained balanced, nuanced, and deeply moving.

The opening carried an elegant stillness, overlaid with worshipful and spiritual sounds. It evoked a beautiful mix of church-like hymns and reverent chants, immediately creating an atmosphere of reflection. Duruflé’s Requiem, supported by orchestral textures within the sound design, felt both intimate and expansive. The entry of the Opera House organ added further depth, creating a rich soundscape of extraordinary resonance.

The five vocal sections — bass, baritone, alto, mezzo-soprano, and soprano — worked collaboratively, creating a beautifully unified and layered performance. A particular delight was the harp, played exquisitely, its sound like delicate stitches woven into an intricate musical tapestry.

The soloists, each brought distinctive voices, perfectly matched to the score. Samuel Dale Johnson opened a new door to musical expression with his beautifully delivered performance. Already recognized as one of today’s leading young baritones, with extensive performances across Europe, he brought depth and refinement to the role.

Award-winning mezzo-soprano Helen Sherman infused the music with richly textured mid-range warmth, delivering a performance of rare beauty and sensitivity.

Puerto Rican-born, Sydney-based soprano Meechot Marrero dazzled the audience with finely controlled tonality, never overpowering the composition but always enhancing both choir and orchestra. Her international career has taken her across Europe, the United States, the United Kingdom, and South America, performing in productions including ‘The Magic Flute’, ‘Turandot’, and ‘Candide’. Her final delivery of “Amen” was utterly mesmerizing.

Conductor Elizabeth Scott demonstrated remarkable skill in leading the orchestra, organ, choir, and soloists with precision, grace, and sensitivity.

The finale of Poulenc’s ‘Gloria’ left the audience with a profound sense of spiritual inspiration and emotional uplift.
An unforgettable performance indeed.

To book tickets to Duruflé’s Requiem And Poulenc’s Gloria, please visit https://www.sydneyphilharmonia.com.au/events/durufles-requiem-poulencs-gloria/.

Photographer: Keith Saunders

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Gloria!

09/03/2026 Anastassia Gerakas🥈

Gloria! Rating

★★★★★

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The mere mention of Antonio Vivaldi, Johann Sebastian Bach, and George Frideric Handel is enough to quicken the pulse of any classical music lover. Hearing their works performed together feels rather like being presented with an exquisite three-course meal: a rich entrée, a deeply satisfying main, and an indulgent dessert. It was therefore a fitting and inspired program to launch the 2026 season of the Sydney Philharmonia Choirs, performed against the harbour backdrop of Walsh Bay Arts Precinct.

The evening opened with a theatrical gesture that immediately captured the imagination. Rather than appearing en masse on stage, the singers began dispersed among the audience, their voices rising gently from different corners of the hall. The sound emerged almost like a whisper—soft, tentative, and intimate. As the choristers slowly began walking toward the stage, their collective sound grew in strength and cohesion, gradually filling the space with an enveloping resonance. What began as a delicate murmur evolved into a powerful wave of harmony. The effect was both startling and deeply moving, a reminder that great choral music is as much about atmosphere and storytelling as it is about notes on a page.

At the heart of the program was ‘Gloria in D major’ by Antonio Vivaldi, a work whose brilliance has long secured its place among the most beloved pieces of sacred music. From its jubilant opening to its contemplative inner movements, the music seems almost to lift the listener from their seat. There is a buoyancy in the writing that carries the voices upward, while the orchestra provides a radiant foundation beneath. Even for those unfamiliar with the Latin text, the emotional clarity of the music is unmistakable. It feels like a universal prayer—an appeal for peace, beauty, and hope—resonating with particular poignancy in our unsettled modern world.

The program then turned inward with ‘Weinen, Klagen, Sorgen, Zagen’ by Johann Sebastian Bach. In contrast to Vivaldi’s luminous exuberance, Bach’s cantata unfolds with profound introspection. The music seems to explore the fragile landscape of human emotion—grief, anxiety, and quiet endurance—yet always with the suggestion of solace just beyond the shadows. Bach’s gift lies in his ability to transform personal anguish into something transcendent, and here the choir and orchestra captured that delicate balance beautifully.

The concert concluded with the dramatic sweep of ‘Dixit Dominus’ by George Frideric Handel, a work written when the composer was still in his twenties but already brimming with confidence and invention. At times, echoes of Vivaldi’s rhythmic vitality could be heard, particularly in the vibrant interplay between the five soloists and the full chorus. Yet Handel’s unmistakable theatrical flair also emerged, with sudden contrasts of mood, tempo, and texture creating moments of thrilling unpredictability. The piece crackled with energy, bringing the evening to an electrifying close.

It is astonishing to reflect that each of these monumental works was originally written for the church, conceived not for the concert hall but for sacred spaces and liturgical devotion.

At the centre of it all stood conductor Brett Weymark, whose presence was nothing short of essential. With a seemingly effortless command, he shaped the music with the finesse of a magician, drawing orchestra and choir together into a single shimmering tapestry of sound.

Among the soloists, sopranos Lauren Lodge‑Campbell and Angela Brun delivered performances of remarkable clarity and poise. Yet it was mezzo-soprano Hannah Forester whose voice truly stole the breath from the room, its richness and expressive depth leaving a lasting impression.

By the evening’s end, there was a palpable sense that the audience had experienced something together—something beyond mere performance. Through music, they had collectively travelled through joy, sorrow, hope, and wonder. It was a powerful reminder of why live music remains one of the most profound shared experiences we can have.

