Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind

30 Neo-Futurist Plays From Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind (30 Plays In 60 Minutes)

30 Neo-Futurist Plays From Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind (30 Plays In 60 Minutes) Rating

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As soon as we walk in, the game begins. The Lost Theatre Co. cast members mill about the theatre and greet us, wearing black T-shirts emblazoned with their (real) first names – Joshua, Lilian, Jacob, Kaia, Noah and Lisa. We each receive a lanyard with a red/green card and a ‘menu’ of thirty short play titles to choose from. The house lights stay up as they get our attention and begin. We have a role, a responsibility and an immediate sense of comradery.

Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind is a proudly absurd meta theatre game. The aim is to perform all thirty plays on the menu within an hour – once the hour is up, that’s all we get; they’ll stop mid-scene if they must. Audience members call out a number to indicate what play we want to see, it’s performed, then it’s on to the next one. It’s the epitome of controlled chaos.

The ensemble’s confidence, chemistry and enthusiasm absolutely carry the show. Even though all the shows are obviously scripted, there’s a constant feeling of spontaneity, like we’ve walked in on actors messing around while on break. This makes it easy to forgive some weaker performances during the micro-plays themselves, though it would’ve been nice to see more range in the genres and characters within the shows. Still, with thirty distinct plays, it’s almost guaranteed nobody will click with everything, and there were definitely more hits than misses.

 

 

It’s difficult to comment on the show’s writing. The plays move so fast and there’s so many of them that to single out anything feels like either nitpicking or a matter of personal taste. Plus, the tone is so silly that deeper analysis of themes almost feels like missing the point. Even so, the whole premise raises interesting questions about what ‘counts’ as theatre and how much or little time you need to tell a story. These ideas are highlighted in how the actors use the set. The lack of costumes, the simple props and set pieces strewn around seemingly at random and the constant timer on the wall counting down the hour deliberately make it difficult to fully focus on the plays. This could be a drawback for some, but I like that Jay Watts’ direction kept us focused on the gamification of it all, constantly drawing attention to how we as an audience had a huge part to play in the fun.

Consent and safety were clearly priorities for the troupe, and it was impressive how seamlessly they incorporated these essentials into the show. The lanyards we were given let us show either a green or red card to indicate if we wanted to be interacted with, and we were assured we could flip the card at any time, even while the actors were speaking to us. This did happen once or twice, and they kept their word, stopping immediately and moving on to somebody else. There were content warnings on the menu, but on the other side from the titles so we could be surprised if we wanted to. The instructions they gave to participants were snappy and clear, and they rolled equally well with awkwardness and enthusiasm from the audience. Overall, it’s probably the best handling of audience interaction that I’ve ever seen; whether your card’s green or red, it’s so fun to watch and play along.

Although we didn’t win the game (we got close but had to stop in the middle of the thirtieth play), there wasn’t any sense of disappointment or missing out. If anything, the lack of closure felt appropriate. If you enjoy the fresh frenetic energy of improv, theatre about theatre and/or being involved in the unfolding action, this is definitely the show for you. And if anything about the audience participation seems daunting, don’t worry. You’re in good hands and no matter which plays you do or don’t see, you’re in for a great time.

To book tickets to 30 Neo-Futurist Plays From Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind (30 Plays In 60 Minutes), please visit https://www.losttheatreco.com/.

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A Twist Of Fate – Season 5

A Twist Of Fate Season 5

A Twist Of Fate Season 5 Rating

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2

I’ve now seen three iterations of Scary Goats Theatre’s A Twist Of Fate series. The conceit – short Twilight Zone-esque plays, each built around a game-changing plot twist – is reliably entertaining and capacious. Every season I’ve seen has had a different tone and a wide range of premises and themes in the showcased plays. And yet, season 5 started with a delightful surprise that nobody in the audience could have expected: a short film.

Not So Black And White is a mixed media pastiche of black-and-white silent films. You’ve seen or are at least aware of the kinds of characters featured. Nelle Nilson is a clever young woman, dainty and desired by her fiancée Steadfast Sam. Her father is a renowned physicist and the villain, Hardluck Harry, hatches a plan to get close to Nelle and steal her father’s work. Stereotypical shenanigans ensue…until they don’t. The slapstick and physicality are comedically stilted in exactly the way you’d expect from silent films, and while the jokes clearly send up the genre, they don’t feel like retreads of other parodies. There are multiple twists in the plot and character arcs, and they each feel jarring in an arresting and calculated way. Chloe Towan wrote, directed, choreographed, shot and edited this show, and she along with the cast have created a fantastic vehicle to show the beauty and flaws in these kinds of stories.

