As a community theatre director, I often stress the importance of teamwork and that no player reaches their best without the shared journey and uplifting of every member of the cast, often to eye rolls. However, Bipolar Express is a gleaming example of a powerful ensemble who are the backbone and heart of the story. Itâs only now as I sit down to write this, having just read the program, that I ascertained how many creatives were among this ensemble cast including choreographer, Avalon Ormiston, and producer, Phaedra Brown, which doesnât surprise me considering what a stellar example of full-bodied togetherness that this piece is.
Anton played by writer, Bianca Yeung, is on a train to meet an estranged friend when she has a manic episode. The train is depicted with a simple yet vibrant set consisting of three double floodlights, and cane chairs with the iconic Sydney Transit blue squiggly velvet seats. Anton is desperately trying to remain upright as she sends voice-notes to friend, Mish, not knowing if Mish will be meeting her at the other end.
The ensemble weave and move around her, engaging in conversations that begin as small talk and progress into more interesting musings. Anton has a bouquet of orange flowers that become more disheveled as she unravels. They are the motif that anchors the passage of time. The set is changed with rhythm and poetry by the actors throughout the show.
The story moves between the present train delay and the past story of Mish and Anton. We discover that Mish was the keeper of Antonâs secrets, she was the one with the directives for what to do and when, and she was often the keeper of this part of Anton. We see the complications of these assigned roles between the two, and how it impacts their friendship over time.
To describe and adequately give voice and understanding to a complex mental health diagnosis such as Bipolar would be incredibly difficult in words, that is where the powerful art of movement and dance breathtakingly fill in some of those gaps. For example; the ensemble close in around Anton during a portrayal of exhaustion. She tries to creep out, reach out and even tries to free Mish in these moments, but she is unheard as she is swallowed by âThe Othersâ.
Sound and light design take a huge amount of credit as a device in this piece as well. We are stagnant and trapped along with Anton in the darkness and we are pulled into the jubilance of the bright highs punctuated by poppy, boppy, music.
It is abundantly clear this piece has involved all creatives building, supporting and creating deep intimacy, which in turn made it inevitable that the audience become deeply invested and intertwined.
Itâs a bold and breath-taking culmination of art forms that does great justice to shining some light on an important lived experience. I highly recommend supporting this work.
âOnce in a Blue Moon,â created and performed by Tala Issaoui as part of PYT Fairfield at the Sydney Fringe Festival, delivers a brief yet densely layered experience that fuses dance, ritual, and evocative visual storytelling.
Spanning just 30 minutes, Issaouiâs multidisciplinary performance beckons the audience into a shifting world of transformation. Itâs a melancholic trilogy told through patterns, transitions, and potent symbolism.
The work opens with a striking video projection: Issaouiâs dance, rendered in cinematic hues and fluid imagery.
The transitions between film and live presence feel seamless, as the artist materialises onstage before a circular altar adorned with pebbles, an urn, and a pair of goblets.
The artistâs movements around this circle are cyclical and deliberate, blending ritual with choreography in a way that bridges the personal and the universal, with the lights, sound and music complimenting each phase.
Throughout, imagery and symbolism abound; the veil, for instance, which seems to float between meanings, might connote marriage, transformation, or transcendence.
The rhythmic motions, paired with dynamic lighting and a soundscape of often eery music, build tension and drama: thunder and lightning suggest fear and elemental power, while the act of dousing with water feels like a physical release, mourning, or rebirth. Texture becomes tangible as exaggerated makeup begins to spill down Issaouiâs face, accentuating the emotional intensity and the sense of unravelling.
The performerâs precision timing is key, with the crafted sound and lighting cues. These multi-dimensional effects surround the audience with layers of sensation, blurring boundaries between dance, ritual, and visual art.
Patterns repeat and modulate, symbolising repetition and cyclical pain, while the pace of the piece builds into a crescendo of melancholy.
