Tea Tree Players Presents Shirley Valentine

Tea Tree Players Presents Shirley Valentine

Tea Tree Players Presents Shirley Valentine Rating

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Under the direction of Robert Andrews, Shirley Valentine took centre stage at Tea Tree Players in a truly triumphant fashion. This beloved and enduring classic was brought to life with extraordinary heart and authenticity, spearheaded by the talented Theresa (Lilly) Dolman in the titular role. From the very first moment, Dolman captured the audience’s hearts with her warmth, wit, and masterful storytelling, taking them on an emotional and deeply relatable journey of self-discovery, courage, and transformation.

The play’s universal themes resonate as powerfully today as they did nearly 40 years ago. It’s a story that speaks to anyone who has ever felt trapped in the monotony of routine, longing to rediscover their passions and reclaim their own narrative. The audience was immediately swept up in Shirley’s world—her frustrations, her humour, and ultimately, her awakening. As Shirley bravely stepped out of her comfort zone, laughter rippled through the crowd at her sharp and insightful observations, only to be followed by poignant moments that prompted quiet reflection. One of the play’s most striking lines, “Some people are dead before they die,” hung in the air, leaving a lasting impact.

The set design was deceptively simple yet wonderfully effective, seamlessly transitioning between the confines of Shirley’s dreary kitchen and the liberating beauty of the Mediterranean. This striking contrast visually underscored Shirley’s own evolution, highlighting the journey from stagnation to renewal. The creative team deserves immense credit for bringing such an evocative transformation to the stage.

 

Dolman’s performance was sensational, she embodied Shirley Valentine with such sincerity and charisma that it felt as though she was speaking directly to each audience member, drawing them in with every word, every sigh, every knowing glance. Her comedic timing was impeccable, ensuring plenty of laughter, but it was her ability to convey Shirley’s vulnerability and strength that truly made the performance unforgettable. By the final act, the audience wasn’t just watching Shirley’s story—they were living it alongside her, feeling every ounce of her hesitation, her excitement, and ultimately, her triumph.

A packed house bore witness to this spectacular production, and judging by the applause and emotional responses, it’s safe to say Shirley Valentine at Tea Tree Players is definitely worth a visit. It was a performance that entertained, inspired, and perhaps even encouraged some to dust off their own forgotten dreams. If ever there was a play that reminds us to take that leap of faith and embrace life’s endless possibilities, this was it.

To book tickets to Tea Tree Players Presents Shirley Valentine, please visit https://teatreeplayers.com/production/shirley-valentine/

This review also appears on It’s On The House. Check out more reviews at Whats The Show to see what else is on in your town.

Egg, Chips, and a Side of Self-Discovery

Shirley Valentine

Shirley Valentine Rating

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As someone who adored the original Shirley Valentine film starring Pauline Collins, I was skeptical of ex-Neighbours actors/pop stars making the leap to serious theatre, and has a deep intolerance for people who butcher any accent from my homeland, (but especially one as unique as Liverpudlian), I entered this performance fully prepared to be critical.

Willy Russell’s iconic story first won hearts as a stage play before the beloved film cemented its place in the lives of middle-aged women everywhere in the late 80s. At its core, Shirley Valentine is the tale of a woman suffocating in the monotony of a life that has drained her of identity and joy. Trapped in a world where her only confidante is her kitchen wall, Shirley exists in quiet desperation—serving an ungrateful husband, appeasing selfish grown children, and mourning the rebellious, spirited woman she once was.

 

As the familiar strains of the 80s hits fade, Natalie Bassingthwaite sighs onto the stage, gulping white wine and chopping potatoes for her husband, Joe—who will, she assures us, “have a right gob on him” when he realises dinner is egg and chips instead of his usual Tuesday mince. Despite all my reservations, Natalie doesn’t just step into Shirley’s shoes—she revives her, fully embodied, in bleached mum jeans and a comfy pink sweater. Every weary movement between the fridge, the bench, and the stove tells the nuanced story of a woman who has slowly lost herself. Lamenting that she allowed herself “to lead this little life, when inside me there was so much more.” It’s a portrayal that resonates deeply, particularly with an audience of largely midlife women who, in one way or another, perhaps recognise their own fading dreams in Shirley’s quiet grief and who are just as afraid of dying with their music still in them.

