Encounters: Brilliant Plays By A Hit Or Miss Ensemble

Encounters

Encounters Rating

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1

Encounters leans on diversity as its greatest strength. While the four plays in the collection are by the same author (Alex Broun) and all focus on rifts in relationships, they span multiple genres, themes and character dynamics. The cast has been promoted as “an ensemble of age and ethnically diverse Australian actors, spanning from…internationally renowned movie/stage performers to versatile rookies.”

On paper, this seems like fertile ground for a well-crafted and thought-provoking show. While Encounters did meet that potential at points, there were many instances where the acting didn’t mesh well with Broun’s writing style. This problem, unfortunately, dragged the first two plays down.

Yell(ow) starts strong with its minimal set design; all that’s needed to give a clear sense of place is some furniture and a back projection of a messy apartment. Our focus is drawn to the Asian couple who live there. They speculate about a noise they heard outside late at night, their paranoia and anxiety rise, and eventually we see how racism and recent family trauma have eroded their relationship.

Alex Broun has been lauded as ‘the Shakespeare of short plays’, and the riveting structure here makes it clear why. The talk starts trivial, but bombshell revelations keep dropping, leading to deeper conversations that trigger greater reveals until the climax breaks their relationship. In this performance, the actors went into shouting and physical altercations too quickly, and they never seemed truly at ease with each other. This made the revelations feel more like blunt, forced exposition than deep confessions, and the climax felt hollow because they were already yelling at each other before the tension hit its peak.

The second play, The Dead Sun, is another domestic drama, this time between an older couple and their son. The writing goes in a more surreal direction, with grief and conflict blurring the lines between what is real and what is imagined. While the build-in tension is clear, physical moments between the husband and wife could’ve been pushed further, and there still wasn’t much variety in how the characters spoke to each other in longer conversations. This made it difficult to follow the storyline and stay immersed, especially when the climactic moments didn’t quite feel real. However, I enjoyed the fact that the set barely changed from the first play, except for the back projection and the dressings on the couch and table. It was an organic subtle way to tie the two plays together.

YOU was the play that got me fully back on board. It’s a hard swerve into sitcom territory, starting with a woman rejecting the ardent advances of a coworker with a crush and spiralling as more ridiculous characters show up with their own grand confessions and embarrassing mistakes.

The pace was quick and exciting and the characters were each endearing in their own ways. This is particularly impressive given the subject matter. In a time where we’re so aware of the abuses of power that can happen in romance and sex, it would be easy for many of these characters to seem creepy and off-putting. But they don’t, because they are played so over-the-top that they can’t be taken seriously.

The last play, Disco Bombing, quickly brings the mood back down with a simple set projection of a ticking clock. A plucky journalist has written a brilliant article uncovering the truth of a recent terrorist attack, but her boss has concerns about publishing it, since it would undermine historic peace negotiations within the government. He sums up the conflict in one line: “truth or peace?”

The performances from Sunil Shanker and Isabelle Wang feel more confident and embodied than in the other dramas. The acting and writing are also much subtler, strained by the distance between boss and worker. It would’ve been nice to see more escalating tension between them, especially since the stakes here are much higher than the other plays, but the ending was genuinely moving.

There’s a lot to like about Encounters. Each play is poignant and tackles difficult themes flawlessly, and the low-key set design works perfectly in tying everything together. The acting issues are significant, but they can be boiled down to some performers lacking experience, and there are worse problems to have in a production as ambitious as this. While Encounters has ended its short season, and I’d hesitate to recommend it anyway due to the shaky first half, everybody in the cast is worth watching out for, and Alex Broun’s plays are worth seeking out.

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.

Slay: A Theatre Works Presentation

Slay

Slay Rating

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What happens when you put four lesbians in a room with the iconic cast of Twilight, Glee legend Sue Sylvester, and extremely polarising politician Pauline Hanson? Well, a terrific game of Kiss, Marry, Kill, of course!

And the killing doesn’t even remotely stop there. Slay is a political horror comedy where those same four lesbians are being targeted by a killer after someone they know suddenly disappears. One-by-one the girls start to fall victim to the mysterious killer (who is a slay themselves in their dazzling costume).

As the story progresses, it is also intercut with two further narratives of storytelling – the segmented manifesto of an intense political party (SLAM), run by lesbians who are tired of cis men leading the world, as well as renditions of different social media platforms and their associated rabbit-holes of misinformation.

As the cast portrays an array of bizarre individuals that you would find in a Reddit thread or being asked for their ‘hot takes’ on a subway for TikTok – they are sandwiched tightly between the other polarising narratives taking place. It mirrors this generation’s low-attention span habit of scrolling through phones, playing a game, and watching TV all simultaneously. And though you are bombarded by aspects of the show, there’s a perfect amount of satirical comedy and pop-culture references in the mix for it to be an enjoyable smack in the face.

