The Weathering

The Weathering

The Weathering Rating

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7

The Weathering is an extraordinary fusion of movement, sound, projection, and puppetry, a bold new work from Fusion Theatre’s inclusive ensemble that resonates long after the final moment fades into darkness. Directed by Darcy McGaw and Jo Raphael, this poetic and deeply human production transforms the urgent realities of climate change into a visceral, sensory experience.

From the first moments, the performers command the stage through their physicality. Their bodies become landscapes, trembling trees, surging waves, shifting winds — embodying both the fragility and ferocity of a planet under pressure. The use of light and darkness creates a haunting rhythm, as projections wash across the stage like passing weather fronts. At times, the performers seem to dissolve into these shifting visuals, blurring the line between human and environment.

The original soundscape adds another layer of emotional texture. Whispers of rain, the low rumble of thunder, and fragments of breath and song create a world that feels at once intimate and immense. The puppetry, too, is quietly powerful — delicate yet evocative, revealing the interconnection between people and nature in ways words alone could never capture.

 

 

What makes The Weathering so compelling is the way it seems to capture opposing forces in its grip. It holds space for both helplessness and hope, for the chaos of the storm and the calm that follows. The pacing shifts fluidly between frenzy and stillness, echoing the unpredictable rhythms of the natural world. There are moments of silence that feel deafening, and bursts of movement that feel like the earth itself is speaking.

At its core, this is a show with immense heart. It gives voice to those who are too often excluded from conversations about the climate crisis — voices that are essential, urgent, and profoundly moving. The ensemble’s commitment shines through every gesture, every sound, every flicker of light.

McGaw and Raphael have crafted a work that feels both timely and timeless. The Weathering doesn’t just ask us to think about the world we’re losing — it invites us to feel it, to grieve it, and ultimately, to imagine how we might begin again.

To book tickets to The Weathering , please visit https://www.theatreworks.org.au/2025/the-weathering.

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Brothers Bare

Brothers Bare

Brothers Bare Rating

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2

Tucked away in Theatreworks’ blink-and-you’ll-miss-it supplemental venue, the aptly named Explosives Factory, ā€œBrothers Bareā€ explodes with creativity, menace, and an unnerving relevance. This darkly comic, sharply observant production takes the fertile soil of Brothers Grimm folklore and replants it in the uneasy terrain of modern life — specifically, the digital dating world, social media perfectionism, and the real-life horror of hidden agendas. It’s as confronting as it is captivating.

Written by Jessica Fallico and Iley Jones, the play takes classic nursery rhymes and fables — often sanitized for contemporary children — and strips them back to their grim roots, before repurposing them as cautionary tales for today’s world. The result is an inventive and affecting piece of theatre that blends rhyming prose, movement, and shadow puppetry in ways that surprised and disarmed the audience.

The space itself — small, industrial, and intimate — works to the show’s advantage. There’s something unnerving about being so physically close to the action, especially in a production so focused on exposing the hidden terrors of seemingly safe, everyday situations. It amplifies the tension and vulnerability on stage and makes the audience complicit in the dark journey unfolding.

The ensemble — Grace Gemmell, Elisheva Biernoff-Giles, Charlie Veitch, and Dion Zapantis — is formidable. Each performer brings a distinct intensity to their roles, switching between characters and archetypes with remarkable fluidity and precision. Whether embodying twisted versions of familiar childhood figures or portraying modern personas lost in digital disconnection, their performances are sharp, committed, and often deeply unsettling. It’s rare to see such consistency in an ensemble cast — each actor not only held their own but elevated one another in moments of shared stage time.

 

 

Choreographer Cameron Boxall deserves special mention for crafting sequences that punctuate the narrative with physical storytelling that is both poignant and restrained. Movement here isn’t ornamental; it deepens the emotional and thematic weight of the show. One particular sequence, exploring the disintegration of identity through curated online personas, was particularly memorable — beautifully composed, visually haunting, and emotionally resonant.