To book tickets to Gloria!, please visit https://www.sydneyphilharmonia.com.au/events/gloria/.

Photographer: Keith Saunders

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Exit Laughing

09/03/202607/03/2026 Anastassia Gerakas🥈

Exit Laughing Rating

★★★★★

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There are plays that make you laugh, plays that make you cry, and then there are plays that quietly sneak up on you and remind you that life is happening right now. Watching ‘Exit Laughing’ feels a little like attending the obituary of a woman who refused to leave the table before the last hand was played. Not a solemn obituary, of course—but one written in laughter, cake crumbs, and the shuffle of bridge cards.

For thirty years, Mary’s greatest adventure was her weekly bridge night with “the girls.” In the grand ledger of life, perhaps that sounds small. But for Connie, Leona, Millie, and Mary—four Southern ladies from Birmingham—it was ritual, friendship, and the quiet glue that held the years together. So when Mary dies rather inconveniently before the next scheduled game, the surviving trio does what any respectable, bridge-loving friends might do: they “borrow” her ashes from the funeral home and bring her along for one final night of cards.

From that moment on, the play unfolds like a mischievous wake—one where the guest of honor is present in an urn and the night spirals gloriously out of control. What begins in melancholy quickly turns into an evening of surprises. It is ridiculous in the best theatrical sense: a celebration of life disguised as chaos.

Originally staged at the historic Landers Theatre by the Springfield Little Theatre, the production famously broke the theater’s fifty-year record for tickets sold, playing to standing-room-only audiences and becoming the most popular non-musical in the theatre’s century-long history. It is not difficult to see why. The play carries a universal message wrapped in laughter: it is never too late—or too early—to seize the day.

The recent production at Hunters Hill Theatre, directed by Annette Van Roden, captures this spirit beautifully. Van Roden’s direction keeps the pacing lively while allowing the emotional moments to breathe. She has clearly chosen her cast with care, creating an ensemble that feels authentic, warm, and delightfully human.

Among the cast, Penny Church’s Millie stands out as a particularly charming presence—eccentric, slightly unhinged, but utterly lovable. Her performance captures the play’s essence: that life, even in its later chapters, can still be wild, surprising, and full of joy.

By the end, the audience leaves with what might best be described as a warm aftertaste—a smile lingering long after the curtain falls. In the end, Exit Laughing is less a comedy about death and more an obituary for a life lived too cautiously. Mary’s final hand reminds us all that the game isn’t over yet—and that the best move might simply be to laugh and play on. ♠️♥️♣️♦️

To book tickets to Exit Laughing, please visit https://www.huntershilltheatre.com.au/.

Photographer: Daniel Ferris

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A Mirror

27/02/2026 Anastassia Gerakas🥈

A Mirror Rating

★★★★★

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As you enter the theatre for ‘A Mirror’, it feels less like attending a play and more like arriving at a celebration. The foyer hums with anticipation. Ushers hand you a wedding programme, neatly printed with the order of events, inviting you to witness a union. It is a charming touch—until you turn the paper over. There, instead of a sentimental note, is a stark Oath of Allegiance to the Motherland. The shift is immediate and unsettling. You take your seat—slightly more uncomfortable than expected—and as the festivities begin, you sense that you are not merely watching a wedding. You are being watched yourself.

From the outset, Holcroft’s play establishes a world chillingly reminiscent of George Orwell’s ‘1984’. The auditorium becomes part of the dystopia. Eyes seem to linger too long. Applause feels monitored. In this society, a misstep, a wrong look, an insufficiently enthusiastic smile—any of these could betray you. The atmosphere is thick with suspicion.

The wedding that frames the narrative is a masterstroke of theatrical irony. Traditionally a symbol of joy and new beginnings, here it is a hollow performance: a carefully constructed fiction designed to appease the authorities. Beneath rehearsed vows and forced laughter lies desperation. The ceremony becomes a metaphor for the wider social order—an elaborate façade maintained for survival. Love is secondary; compliance is everything.

As the story unfolds, we are drawn into the lives of writers coerced into producing patriotic fabrications. They are tasked with rewriting history, inventing heroes, and manufacturing narratives that glorify the regime. Their creativity, once a source of meaning, becomes an instrument of oppression. Through intimidation and propaganda, they are compelled to betray not only the truth but also themselves. Holcroft incisively explores how authoritarian systems corrupt the act of storytelling, transforming art into ammunition.

Yet the weight of the subject matter, combined with the absence of an intermission, makes the production feel deliberately relentless. There is no pause for reflection, no moment to breathe. While this structural choice reinforces the suffocating atmosphere of the regime, it also renders the experience slow at times, even long. The unbroken intensity mirrors the characters’ entrapment, asking the audience to endure the same sustained pressure.

When the lights dim, the impact lingers. The play offers no easy catharsis, no triumphant overthrow. Instead, it leaves the audience with a question that echoes long after departure: would you speak the truth if the price were injury, imprisonment, even death?

In its bitterness, the play achieves a powerful moral clarity. It compels compassion, provokes self‑examination, and reminds us that while regimes built on lies may feel immovable, they persist only as long as individuals choose silence over courage. The truth may not always triumph—but as long as there are people willing to tell it, even at great cost, it can.

To book tickets to A Mirror, please visit https://belvoir.com.au/productions/a-mirror/.

Photographer: Brett Boardman

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