Between The Lines

Between The Lines: The James Joyce-Groucho Marx Letters

Between The Lines: The James Joyce-Groucho Marx Letters Rating

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It feels odd to describe a stage show as ‘literary’ and ‘cinematic’. However, that kind of genre blurring perfectly suits the premise of Between The Lines, a show revolving around letters exchanged between James Joyce and Groucho Marx in 1937. If you aren’t familiar with either man’s work, don’t worry. Bloomsday In Melbourne’s annual play (directed by Renee Palmer) gives you more than enough reason to care about these artists and understand why their work and ideas matter. The show doesn’t only care about the things great men create, but also about who gets to keep their legacies alive.

The aforementioned letters in Between The Lines are uncovered in 1987 by Pandora (Seon Williams), a headstrong PhD graduate with an infectious passion for history. Unfortunately, many barriers stand between her and recognition, such as academic snobbery, uncooperative estates and sexism. She recruits renowned Joyce scholar Murray Dalton (Shannon Woollard) to assist her, but they may not be collaborating on as equal footing as they think. The letters themselves are also revealed, with Joyce (Tref Gare) and Marx (Scott Middleton) revealing more and more personal truths about their families, fears and ideas about art.

The show’s design is what gives it the cinematic feel mentioned earlier. The way Joyce and Marx are lit and placed creates exaggerated shadows and a simultaneous sense of distance and closeness, drawing the eye between them as easily as a panning camera. The costumes are loving send-ups of period fashion that still make their characters look stylish. The classical music score gives a great sense of grandeur, especially in scene transitions, though some of the sound effects (such as the pen scratching when letters were dictated) bordered on being distracting. The overall effect reminds me of ‘dark academia’ with its simultaneous glamorization and critique of the world’s intellectual ivory towers.

 

 

The cast has cultivated performances that fit well in this heightened world of mind games and artistic politicking. Gare and Middleton portray Joyce and Marx fantastically. Their idiosyncratic writing styles feel so natural when spoken aloud, the chemistry is palpable despite them speaking in letters rather than directly to each other, and one of my favourite parts of the show was how they quietly reacted to the 1987 scenes in the background while watching them unfold. Williams and her mother (Christina Costigan) are likeable and play into the script’s tropes well. I felt like I was watching a sitcom during their scenes at times – even at their most serious there was something comforting about them. The same can’t be said for when Pandora gets in the room with Murray. Woollard makes for a perfectly pretentious villain, and it’s satisfying to watch him at both his worst and at his meekest, when Pandora doesn’t let the world revolve around him.

Steve Carey’s writing style is what makes this show somewhat ‘literary’. This shines in the Joyce/Marx scenes, where their dialogue feels period accurate but still distinct, witty and full of pathos when it needed to be. In the more naturalistic scenes set in 1987, the writing felt a bit slower and more laboured, and at points the trivia and backstory the characters went into seemed superfluous. Also, without spoiling it, while the ending was set up well and made sense for the characters, some parts felt implausible and it diminished the impact of some of the play’s more powerful scenes. Nevertheless, I thought the play balanced its tragic and comic moments well and made some clever parallels between scenes in the two time periods to tie everything together.

Every year, June 16th is marked by Bloomsday, a celebration of James Joyce and his work. This show is part of Melbourne’s Bloomsday programming, and it highlights hat Bloomsday isn’t just a day to revere the brilliant work of one great man, but a time to reflect on history. Through a unique writing style, larger-than-life performances and enticing design choices, Between The Lines brings historical characters alive for us to laugh with, empathize with and critically observe. Legacies are created by people, and one message of this show is that more people should be invited to carry the stories we love forward in time. The team behind this show has certainly proved that they’re worthy keepers of their story.

To book tickets to Between The Lines: The James Joyce-Groucho Marx Letters, please visit https://fortyfivedownstairs.com/event/between-the-lines-the-james-joyce-groucho-marx-letters/.

Photographer: Jody Jane Stitt

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The Irreducible

The Irreducible

The Irreducible Rating

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3

After The Irreducible’s curtain call, I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one who stayed seated for a few more minutes, processing what on earth (or beyond it) I’d just watched. The promotional images – a contorted androgynous figure dripping in goo and digital warping – convey more of what the show is than anything I could describe. It’s fifty minutes of…that. And somehow, so much more.