Issaoui is visibly moved by the workâs close, punctuating the experience with authenticity and emotional depth. The ritual ends not with clear answers, but with a shared sense that something profound, if hard to articulate, has transpired.
While âOnce in a Blue Moonâ may not suit every taste, I found myself admiring the precision and vision more than personally connecting with its abstract ethos. It stands as a compelling example of experimental performance in Western Sydney. The blending of film, choreography, sound, and symbolic staging delivers a textured, esoteric meditation on grief, transformation, and spiritual passage. Issaouiâs willingness to traverse the boundaries of art-form and narrative ensures this work is both brave and memorable. I admire and am in awe of the power of the personal artistic risk and wholehearted embodiment.
Recommended for those ready to meaningfully engage with experimental theatre. It is a deep, beautiful, brave and vulnerable piece of performance art.
As someone who has a love for the unusual (think Black Mirror, Supernatural, The X-Files), when this show landed in my inbox, I immediately jumped at the chance to see it. A Twist of Fate was advertised as â4 short plays, 4 devastating twistsâ and I ouldn’t help but wonder if this series of plays lives up to the shows I so loved? Shows that provided such comfort to my younger self?
So, entering the Motley Bauhaus, surrounded by bricks and nestled in an old theatre seat far comfier than those of today, I waited. And in succession I watched Bestow, Mr Moore Wants Less, Mr Id and Possession.
Each of these plays made me either cackle in delight, widen my eyes or, pleasantly, a mixture of both!
Bestow had an infectious sense of comedy, of power, of understanding how to mix both the unusual and the highly relatable into one. I saw myself in all the characters and was totally hooked through each scare and each comedic beat.
Mr Id had more energy than a toddler after 3 lolly bags and I must give a commendation to Liliana Braumberger who played the title character for solidly keeping this energy. This was a play of moral dilemmas, sponsorships (that became increasingly more silly) and heart.
Possession was both innocent and curious, in a way that makes you almost feel pity for the title character. This is, of course, until the end twist. I swear I heard jaws drop to the floor and I really commend Kate Weston on holding the stage presence of the most delightful (and perhaps most twisted) little girl I have ever seen.
However, my favourite of the plays was Mr Moore Wants Less. Each scene, each character, each ridiculous scenario knew how wild it was and revelled in it. It also caused me to think, in the best way possible and genuinely felt both heartwarming and completely bonkers. This is one of my favourite combinations and was beautifully presented on stage.
As the Producer of Scary Goats Theatre, Chloe Towan played host to this tremendous piece of stage work. Towan was invested, intrigued and played the perfect disturbing narrator. It’s also a delight to see a company that works with many people in many roles. No-one really wears one hat. Each person played a significant role (if not multiple roles) in putting on a show that was unsettling, thought provoking and giggle-inducing in writing, acting, directing and more.
This show created not only a sense of community, but also a sense of beauty. And if this is the future of Melbourne Independent Theatre, then I cannot wait to see more. This show knew what it was, how to deliver and how to make the most fun out of it all. So, did it meet my expectations? No, it fully exceeded them. And maybe, just maybe that’s my own Twist of FateâŠ.
This is not your typical Jane Austen show. This is meta chaos.
Act I is what you would expect from anything attached to Jane Austen and the regency era; talks of marriage for both love and gain, a ball (complete with dance), proper introductions being made, and fast proposals. But what happens when the author inserts herself into the story and the characters rebel? Act II is a chaotic ride answering just that ⊠and then some.
Please note I am calling the actors and actresses âperformersâ to avoid any unintentional mis-gendering.
The theatre boasts 120 seats, and at the time of the show starting, I could only spot four empty seats in the U-shaped space. This meant there were plenty of people to distract a performer as they laughed at the well-timed, well-delivered jokes. But the performers were professional, and each of them lost within the scene, not appearing to ever notice the loud, or occasionally scattered, laughter.