The four actresses of the production, Raven Rogers-Wright (as Ziggy), Jackie van Lierop (as Jessica), Anita Mei La Terra (as Cora), Louisa Cusumano (as Valentina and Kiki) are an excellent ensemble throughout each of the sub-stories. Rivalling classic casts of campy horror favourites, such as Scream and Scream Queens, they all work together with such an infectious energy that gives the show a lot of life, which is ironic given the death surrounding them.

Particularly during an unforgettable and passionate round of Just Dance, Anita Mei La Terra (Cora) completely smashes her dance moves in style. And the way the game is incorporated into the stage design flawlessly while the scene unfolds, leaves the crowd in hysterics and tears.

Continuing to kill in terms of the production design and lighting, the crew was able to make the small stage feel so much larger and dynamic with just a scarcely sheer sheet behind the stage, which was a joy to watch. It led to depth through projections onto the sheet and scenes occurring through it. The only thing the set lacked was a way to raise any floor-based scenes higher for more audience visibility. Even though the seating was tiered, the view was often obstructed for scenes like the opening slumber party game, which was a bummer when it was so entertaining.

The biggest takeaway though was that the director Steph Lee, and her fellow cast and crew creatives that worked to construct Slay, are ones to watch for the future. If this is the unique, succinct, and enjoyable material you get to consume from this team, it won’t be hard to return.

This political campy slasher was perfectly devised for the stage. It would make you fight to be the ‘Final Girl’, just so you can be the last one standing and watch it all.

To book tickets to Slay, please visit https://www.theatreworks.org.au/2025/slay.

Photographer: ISABELLA ‘IZ’ ZETTL

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.

Review: Melbourne Writers Theatre presents Lyceum Highway and Metropolis Monologues

Lyceum Highway and Metropolis Monologues

Lyceum Highway and Metropolis Monologues Rating

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3

If you’re searching for an evening of new theatre that allows you to champion emerging artists and writers while enjoying captivating performances, look no further than the Melbourne Writers Theatre’s presentation of Lyceum Highway alongside the Metropolis Monologues. Staged at the The Stables @ Meat Market, this combined offering of a one-act play and monologue showcase runs for approximately two hours and thirty minutes, allowing audiences to see fresh works in a cosy and intimate setting.

Lyceum Highway is written by K V Adams, directed by Brooke Fairley, and performed by Laura Iris Hill (as Maggie) and Kevin Dee (as G). It’s a compelling one-hour piece delving into themes of redemption, recovery, forgiveness, and personal growth. The story unfolds on a road trip, with Maggie picking up G, a mysterious hitchhiker who may or may not be who he claims to be. Hill’s portrayal of Maggie is simultaneously fragile and bold, showing a character who’s both wounded and healing, and the emotional journey she takes us on is genuinely gripping.

Kevin Dee’s G provides a contrasting energy; his calm insight anchors Maggie as she confronts her past, and their rapport is palpable, carrying the audience through moments of tension, humour, and heartfelt connection. The clever use of projections designed by Minty Hunter and sound design by John Jenkin works seamlessly to enhance the road-trip vibe, transporting viewers to shifting landscapes and emotional states. The production team collaborated to create a cohesive and visually engaging show. Producer Clare Mendes should be commended for bringing this new work to the stage.

On the evening I attended, five monologues were featured as part of the Metropolis Monologues: The Night Market by Gary Helmore performed by Mark Opitz, The Most Alive Part of Me by Peter Farrar performed by Amir Rahimzadeh, Off the Grid by Marie Collie performed by Katrina Mathers, Snakes and Ladders by Donna De Palma performed by Janine McGrath, and Till Death Do Us Part by Louise Hopewell performed by Nick Steain.

Each piece explores how a place, real or metaphorical, shapes personal experiences. Whether it’s a literal market or an abstract emotional space, these short pieces emphasise the power of location in uncovering what makes us vulnerable, determined, or reflective. Seeing different writers and actors unite to bring these stories to life highlights how monologues can offer an intimate theatrical experience.

A Triumph for Emerging Voices: Melbourne Writers Theatre has curated an event with energy, creativity, and promise. From the reflective depths of Lyceum Highway to the variety of voices in the Metropolis Monologues, this is a perfect example of how we, as theatre lovers, can support new work and help local writers and performers refine their craft. The Meat Market’s small and intimate setting of the The Stables @ Meat Market draws the audience closer to the performers, allowing for a deeper emotional connection.

If you’re interested in seeing new Australian theatre develop before your eyes—and enjoying a fulfilling evening of storytelling—this production is well worth your time. The passionate performances, skilful direction, and inventive writing offer a memorable night. Above all, Lyceum Highway and Metropolis Monologues are a powerful reminder of the creative talent blossoming in our community and the importance of supporting artists.

To book tickets to Lyceum Highway and Metropolis Monologues, please visit https://meatmarket.org.au/event/lyceum-highway-metropolis-monologues/2025-03-16/.

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.