Riding on the high of the first show is We Live To Serve, written by Charlie Simmons. In a future where the earth is near uninhabitable due to extreme heat, two workers – a butler named Calvin and a custodial worker named Alvin – are desperate to get hired on one of the spacecraft leaving the planet. The poor job interviewer has no idea how far the duo’s desperation will push them. The performances from Patrick Slee, Richard Mealiey and Corey M. Glamuzina are great; their characters are loveable, mischievous and easy to empathize with. I also appreciated the commentary on technological dependence and the concept of disposability, as some lines felt downright chilling in the context of the world’s increasing reliance on generative AI. I think this script would have benefitted from a longer runtime, since the context and exposition felt jam-packed and hard to follow at first. Still, it was an enjoyable show with engaging characters and a sweet, hopeful ending.

 

 

The third show, Muffin Day by Richard Mealey, presents a nightmarish Groundhog Day scenario. Ronnie is stuck reliving the worst moment of their life: their death. Over and over, they come into their work at a bank, chat with their bubbly colleague Chris, and get shot by an intruder named Lou looking for revenge. It takes a lot of energy and planning to craft a script like this, where information is slowly drip-fed and elements have to be repeated without getting tedious. Mealey pulls it off perfectly, creating a constant sense of progression and perfectly balancing comedy and tragedy. Developing Chris and Lou more as side characters is a simple yet effective way to subvert this kind of story and foreshadow the twist that comes later. Even if you guess what’s coming, the acting and tone of the payoff makes it both satisfying and harrowing.

The final show, Two Characters In Search Of A Story, is about exactly what is written on the tin. Two characters wake up in a locked room with numerous concealed objects, having no memory of who they are. While transitioning into this show, Towan mentioned that her script was originally going to be saved for a season next year and to be honest, I wonder if that might have been for the better. The two lead performances are strong and full of chemistry, and the way that set pieces were revealed and recontextualized over time was really clever. However, I feel like the title set us up for a more ‘meta’ revelation than the twist turned out to be, and overall, the pacing felt uneven and the emotional arc of the characters didn’t quite sit right with me. Still, many audience members seemed to find it moving, and it was definitely an interesting watch.

A running theme in this season of A Twist Of Fate is breaking expectations. Comedic settings are more multi-dimensional than expected, the assumptions underpinning a familiar premise are knocked out from under it, and characters seek to find their place in their own story. If this reflects what Scary Goats Theatre seeks to do with their work going forward, then I’m sure they are more than capable of rising to the challenges they set themselves. If you haven’t already, definitely come and see at least one season of this show. Whether you guess what’s coming or have your mind blown, you’ll still have a great time with some thoughtful, diverse and entertaining theatre.

To book tickets to A Twist Of Fate Season 5, please visit https://www.eventfinda.com.au/2026/a-twist-of-fate-season-5/melbourne/carlton.

Photographer: Kieran McNamara

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Between The Lines

Between The Lines: The James Joyce-Groucho Marx Letters

Between The Lines: The James Joyce-Groucho Marx Letters Rating

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It feels odd to describe a stage show as ‘literary’ and ‘cinematic’. However, that kind of genre blurring perfectly suits the premise of Between The Lines, a show revolving around letters exchanged between James Joyce and Groucho Marx in 1937. If you aren’t familiar with either man’s work, don’t worry. Bloomsday In Melbourne’s annual play (directed by Renee Palmer) gives you more than enough reason to care about these artists and understand why their work and ideas matter. The show doesn’t only care about the things great men create, but also about who gets to keep their legacies alive.

The aforementioned letters in Between The Lines are uncovered in 1987 by Pandora (Seon Williams), a headstrong PhD graduate with an infectious passion for history. Unfortunately, many barriers stand between her and recognition, such as academic snobbery, uncooperative estates and sexism. She recruits renowned Joyce scholar Murray Dalton (Shannon Woollard) to assist her, but they may not be collaborating on as equal footing as they think. The letters themselves are also revealed, with Joyce (Tref Gare) and Marx (Scott Middleton) revealing more and more personal truths about their families, fears and ideas about art.

The show’s design is what gives it the cinematic feel mentioned earlier. The way Joyce and Marx are lit and placed creates exaggerated shadows and a simultaneous sense of distance and closeness, drawing the eye between them as easily as a panning camera. The costumes are loving send-ups of period fashion that still make their characters look stylish. The classical music score gives a great sense of grandeur, especially in scene transitions, though some of the sound effects (such as the pen scratching when letters were dictated) bordered on being distracting. The overall effect reminds me of ‘dark academia’ with its simultaneous glamorization and critique of the world’s intellectual ivory towers.

