All Bull

All Bull

All Bull Rating

Click if you liked this article

2

All Bull, written and directed by Walt Dyson, follows a group of five salesmen as they travel from pub to work to pub to work and spot a bull stampeding down the street. As the play progresses, employees Ben (Lousie Jameson) and John (Ashlynn Parigi) attempt to raise the alarm as the group and the rest of the city are turned one by one into bulls.

The show is a bit unpolished in a few ways, firstly its tone/style has difficulty finding a home. Joe and Jeff who were played by Emily Farrell and Emily Jenkins respectively, were written almost solely comedically, allowing the actors to lean into the ridiculousness of their characters. Farrell and Jenkins’ clowning energy were fantastic to watch and were real comedic highlights of the show. In comparison, Jameson’s Ben and Parigi’s John were more grounded. Their embodiments created men the audience felt they knew. However this does highlight that the play is unsure whether to commit to realism or camp, and therefore often lands awkwardly in between. There were more camp moments near the start, particularly when first spotting the bull, that I wish had been peppered more throughout.

The sound and composition by Junaid Eastman is a stand out production element. Transitioning from cow bells to clinking glasses, Eastman creates an unnerving environment from when the audience first enters and plays off the tonal layers throughout the show.

 

 

While I was particularly excited to see where the bull transformations fit in the themes, the allegory is a bit half baked and attempts to stretch without material to cling onto. The script attempts to make it explicit, spoonfeeding the audience direct lines about what it’s meant to mean, e.g. “bulls will be bulls,” while the allegory itself becomes inconsistent. The reasoning for why some of the men turn into bulls or are drawn to its appeal is underdeveloped. Additionally, the choice of making dangerous men monstrous and unintelligent is already a delicate game.

Though I give credit to the fact the script was attempting to branch out from sexual violence and misogyny – as many productions critiquing masculinity have focused their attention – it ends up being a vague what is being critiqued. It leans towards talking about male alcoholism, but we don’t see it actually cause many problems. In the director’s note Dyson references “drunken acts” he had witnessed, but few happen during the show, including none from Ben who is meant to be the raging alcoholic. It ends up not feeling grounded in these real world issues it’s alluding to, saying “drinking makes men act badly” without proving its claim or asking why. I think there is something in the cracks about how capitalism nurtures toxic masculinity, but it doesn’t develop far.

The show’s strongest moments were in the choreographed movement sequences and leaning into the physicalisation and aggression of the bulls. Faun Xe and Eden Bren were standouts in their bullish masculinity, even when doing a set transition the energy was palpable with clear hierarchical lines drawn. The staging did however at times feel static and awkward, often drawing my eye away from the main conversations.

All Bull attempts to examine Australian drinking culture, toxic masculinity and at times the manosphere, but ends up unsure in its thesis. I think with some more development and a confident through thread, this show could truly be something special. In a current climate where there is by no means a lack of theatre about masculinity, Dyson needs to be specific with what he actually wants to talk about.

To book tickets to All Bull, please visit https://www.eventbrite.com.au/e/all-bull-a-play-in-one-act-tickets-1984172243593.

Spread the word on your favourite platform!

The Effect – Dopamine, Love, or Both?

The Effect

The Effect Rating

Click if you liked this article

I’m already fairly familiar with The Effect by Lucy Prebble when I sit down in the Theatre Works audience, the play having first debuted in 2012 at the National Theatre in London and been played across the world since. More than a decade later the show has made its way down to Key Conspirators and I’m curious what they’ll do with it. The four-hander mainly follows two participants in an antidepressant drug trial, Connie and Tristan, as they begin to fall in love – but whether it’s caused by the supplementary dopamine coursing through their veins is troublingly unknown to them and the doctors alike.

As needed for any tight cast show, the ensemble is near flawless. Directed superbly by Alonso Pineda, each actor embodies their character to their utmost limits.

Emma Choy, playing Dr Lorna James, has wrapped everything she does in anxiety. Her vocal tone, her gaze, her slight shifting, all build to a near pitiful portrayal of the doctor until it reveals a spine that stands straight throughout all the chaos. Choy is endearing and heart-breaking all at once, honing in on the lovable awkwardness so we can watch it be torn apart.

Jessica Martin finds an unexpected confidence in Connie instead of the bashful and desperate versions I’ve previously seen. Martin lets Connie discover a self-aware power which becomes fascinating to watch be desperately clung to and employed against Tristan and Dr James. It also got to rear its head beautifully well within the intimate and vulnerable relationship with Damon Baudin’s Tristan that made me blush to watch.

 

 

Baudin’s physicalisation is intoxicating to watch. His bounces, his fidgets, his careful curation of presence are all highly rendered. Tristan feels real. He’s able to slip from small and helpless to explosive in the blink of an eye, weaving a carefully constructed pathos through a character that could easily become scarily dominating and uncomfortable. To balance such crassness with an earnest love that you root for, proves Baudin is a master of his craft.