Shirley is captivating—raw but never indulgent, resigned yet still tinged with hope. She draws us in with wry humour, reminiscing about her rebellious school days and the classmates she once envied, only to realise they now envy her—or at least, the woman she used to be. When, in between comparing marriage to the Middle East and sex to supermarkets, she nervously reveals that her friend Jane has invited her to Greece (has bought her a ticket, no less), we feel the impossible weight of the decision. The airline ticket trembles in her hands as she dares to dream of sitting with the sun on her face, drinking “a glass of wine in a country where the grape’s grown.” Yet even as she visibly aches for escape, for the possibility of something to shake her out of her never-changing world, she continues preparing a dinner Joe will never eat.

 

Bassingthwaite’s performance is nothing short of revelatory. Her Liverpudlian accent—much to my relief—is acceptably solid, despite the odd line fluff. Indeed, she disappears so entirely into the role that her popstar past is all but forgotten. But it is in the second half that her transformation truly shines. As the lights go up on a tanned, relaxed Shirley, Bassingthwaite reveals a woman that is no longer the same. A woman no longer crushed by monotony, who had to anxiously force herself onto a plane. This is a Shirley who is self-assured, present, and forever changed—not because of an affair or a holiday romance, but because, at last, she has chosen to explore all the ‘unlived life’ remaining within herself. She has, at last, chosen herself.

This is Shirley Valentine in all its bittersweet brilliance. A triumphant performance, beautifully staged, and an absolute pleasure to witness.

To book tickets to Shirley Valentine, please visit https://shirleyvalentine.com.au/.

This review also appears on It’s On The House. Check out more reviews at Whats The Show to see what else is on in your town.

Improbable Fiction: A Comedic Delight

Improbable Fiction

Improbable Fiction Rating

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There’s something specifically delightful about a farce with a lot of heart. Castle Hill Player’s production of Alan Ayckbourn’s ’Improbable Fiction’ has a charming ensemble cast, a Shakespearean change-maker of a storm, and several comic surprises that had the house in stitches.

Jem Rowe is warm and funny as our anchoring host Arnold Hassock. The characters he welcomes to the house he shares with his aging mother bemuse and enthral him (and the audience) in turn. This is a show for you if you’re interested in writing and the oddball folks who do it.

Abby Bishop’s set, in concert with Mark Dawson’s lighting design, is incredibly effective and is the key support for good actors working with a good script. They’ve created a little world that it was a delight to fall into for the night, and Alan Ayckbourn’s skill with words is shepherded effectively by director Dave Went.

Leone Sharp’s costume design is excellent, and the pace of some of the changes was very impressive. Each detail gave richness to the whirl of the second act. Some of the prop work drew gasps and cheers from the audience and facilitatedsome of the big surprises and delights across the show.

 

The second act swings at quite a different pace to the first and gives the ensemble more space to stretch their muscles. Anthea Brown is a comic highlight throughout, and the whole cast embodies Gina Willison’s choreography with verve. Brendan Iddles enters last in the first act, and has some of the stand-out moments in the second; his transformations are some of the most striking. Will Shipp drew out some of the most vocal audience responses, and Lauren Asten-Smith’s characters (and late second act reveal) were all some of the strongest emotionally connected moments in the scheme of the comedy of the show.

George Cartledge’s sound design is, like the set, effective and integrated, with musical moments and audio gags all landing. The storm he created was one of the key elements of the plot, and the design and delivery was seamless. The mood-setting musical moments were effective enough to situate you instantly without feeling repetitious, and Jem Rowe was particularly good at working with them to carry the audience along through all the different twists and turns of the show.

 

For this reviewer, the second act was the highlight, but all the threads that ran through from first-act conversations really did add to the story. There’s a lot to love and laugh along with in this show, and the cast and crew have put on a lovely production of a fun piece. There is more wordplay the more you look, and plenty of clowning and character comedy besides, so I would recommend catching this show while it’s on.

To book tickets to Improbable Fiction, please visit https://paviliontheatre.org.au/improbable-fiction/

This review also appears on It’s On The House. Check out more reviews at Whats The Show to see what else is on in your town.