The Irreducible is the brainchild of Cohan, creative director of Blank Space Productions and the show’s director, set designer and sole performer. From the moment the audience walks in, Cohan is surrounded by precarious black beams bathed in green light, some of which support bags and vats of transparent goo. In the best way possible, it looks like the set of an Alien knockoff. Cohan, naked except for a full-face balaclava and a large triangular boot on one foot, explores the space. Without dialogue, context, or even facial expressions for most of the show, what we are left with is an androgynous body navigating a familiarly alien world.

Cohan’s prowess as a physical performer is undeniable; their confidence in climbing the set and the variety in their movements is marvellous to behold. There is also a loose sense of storytelling as we see their creature gradually gain mastery over their environment and unveil more unexpected surprises in the set. There was a sense at some points of the creature moving to hit their marks rather than ending up naturally in certain spots, and the ending felt contrived to get Cohan offstage, but this wasn’t enough to break the methodical pacing. The worldbuilding is complemented by fantastic tech design, with a jarringly glitchy surround-sound score, beautiful use of lighting and the wonderful effect of projections on Cohan’s pale naked skin. The Irreducible may be strange and slow-paced, but it’s never boring, and the climax is well-worth the subtle build-up (hint: a lot of goo is involved).

 

 

But what’s the point of it all? The queerness is undeniable, as the show revolves around a nude non-binary body and many set pieces and moments could be seen as an homage to camp low-budget horror. Theatre Works bills The Irreducible as “[an investigation of] the boundaries between the queer body, the self and object”, and there’s definitely a thrilling contrast between the natural nudity and movements of the central character and the industrial environment it finds itself in. I was personally reminded of the many connections scholars and artists have made between queerness and body horror, as those who feel alienated from their bodies choose to embrace what society deems as monstrous. Once Cohan’s face becomes visible, there is a sublime ecstasy in their expressions that feels both frightening and enticing. The show is called ‘The Irreducible’, which provokes the question: what parts of our experiences can’t be reduced? The body? The self? Feelings of alienation? The world around us? Perhaps all of the above, or anything else you can think of.

Regardless of what you take from it, The Irreducible is a thematically rich show with a lot to admire if not fear. It’s one of those artworks that’s something of a Rorschach test: what you see in it and how you respond may say more about you than the performance itself. All I can say is what I saw, which was an arresting celebration of queer monstrosity. Come for the spectacle, stay for the depth, and take as much time as you need to sit with it all afterwards.

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

Photographer: Dan Rabin

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One Man, Two Guvnors

One Man, Two Guvnors

One Man, Two Guvnors Rating

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2

Melbourne is no stranger to unusual, intimate show venues, but it takes a lot of creativity, planning and passion to make full use of unconventional stages. This is especially true for a play like 1 Man 2 Guvnors by Richard Bean, which opened at London’s National Theatre and was a major career stepping-stone for James Cordon. As a company, J&L Presents clearly rises to challenges like this, explaining that “each production [of theirs] is carefully tailored to its surroundings, with the venue itself becoming a character that informs and enhances the narrative”.

For this show, their chosen ‘character’ is Piano On Swan in Richmond, and an otherwise unassuming bar space is converted into a traverse stage. The small audience takes up half the walkway in front of the bar and a little nook close to the entrance, the tech operator looms above the bar and needs a ladder to get down, and the only exits are out the front door and up a small flight of stairs to the toilets. In short, there’s not a lot of space and plenty of obstacles for the actors to navigate – and they do so beautifully.

The play itself is set in Brighton in 1963, and follows the unemployed working-class Francis Henshall (played by Daragh Wills). The character quickly becomes a dogsbody to two employers: gangster Roscoe Crabb (Zoe Rose), and white-collar criminal Stanley Stubbers (Johno White). As Francis struggles to meet the demands of two masters, other subplots pile onto the whirlwind hilarity, including a twin sister posing as her dead brother; a ‘love triangle’ between Crabb, aspiring actor Alan (Dylan Mazurek) and dimwitted socialite Pauline (Emilie); and Francis falling for the feminist bookkeeper Dolly (Sharon Wills). Trust me – it’s much easier to follow when you watch it unfold over two hours, with plenty of slapstick, wordplay and melodrama in between.

 

 

The script itself was popular fifteen years ago for a reason. It was inspired by an Italian commedia dell’arte play from 1743 and takes a lot of inspiration from classic British period comedies from the likes of P. G. Wodehouse. However, the writing sprinkles in modernisms that add to the comedy instead of distracting from it. The swearing, gender swap shenanigans, fourth wall breaking and audience participation keep the gags constant, fresh and fun. The ensemble cast’s perfect sense of timing augments every joke; they aren’t afraid to let awkward silences sit because they make the moments of chaos even more uproarious.