Similarly, Philip Hayden as Dr Toby Sealey carefully toes the line between a pretentious dickhead and a man genuinely trying his best. The role of Dr Sealey is one that can quickly slip into caricature or downright evil, but Hayden brings a needed empathy. You trust that he believes his own words, even if you vehemently disagree with them.

Pineda has intelligently leant into the repetition and isolation of the text. People are scattered across large spaces, making them feel simultaneously alone and claustrophobic. We want to escape the trial as much as they do. There is also an employment of voyeurism by both the characters and the audience that creates a layered effect of examining the show as its own experiment. Occasionally during the longer scenes between Connie and Tristan, the staging did start to feel a bit static, mainly because I was desperate for more play as soon as the characters could escape the rigidity.

Vulcan is meticulous in his design, the aesthetics feel entirely in tune with the clinical and desaturated nature of the text. The stage is split into three distinct areas. We have the main downstage area acting as the facility where only the actors can bring it colour and life, amplified by the grey-scale costumes. Then we have the two-story set up where below are realistically rendered medical facilities and above is a transient play space that moves from bedroom, to stage, to a platform for the watchful eye. This two-story set up smartly allows itself to be hidden away, only visible when lit, letting us sit in the dark, unstimulating emptiness with Connie and Tristan.

Additionally, Vulcan has built an absolute spectacle of lighting into the membranes of the set. The set is the lighting and the lighting is the set: it’s symbiotic. Using an array of lighting bars, Vulcan had created lighting that breathes and has a life of its own, almost reacting organically to actors. Vulcan is not afraid of the dark either. Light is only introduced when it’s absolutely required, the haunting scene of Dr Lorna James sitting quietly in the dark comes to mind.

The Effect is a tight production that doesn’t do more than it needs to, threading all production areas together to prioritise the themes of the text. With a wicked ensemble and beautiful design, the show is not to be missed!

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

Spread the word on your favourite platform!

I Thought You Said

I Thought You Said

I Thought You Said Rating

Click if you liked this article

1

I THOUGHT YOU SAID is a dark, passionate, and fast-paced show. It follows Frankie (Finn Corr) and Sam (Ally Taueki-Gatt) across a single evening of late night shift work. An experience I am deeply familiar with, late night shift work is often filled with empty space and time, providing ample opportunity for strange, emotional, and difficult conversations to occur. Corr and Taueki-Gatt immediately establish a taut and cordial connection that is pulled and stretched as the audience follows them throughout their evening. Bronte Lemaire’s direction and writing allows for humour to pepper tense moments of the show, and stretches the expectations the audience has of the characters.

The show begins with Frankie arriving at the store for their shift, both Frankie and Sam are in their own worlds, listening to their own music. Frankie and Sam discuss how we take in information, how do we process bad news and fear mongering? Frankie and Sam have different approaches to processing and dealing with a world that is slowly breaking down. The world that Fankie and Sam live in is plagued with dangerous falling stars, as a result of big business mining star cores.

Throughout the show there are several interludes and moments of chaos that represent the progressive danger of the falling stars. This fictional crisis is mirrored in the wars and conflict we see in our world today. After each interlude Sam and Frankie alternate and monologue directly to the audience. Frankie’s first monologue felt poignant, as they delved into the issue of performative posting on social media, and addressing that change can’t occur if you’re only shouting into an echo chamber. Frankie made me think, if we only have a limited time on this earth, wouldn’t we want to live as comfortably as possible? And if it has a negative impact on the world, how much impact can we as individuals have? What is the price of comfort?

 

 

Lemaire’s beautifully written show provided moments of levity among serious conversations. Sam and Frankie continue their evening, discussing the hypocrisy and environmental impact of large companies such as their employer. They argue about what people will sacrifice to remain good. Ultimately Sam feels that people are generally shallow, stating “it’s not a protest, it’s a parade,” that without sacrificing safety or causing real violent damage, any sort of activism falls short of effectiveness. I found myself disagreeing with Sam, and sympathising with Frankie. Both Sam and Frankie are passionate throughout the show, they both care, but they struggle to agree on how passion and care should manifest.

The dynamic relationship between the characters, matched by frantic lighting (designed by Allira Smith) created a powerful and lasting impression. I found myself questioning my own beliefs, and reconsidering how I engage with topics that I am passionate about. It’s clear that this production was created with love and care, that the creative team are thoughtful and want the audience to consider what meaningful action and engagement with the world looks like. I felt impassioned and empowered to take action, and its a testament to the power of theatre, and the power of this show.

To book tickets to I Thought You Said, please visit https://www.theatreworks.org.au/2026/i-thought-you-said.

Photographer: Mia Sugiyanto

Spread the word on your favourite platform!