Between Past and Present: A Slow-Burn to Nowhere

Three Sisters

Three Sisters Rating

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If procrastination were an art form, the Prozorov sisters would be its masters. Their existential crisis is a painful blend of paralysing indecision and brutal self-reproach—an expression of how exasperating people become when deprived of a meaningful purpose. How many of us hover in limbo, caught between desire and action, never quite taking the leap?

Olga, Masha, and Irina, three sisters trapped in a small town, yearn for the excitement and fulfilment they believe awaits them in Moscow. As they navigate their personal crises, unfulfilled desires, and complex relationships, their dreams remain elusive. Chekhov’s audiences either revel in his brilliance, grow frustrated by the lack of resolution, or sit bewildered- precisely his point.

Any rewrite of Three Sisters is a formidable feat, one that few would dare take on, as its success hinges entirely on execution. Modernising a classic is a delicate balance between reinvention and irrelevance—remove too much of its original context, and you risk transforming a masterpiece into a hollow echo of its former self.

Writer/Director Victor Kalka’s takes on both challenges with Three Sisters at the Flight Path Theatre. He offers an almost claustrophobic platform, where every moment of inaction feels magnified and impossible to escape. The setting is intentionally unclear, blending past and present elements with a mishmash of creative confusion. No choice is fully realised, leaving the audience adrift, unsure where to anchor an emotional or intellectual connection. Chekhov loyalists may find it frustrating, but not in a Chekhovian way.

Three Sisters is deeply rooted in themes of societal constraints, particularly on women, but without the cultural context of Chekhov’s time, their longing for Moscow feels more like reluctance than tragedy. The Russian references remain, yet it feels distinctly un-Russian, as the cast all speak with Aussie accents and engage in very Aussie behaviours. More like a warped, self-flagellating version of Don’s Party, where personal crises and relationship breakdowns unfold amidst a backdrop of awkwardness and denial.

 

So, while Kalka offers a fresh perspective and some compelling tension, the conundrum ultimately falls short in achieving continuity and a cohesive identity, blurring its sense of direction. A few striking examples of dissonance is the use of Boney M’s ‘Moscow’. The upbeat, disco rhythm playing before the show and during the bows clashes with the quiet desperation of the characters. Plot points are also muddied, such as Olga having the freedom to be financially independent and be a school principal, yet the doctor kills someone by prescribing the wrong medication and faces no legal consequences, highlighting the inconsistency in tone and conflict. As a result, the themes of longing and discontent fail to establish any hard stakes or resonate effectively, diluting the emotional core of the story.

Still, the cast manages to engage with the material with conviction, conveying the emotional exhaustion and deep dissatisfaction of the characters. While not every performance stands out equally, several actors capture the depth and nuance of their roles with skill.

Meg Bennetts, Nicola Denton, and Sarah Greenwood bring a steady, understated energy to the sisters, slowly building the quiet tensions and unspoken desires that define them. Greenwood’s scenes with an intense Alex Bryant-Smith are particularly compelling, producing the most emotional resonance, their chemistry grounding the performance.

Matthew Abotomey as the sisters’ hapless brother Andrei, makes the character likeable, despite some brutally honest lines, finding a way to be relatable. Joseph Tanti, as Irina’s suitor, brings warmth and subtle charm to what could otherwise be a passive role, creating a welcome contrast to the otherwise fraught atmosphere.

Set in a time far removed from 1901 Russia, where women can self-actualise beyond marriage or spinsterhood, we’re ultimately left wondering why the sisters persist in self-loathing and entrapment instead of embracing self-examination. The absence of clear obstacles creates a disconnect, ironically mirroring the sisters’ doubt and lack of coherence. In Chekhov’s original, they’re trapped by both societal expectations and their own emotional paralysis – a defining characteristic of their struggle that feels unfounded here, where social pressures are now largely absent.

The key to a modern adaptation is balancing fidelity to the original with a fresh lens that reveals its enduring relevance. Yet, this production’s purpose gets lost in translation. Perhaps that was Kalka’s intent, but if so, it doesn’t quite reach Moscow.

See https://www.flightpaththeatre.org/whats-on/three-sisters for further details

This review also appears on It’s On The House. Check out more reviews at Whats The Show to see what else is on in your town.