 

 

The cast has cultivated performances that fit well in this heightened world of mind games and artistic politicking. Gare and Middleton portray Joyce and Marx fantastically. Their idiosyncratic writing styles feel so natural when spoken aloud, the chemistry is palpable despite them speaking in letters rather than directly to each other, and one of my favourite parts of the show was how they quietly reacted to the 1987 scenes in the background while watching them unfold. Williams and her mother (Christina Costigan) are likeable and play into the script’s tropes well. I felt like I was watching a sitcom during their scenes at times – even at their most serious there was something comforting about them. The same can’t be said for when Pandora gets in the room with Murray. Woollard makes for a perfectly pretentious villain, and it’s satisfying to watch him at both his worst and at his meekest, when Pandora doesn’t let the world revolve around him.

Steve Carey’s writing style is what makes this show somewhat ‘literary’. This shines in the Joyce/Marx scenes, where their dialogue feels period accurate but still distinct, witty and full of pathos when it needed to be. In the more naturalistic scenes set in 1987, the writing felt a bit slower and more laboured, and at points the trivia and backstory the characters went into seemed superfluous. Also, without spoiling it, while the ending was set up well and made sense for the characters, some parts felt implausible and it diminished the impact of some of the play’s more powerful scenes. Nevertheless, I thought the play balanced its tragic and comic moments well and made some clever parallels between scenes in the two time periods to tie everything together.

Every year, June 16th is marked by Bloomsday, a celebration of James Joyce and his work. This show is part of Melbourne’s Bloomsday programming, and it highlights hat Bloomsday isn’t just a day to revere the brilliant work of one great man, but a time to reflect on history. Through a unique writing style, larger-than-life performances and enticing design choices, Between The Lines brings historical characters alive for us to laugh with, empathize with and critically observe. Legacies are created by people, and one message of this show is that more people should be invited to carry the stories we love forward in time. The team behind this show has certainly proved that they’re worthy keepers of their story.

To book tickets to Between The Lines: The James Joyce-Groucho Marx Letters, please visit https://fortyfivedownstairs.com/event/between-the-lines-the-james-joyce-groucho-marx-letters/.

Photographer: Jody Jane Stitt

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The Irreducible

The Irreducible

The Irreducible Rating

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3

After The Irreducible’s curtain call, I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one who stayed seated for a few more minutes, processing what on earth (or beyond it) I’d just watched. The promotional images – a contorted androgynous figure dripping in goo and digital warping – convey more of what the show is than anything I could describe. It’s fifty minutes of…that. And somehow, so much more.

The Irreducible is the brainchild of Cohan, creative director of Blank Space Productions and the show’s director, set designer and sole performer. From the moment the audience walks in, Cohan is surrounded by precarious black beams bathed in green light, some of which support bags and vats of transparent goo. In the best way possible, it looks like the set of an Alien knockoff. Cohan, naked except for a full-face balaclava and a large triangular boot on one foot, explores the space. Without dialogue, context, or even facial expressions for most of the show, what we are left with is an androgynous body navigating a familiarly alien world.

Cohan’s prowess as a physical performer is undeniable; their confidence in climbing the set and the variety in their movements is marvellous to behold. There is also a loose sense of storytelling as we see their creature gradually gain mastery over their environment and unveil more unexpected surprises in the set. There was a sense at some points of the creature moving to hit their marks rather than ending up naturally in certain spots, and the ending felt contrived to get Cohan offstage, but this wasn’t enough to break the methodical pacing. The worldbuilding is complemented by fantastic tech design, with a jarringly glitchy surround-sound score, beautiful use of lighting and the wonderful effect of projections on Cohan’s pale naked skin. The Irreducible may be strange and slow-paced, but it’s never boring, and the climax is well-worth the subtle build-up (hint: a lot of goo is involved).

 

 

But what’s the point of it all? The queerness is undeniable, as the show revolves around a nude non-binary body and many set pieces and moments could be seen as an homage to camp low-budget horror. Theatre Works bills The Irreducible as “[an investigation of] the boundaries between the queer body, the self and object”, and there’s definitely a thrilling contrast between the natural nudity and movements of the central character and the industrial environment it finds itself in. I was personally reminded of the many connections scholars and artists have made between queerness and body horror, as those who feel alienated from their bodies choose to embrace what society deems as monstrous. Once Cohan’s face becomes visible, there is a sublime ecstasy in their expressions that feels both frightening and enticing. The show is called ‘The Irreducible’, which provokes the question: what parts of our experiences can’t be reduced? The body? The self? Feelings of alienation? The world around us? Perhaps all of the above, or anything else you can think of.

Regardless of what you take from it, The Irreducible is a thematically rich show with a lot to admire if not fear. It’s one of those artworks that’s something of a Rorschach test: what you see in it and how you respond may say more about you than the performance itself. All I can say is what I saw, which was an arresting celebration of queer monstrosity. Come for the spectacle, stay for the depth, and take as much time as you need to sit with it all afterwards.

To book tickets to The Irreducible, please visit https://www.theatreworks.org.au/2026/the-irreducible.

Photographer: Dan Rabin

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