Can it ruin lives? Destroy relationships? Tear apart businesses? Or even cause death?
In The Children’s Hour, one girl’s lie causes all of the above.
The play, based on an actual 1810 court case in Scotland, presents a gut-wrenching and emotional story of a cruel and manipulative student who fabricates a tale of a lesbian affair between her two school mistresses. The fallout is catastrophic—lives are destroyed, trust is shattered, and a community is torn apart.
First performed in 1934, The Children’s Hour remains strikingly relevant today. Its exploration of human nature touches on themes we still face: the cruelty of a lie, the vulnerability of truth, and the devastating consequences of a malicious word.
The characters are people we have encountered at some point in our lives—from a young girl desperate for attention at any cost to a grandmother trying to spoil her grandchild and women trying to create a future for themselves, only to be cut down before they get there.
The strength of the play lies not just in the harrowing story but in its perfectly cast ensemble. The entire cast is extremely strong, with raw emotion and realistic portrayals bringing each character to life. Special mention would have to go to the three generations of women: the conniving Mary, played by Kim Clifton; the wronged school mistress, Martha, played by Jessica Bell; and the matriarch grandmother who unwittingly sets the lie free into the world, played by Annie Byron.
By the time the final curtain falls, the severity of the play’s message lingers in the air as you exit the safety of the theatre walls. The Children’s Hour forces the audience to confront the consequences of dishonesty and the fragility of truth. The question remains: would you ever lie again, knowing the damage it could cause?
The Children’s Hours runs until the 1st of March, this powerful production is a must-see. Don’t miss it.
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.
With its first twist, An Inspector Calls locks the audience into an intriguing labyrinth where the seven sins are put on trial and the reckoning begins. Playwright J.B. Priestley elevates what appears to be a straightforward police inquiry into a searing social critique, urging us to examine not just the corrupt elite, but our own part in the drama.
In the midst of their self-satisfied revelry, the Birlings receive an unexpected visit from an enigmatic inspector. A typical inquiry into a young woman’s suicide transforms into a scathing indictment of the far-reaching consequences of individual actions as he methodically unravels a web of arrogance, elitism, and social injustice. It’s a chilling reminder that no one escapes accountability—not even the seemingly untouchable.
While the script can feel wordy at times, with recurring motifs, the pacing unwinds steadily, allowing the tension to build. The choice to divide the play into three acts proves effective, with each act ending on a cliffhanger. The seven-member ensemble is finely tuned, expertly portraying their characters’ flaws and fatuities, ensuring the story remains engaging from start to finish.
Vincent Andriano, as Inspector Goole, serves as Priestley’s mouthpiece, evolving from a cheery, cordial demeanor into an imposing, omnipotent figure and ultimately an avenging angel. As Goole’s forceful nature emerges, his moral authority becomes both gripping and thought-provoking. Andriano’s expert use of pauses and knowing glances heightens the atmosphere most effectively.
Annabel Cotton and David M. Bond portray the Birling patriarch and matriarch, Arthur and Sybil, exuding an undeniable sense of arrogance and entitlement. Both share a striking similarity in their imperious natures, displaying an unyielding superiority that is both aggravating and all-too-recognisable. A distinctly nonchalant coldness.The audience is both repelled and riveted by their haughty hypocrisy.
Thanks to the Inspector’s timely arrival, the younger generation has a chance to break free. Here there is hope. Eric and Sheila Birling both grapple with guilt, slowly awakening to self-awareness and truth-telling. Harry Charlesworth delivers a beautifully nuanced portrayal of Eric, a young man burdened with the weight of his family’s decayed legacy, offering a marked juxtaposition to his parents awful indifference.
Rebecca Liquorish delivers a commanding and layered performance as Sheila, capturing her transformation from naive arrogance to sharp moral clarity, a liberating journey from ignorance to self-expression. Authentic and compelling, Liquorish makes Sheila’s evolution both believable and redemptive.
Meredith Blee portrays Edna, the servant, with quiet dignity, reinforcing the sharp class divide and the Birlings’ indifference to those beneath them. Simon Pearce plays Gerald Croft, Sheila’s fiancé, highlighting how Croft’s seemingly benign demeanor and moral ambiguity mask deeper and more dangerous complacency. He embodies moral convenience, offering just enough charm to deflect scrutiny while remaining complicit in the darker actions of those around him.
An Inspector Calls is the perfect choice to inaugurate the Genesian’s new Rozelle premises. This lovely space effortlessly blends art deco with modern comfort and cutting-edge technology. The production’s Edwardian elegance shines through a rich colour palette and refined set design, with deep, opulent hues capturing the grandeur of the era. Family portraits, more than mere decoration, serve as proud emblems of the Birling dynasty, while Susan Carveth’s sumptuous costumes subtly underscore the social hierarchy.
Co-directors Ali Bendall and Mark Bull have crafted a tightly woven slow-burn, infused with a hint of the supernatural. The conflict between resistance and realisation is what truly holds our attention. We long for each characters’ moment of capitulation, as they squirm beneath the Inspector’s steady gaze and probing words.
This fascinating premise invites us to imagine a world where an inspector holds everyone responsible whereby our actions are judged, with no escape. As Goole states, “We don’t live alone. We are members of one body. We are responsible for each other.” Ultimately, we are all faced with an uncomfortable truth: accountability isn’t reserved for the wealthy, no matter how much we deny it. And one day, it may very well come calling.
Mirror mirror on the wall, who is the most eligible sister of them all?
In an uproarious reinterpretation of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, this bold and comedic staging brings the iconic family drama to life in a setting as unexpected as it is delightful—the last surviving pub theatre in Australia. The play, set against the backdrop of a family teetering on the brink of financial ruin, centres on the age-old dilemma of marrying off daughters to wealthy suitors. Yet, in a fresh and dynamic twist, every character—rather than just the heroine, Elizabeth—takes centre stage in their own right.
This production’s brilliance lies in its ensemble cast, which delivers such an impeccable balance of humour and nuance that it’s nearly impossible to pick a standout performer. Each actor shines, feeding off the energy of the others in a masterful display of comedy and wit.
Special mention must go to AJ Evans, who plays the frenzied matriarch, Mrs. Bennet. His portrayal is a riotous blend of manic energy and unfiltered desperation, offering some of the evening’s most laugh-out-loud moments. Evans’ comedic timing, coupled with his ability to morph into a character consumed by a single-minded obsession with securing the daughters’ futures, steals the show.
The play’s minimalistic set allows the actors to shine, while clever costume changes and seamlessly executed scene transitions keep the action flowing without missing a beat. You can’t stop laughing and smiling through the performance as it takes you through formal dances, garden appreciation walks and many formal scenes with a reverie of a “bogan” country bumpkin family attempting to snare the big kahuna.
While the dreamy Mr. Darcy remains a figure of quiet earnestness, his stoic presence is overshadowed by the relentless charm of the surrounding characters. The play cleverly balances these serious moments with a playful irreverence that breathes new life into the familiar story. Even the stiffest of characters find their moments of absurdity in this delightful reimagining.
In the end, it’s happily ever after for everyone, bars Mary, the ugly duckling of the family, and it’s impossible not to leave the theatre grinning, still chuckling in a posh English accent. It’s a joyous, uproarious ride from start to finish—one that offers a new lens through which to enjoy a beloved classic.
