How can the internet be depicted in other art forms? Many directors and writers across various mediums have tried to showcase the intangible world that most of us live our lives in. Unfortunately, there’s a lot of ways in which these kinds of stories can go wrong; a lack of empathy for particular communities, overly complicated visual metaphors, a reliance on outdated memes and references – the list goes on.
Blackpill: Redux avoids all these pitfalls. This remounting of the 2025 Theatreworks/Paracosm show, written and directed by Chris Patrick Hansen, combines razor-sharp writing, bleak stage design and intricately unnerving performances to create a scintillating dissection of incel culture and the men who fall into its black holes.
Eli (Oliver Tapp) is a self-admitted loser who’s been fired from his job for reasons he is suspiciously cagey about. He’s stuck with no money, no family or friends he can confide in, a desire to make something of his life and a lot of time to spend on his phone. If you’re familiar with stories about ‘the alt-right pipeline’, ‘the manosphere’ and ‘incels’, you can probably see where this train is going. If you aren’t, you can witness his journey from fitness gurus to ‘edgy’ Instagram group chats to voice calls discussing sexual fantasies and male loneliness, down and down and down. Either way, just like a trainwreck, you won’t be able to look away.
It’s clear that Hansen has done an unenviable amount of research into these corners of the internet. It’s all very well to gawk at and shame the flagrant misogyny on display, but Blackpill: Redux goes several steps further by showing in detail how an ‘everyman’ can be seduced by promises of community, justice and self-improvement. There’s a looming loneliness in almost every character, and the grooming mechanisms they practice and fall for (often at the same time) are so clear yet well-paced enough to be believably enticing. The ending (without spoiling it) in particular guides the audience into understanding these men and empathizing with their emotions, without excusing his actions and the damage they’ve caused.
The set is a grey box of platforms dominated by a hexagonal screen and LED-lit wire fragments hanging from the ceiling. It looks like an abandoned spacecraft, and when text and images are shown on the screen, they are devoured by glitchy rotting. The sound design is booming and abrasive, creating a frightening, gloomy and expansive world. At the same time, one of the best things about Blackpill: Redux is that it doesn’t take itself too seriously. The dozen-strong cast are all incredible physical actors and this is often played for laughs, with ridiculous movement sequences depicting common internet memes, cliches in Hugh Grant movies and the stereotypes Eli learns to project onto the people in his life. This show has a very dark sense of humour and knows exactly how to wield it, often making references to internet culture that feel ‘of a time’ but not stuck in an outdated moment.
I’m fascinated that a show about something as nebulous and complicated as online indoctrination could be this physical and raw. The amount of heart, intelligence, wit and pathos in it is incredible to behold, and I couldn’t recommend it more. Check it out while you still can – you’ll be thinking and talking about it for a long time afterwards.
To book tickets to Blackpill: Redux, please visit https://www.theatreworks.org.au/2026/blackpill-redux.
Photographer: Sarah Clarke