J&L Presents’ love of performance space shows to the fullest, as every inch of the small barroom is used. Actors stand on the bar, fall behind it, rush out onto the street and back in, haul heavy trunks and trolleys every which way – everything is frenetic and chaotic in the best way possible. The blocking was also impressive because aside from a scant few times when some people’s faces weren’t visible, nothing was missed and every visual joke was clear to see. Wills is a fantastic lead getting laughs from the minute of walking onstage and had us in the palm of their hand. The other cast members fantastically embody their characters, understanding that ‘more is more’ and pushing their mannerisms and their voices to the maximum. The comedy was tight and well-planned, but also had a fluidity which made so many moments feel improvisational and any gaffes like additions to the fun. Everyone was enjoying themselves so much that they could do no wrong.

After this show, I can’t imagine 1 Man, 2 Guvnors being performed on a larger, traditional stage. The closeness cultivated between the audience and the characters feels integral to the show working as well as it does. There was a constant sense of excitement, not knowing which character was going to pop out of where, or how things could possibly get worse for our comic heroes. When I went, the audience ranged from very young kids to older people, and from the conversations I heard in the interval and afterwards, everyone seemed to have a fantastic time. This production is intimate, clever, packed with laugh-out-loud moments, and a perfect theater experience for most if not all audiences.

To book tickets to One Man, Two Guvnors, please visit https://www.comedyfestival.com.au/browse-shows/one-man-two-guvnors/.

Photographer: Darcy K Scales

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Who I’m Doing This For

Who I'm Doing This For

Who I’m Doing This For Rating

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3

(Note: This is a review of a play presented as the second half of a double billing. Melbourne Writers’ Theatre is showing Metropolis Monologues across two instalments, and this play is performed after each series of monologues. I will review the monologues separately.)

My experiences with Melbourne Writer’s Theatre’s (MWT) Metropolis Monologue series were very positive. The diversity of style and subject matter, married with some great performances and direction, showed how fresh and fun Melbourne’s independent theatre scene can be. As mentioned, five of the ten monologues are presented on each night, followed by the play that won MWT’s 2026 Amethyst Award. Unfortunately, this second show, Who I’m Doing This For, wasn’t on the same level as the monologues for me.

The play, written by Peter Farrar, follows Simon (Lochi Laffin-Vines), a man suffering under the weight of grief. He has recently lost his father (Tony Adams) – an abusive, drug-addicted ex-veteran – after caring for both him and his sickly mother. Shortly after the play begins, we see the toll his depression takes on him; he loses his job, is increasingly unable to connect to his girlfriend Claudia (Emily Farrell) and slips into a nihilism that will drive him to desperate and horrific actions.

 

 

The cast are strong performers, and their chemistry is mostly enjoyable to watch. The couple’s playful moments are endearing, the father-son relationship whiplashes thrillingly between awkwardness and mutual rage, and some of the most chilling moments come when the father is simply standing in the background, watching Simon unravel. The lighting is cleverly changed to enhance the mood of certain scenes, and the writing is at its best in the character interactions, such as the snarky quips between Simon and Claudia and the naked narcissism of the father’s abuse tactics. The play is laudably ambitious and asks provocative questions about whether the roots of trauma are personal, familial or systemic.

However, to me, the story and script did not live up to the themes it was trying to tackle. While the dynamic between Simon and his father was strong, Claudia as a character felt like a vessel for Simon to vent to or at, and she seemed much too accepting of Simon’s unreasonableness throughout. This underdevelopment also applies to the radicalization Simon undergoes; plenty of people struggle with trauma and mental illness and don’t make the decision that Simon does, and it’s unclear what external force pushed him down the specific path he takes. Outside influence is an essential component of political radicalization, and its absence makes his anti-capitalist soliloquies feel out of place. The extensive monologuing also states the play’s themes so blatantly that it robs what should be a crazy, thrilling climax of any tension. Too many moments reminded me of the old writers’ aphorism: show, don’t tell.

Who I’m Doing This For has many interesting questions within it about generational trauma, mental illness and personal responsibility. Steven T. Boltz’s direction clearly brought out the best in the actors and team involved, and I think that the play could be very strong in a future revival. But as is, it didn’t have nearly as much polish as the monologues that preceded it, and I would definitely recommend those over this play in its current form.

To book tickets to Who I’m Doing This For, please visit https://melbournewriterstheatre.org.au/.

Photographer: Mina Shafer

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