The stage was deep, but it was not of a typical size or shape. Performers were sometimes standing less than a metre in front of the front row audience, providing an immersive experience for all involved. This U-shape was paired with a second-storey balcony stage, only a few metres deep and appearing as part of the stage structure if you didnât know any better. The few rows of stairs and the walkways surrounding the seating area were included as part of the stage a few times. Personally, I wish they couldâve had more opportunities from the script to use the walkways and stairs; the creative use elevated and enhanced the experience.
Being U-shaped was also a downfall for the performers. It can be challenging enough for a performer on stage not to turn their back on the audience, but in this instance, it often couldnât be helped. Parts of the audience missed out on the comical reactions, the subtle and not-so-subtle facial expressions, and even important prop sightings. It was infrequent, but some moments were stagnant, with performers seeming to forget half the audience was behind them (yes, this did happen on purpose a few times, and it was well blocked for those particular scenes), and I could see audience members straining to spot the speaker. The first interaction between the author, Laura, and our lead, Emma, was alive and energetic, covering the stage and including everyone around them. Understandably, thereâs only so much you can do with a space such as this one, and this was the only downfall of the performance that this author noticed. I feel it is important to note that even if the performerâs back was turned, at no point did I struggle to hear or understand what was being said; every performer had a clear voice and pronunciation, even if their characters ran their words together.
In saying that, the cast acted and reacted with and to one another spectacularly. If there were a crowd in the background they brought the foreground scene to life with murmurings, rustles, and reactions to the main speaker. Carefully choreographed scenes were executed so in sync that it seemed natural. They brought not only spoken comedy, but also a varying amount of slapstick and physical comedy to keep the audience on their metaphorical toes.
Helping to keep the audience on their toes were the set changes. While each set was minimalist, stagehands werenât the ones changing the sets; rather, the performers were. While this was done well, and background noise over the speakers guided the audience into a scene change, some scenes changed so rapidly that it took a moment to catch up. While this worked with the script, when you arenât expecting it to happen in this style, it can be jarring to begin with. The lighting is perfect for the story, and has few large changes, aside from some spotlights and some coloured choices in the second act, but does little to guide the audience through a set change. As an audience member, we must remember that while Jane Austen would never allow a well-bred member of society to carry their own chair, the meta version of these characters certainly donât mind.
The costumes were beautifully regency era, and aside from the Redcoats, each character was sporting different colours and accessories to stand out to the crowd. If you arenât familiar with the characters these costumes were incredibly helpful in keeping up with who was who. There were minimal costume changes, but the big ones that werenât pointed out by the performers felt like easter eggs for the audience ⊠one or two of the dresses even had pockets! The costumes represented the social standing of each character with elegance, tassels, careful embroidery, and well-chosen shoes.
As for the characters ⊠I am hesitant to say too much and risk ruining anything for the readers. Be prepared to laugh, gasp, sigh, and maybe get a little teary. See the Watson family, in real time, lose some, win some, become appalled, find love, and even lust. Observe the Osborne family derail themselves to become the more interesting, more fulfilling versions of themselves. See side characters take a stand to be more involved in the story, or demand they get to grow and learn their endings; watch a cad find his way in the world; find out that the Redcoats have names; and try to spot Nanny polishing silverware for almost an entire scene.
In summary, everything has been thought of to reflect the (multiple) existential crises happening before you. I found each performer to be captivating, without stealing the spotlight from other cast members â even with some of those spectacular sideburns. Act II has more modern vernacular and is slightly crude (there are content warnings in the programs you can purchase at the ticket booth), but is tastefully done, for the most part. This is meta, this is fourth wall breaking, this is not always polite society, but it is laughing at itself and having fun.
I will say, I feel that one content warning is missing: If you are a writer, be prepared to potentially feel personally victimised by some of Lauraâs lines about why writers write.
All in all, the performance begs you to find the answer to the question, âIs that very Jane Austen?â