The use of shadow puppetry is another triumph. Rather than gimmickry, the technique is deployed with precision and purpose, often representing the lurking fears and dark fantasies that exist beneath the surface of our everyday lives. These moments — brief, almost ephemeral — leave a lasting impact, suggesting more than they show and allowing the audience’s imagination to fill in the gaps with dread.

What elevates ā€œBrothers Bareā€ beyond clever concept is its unwavering commitment to its message. Rather than lecturing us, it seduces the audience into familiarity before pulling the rug out. This is theatre that plays with expectations — and with its audience — to make us question the safety of the stories we grew up with and the realities we now inhabit.

Despite its modest setting, this is a production with big ambitions. Its themes are bold, intellectually sharp, and emotionally potent. The fusion of form and content — from the lyrical script to the expressive choreography and visual flair — is remarkably cohesive, making for a rich, multi-sensory theatrical experience.

As a highlight of this year’s Fringe Festival, ā€œBrothers Bareā€ proves that some of the most powerful theatre can emerge from the smallest of spaces. With its relevant themes, inventive execution, and standout performances, it wouldn’t be surprising to see this production return — and on much larger stages. It’s a haunting, timely reminder that the scariest monsters are no longer in the woods, but often behind screens or waiting with open arms and hidden intentions.

Don’t blink — you’ll want to remember “Brothers Bare”.

To book tickets to Brothers Bare, please visit https://www.melbournefringe.com.au/whats-on/events/brothers-bare.

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Horse Girls

Horse Girls

Horse Girls Rating

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5

Horse Girls follows a group of tweens who make up the passionate and prestigious Lady Jean Ladies, a dedicated group to all things horses. Lead by the aggressive alpha dog (or horse) Ashleigh (played by Tamzen Hayes) this club, bursting with different personalities, holds their regular weekly meeting that quickly descends in chaotic madness.

Horse girls is a dramatic and fast paced dark comedy, with sharp writing (by Jenny Rachel Weiner) and brilliantly choreographed and directed physical humour (direction by Eugenie Muggleton). This show is camp and silly, a perfect morsel of female adolescences wrapped in a violent twist. The audience is introduced to the club by Camille (Candice Leask), the promiscuous caricature of the group, through the eyes of her newcomer cousin Trish (Mish Keating). Camille quickly explains each girls’ role in the club to Trish, acting as a character guide for the audience.

The Lady Jean Ladies are stupid as only teen girls can be, leading to hilarity and at times surprising depth and gravitas. It was an interesting experience watching young ladies be so naĆÆve and silly, but in that naivety, they were able to express genuine and universal feelings of grief and loneliness. Weiner was able to capture a glimpse of what we all experience through the outrageously loud camp concepts of this show.

 

 

The chemistry and social hierarchy within this ensemble is perfectly balanced. The balance of the relationships allows for on point comedic timing and delivery, cementing the cringe core status of this show. This peaks during the horse song, which, oh wow, contained choreography that teenage me would be so jealous and proud of. The performance in its entirety was acutely accurate and hilarious.

In an attempt to calm the group, the girls try to reach Anne Romney for advice. After the show I conducted my own search on google, it was confirmed that this is the wife of Massachusetts Governor Mitt Romney, and a big equestrian enthusiast. The girls were unsuccessful in contacting Anne, and as a result their connections with each other proceeded to quickly break down into violent discourse. The teetering balance of power ruptured, causing chasms in the group.

Horse Girls embodied the savage way teen girls love and hate. The Lady Jean Ladies Club reflected the passion of my adolescence, with a smattering more drama and violence. This show got audiences continuously laughing for the first 80% of the show, and mouths agape for the final 20%. The passion of the cast was genuine and infectious, I feel like I now need to be careful how I approach any horse enthusiasts.

To book tickets to Horse Girls, please visit https://www.theatreworks.org.au/2025/horse-girls.

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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 ā€œwhy-don’t-more-people-sing-this?ā€ 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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