Storked: The Reality Of My Body Is Monstrous

Storked

Storked Rating

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Storked is a vignetted interrogation of all things uterine: what it means to have a uterus, the expectations of having a uterus, and the “choice to choose.” The play looks at periods, pregnancy, monogamy, family, parenting, sex, and what it means to choose to have children in today’s world.

The show is told across four acts, broken down into a mixture of skits, short narratives and thought explorations, each with their own witty title card, wrapping each moment into a neat bow. What’s truly impressive here is that throughout every single segment, it all connects seamlessly to the key idea at the show’s core; what it means to have a uterus, regardless of your gender.

The pacing was fantastic, and each act threw a different tonal angle at you with what it wanted to say. The first act was my favourite, a great mix of absurdist comedy following a brutal body horror opening. As the show progressed, this first act was the perfect reminder of the range of each performer on stage. As the scenes and themes became heavier, I was reminded of how much each actor made me laugh, then so easily in another context made my heart break for them. I always find it impressive how you can dive so deep into a topic and really strike a chord but do so whilst still making the audience laugh, which Storked pulled off effortlessly, through witty writing and exceptional use of physical comedy.

Storked took on an excellent use of staging, incorporating technology in a way that really added another level to the show. The titles of each scene made me giggle every time, even when the performance accompanying it put a pit in my stomach; a perfect encapsulation of how this show twists and turns tone, whilst somehow never tipping the pendulum entirely in favour of one or the other in a really remarkable balancing act.

At the end of the performance, it was an added thrill to scroll through the cast and crew listing and see a sea of nonbinary and femme pronouns taking the majority. As a queer femme myself, this makes my heart sing. To know how authentic and true to life these stories are, how insane the stakes become in sections of these vignettes, but still connect so deeply with the material its tackling, is because it all comes from a collective of people who share this frustration, fatigue and downright rage for the societal systems that force us to think about these things all the time from far too young of an age.

Storked is a true blend of genres, taking elements of body horror, satirical comedy, spoken word poetry and blending it into a hilarious, devastating and ultimately truthful exploration of what it means to have a womb.

To book tickets to Storked, please visit https://antipodestheatre.com/.

Photography:- Angel Leggas 3 Fates Media

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The Beep Test: An Airtight, Raucous Hoot Of Nostalgia.

The Beep Test

The Beep Test Rating

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The Beep Test follows Jane, Zach, Cooper and Sandra in their year 7 beep test and Sir, the PE teacher enforcing this hell upon them. The show explores the pressures and high stakes of high school, the importance of finding your own worth and what an absolute nightmare the beep test is, all in a short and sweet 60 minute run time.

At the first toll of the titular ‘beep’ you could practically feel the shiver that went down the spine of every audience member. Sat beside a friend of mine from high school, she gripped my arm, bracing for impact. Such a clever concept to take one of the most hated Australian school activities and draw it out to interrogate the themes that affect teenagers of this age.

Like high school, the stakes feel ridiculously high, the perfect vessel for big laughs, which The Beep Test delivered on at every point. The show crammed as much comedy as it could into its 60 minute run time, milking every second of stage time and every ounce of physicality to ensure our cheeks hurt by the end. With a full audience, not a single joke didn’t land. Through this, what I most admired was how each emotional beat still landed. Neylon and Peele balanced the stakes for these characters while keeping us laughing, but never at the expense of rushing through appropriate character development. It was almost pantomime how quickly the show had the whole audience uproariously laughing, to then cooing with a sea of “aww’s” as the romantic storyline progressed, or as another detail was revealed about a student’s depressing home life.

Each actor really shone as well, hitting the comedic beats and every note. The vocals were particularly impressive from the leads Sara Reed and Axel Duffy who portrayed Jane and Zach respectively. Similarly, I adored the chemistry between Sebastian Li, who played Cooper and Carly Jaz, who played Sandra. I was hook, line and sinker for every moment of their storyline. With the exception of the musical number ‘Zachiarah Nicholson’, the songs between these two characters won my heart over every time.

The staging was great. The back wall of the school gym was riddled with graffiti and secret silly details, and my friend and I spent each moment before the lights went down and as the lights came out pointing out to each other and giggling. It was a really well-executed use of space, immersive and simple, with essentially the only key props being a bench seat and the cones the characters had to run between.

There were a few aspects of Jane’s storyline I wanted slightly more from. For me, she was the character who had the least backstory, and her motivation felt a little one note. Sara Reed performed as Jane fantastically; however, with so much of the dialogue in the show putting her down for being a girl, with that simple term being used as an insult, I wanted more rage from her character. It’s clear she wants to beat Zach to prove to herself that she can, but I almost feel like there was further possibility for comedy in pushing that motivation further and tying it into the playground misogyny that is consistently thrown her way.

The Beep Test is an undeniably charming comedy musical bursting with passion, heart and consistent laughs.

To book tickets to The Beep Test, please visit https://www.theatreworks.org.au/2025/the-beep-test.

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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

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The Butcher, The Baker’ Serves Up Role-Shifting Revelry

The Butcher The Baker

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From the opening notes, The Butcher, The Baker immediately transports you into a world reminiscent of 1930s European cabaret—glamorous, provocative, and deeply steeped in the tradition of Weimar-style performance. Written, composed, and musically directed by Ella Filar, this production is both a showcase of exuberant musicality and a shocking exploration of sexuality, identity, and the fluidity of roles that people inhabit.

Directed by Kevin Hopkins—who first encountered the script while in the Czech Republic—The Butcher, The Baker carries a distinctly European flavour. Hopkins’s stated fascination with the piece’s “grotesquery and absurdism” is evident in his staging. The narrative follows three focal characters: Honey Valik (portrayed by Natasha Broadstock), an artist deeply invested in her craft; Alex Summers (played by Claire Nicholls), a brain surgeon; and Johnny Agostino (Fletcher Dyson), a butcher who captures both character’s imaginations. Threading the story together are two captivating narrators, Myf Powell and Bruce Langdon, who serve as muses and as the voices of subconscious (and sometimes very conscious) desires.

 

What makes The Butcher, The Baker especially compelling is how it shifts seamlessly between riotous humour and unexpected shocks. In one moment, it revels in playful innuendo and high-spirited wordplay; in the next, it confronts the audience with overt sexuality or sudden shifts in character roles—often leaving you unsure whom you’re meant to be rooting for. This is intentional: the show’s dada-esque edge delights in keeping viewers off-balance, forcing us to question the “meaning” behind both words and actions on stage.

Throughout, Filar’s score is vibrantly eclectic. One moment, you might hear a quick staccato reminiscent of German dance halls; the next, soaring operatic passages or lively jazz. The band—**Martin Khromchenko and Lucke Schreiber on saxophones, Lyuba Khromchenko on violin, Ella Filar on keyboard, and Christos Linou and Bradon Payne on percussion—**heightens the sense of off-kilter fun, playing behind a curtain in costumes that evoke both a bustling kitchen and a risqué soirée. It’s a deliberate collision of worlds, perfectly reflecting the script’s thematic juxtapositions.

The production is a tight 75 minutes, ensuring audiences never have the chance to lose focus. At times, you might catch yourself marvelling at the sheer cheekiness of the dialogue and lyrics, only to be hurled into the next song or scene before you can fully process what just transpired. As you watch these characters grapple with their obsessions, desires, and identities, you may feel that you’re taken on a ride rather than asked to pick sides. This experience becomes more explicit when reading through the printed lyrics and programme after the show.

 

Chris Molyneux, the technical manager, deserves commendation for crafting a production that feels seamless yet offbeat. Lights and sound create an immersive environment, supporting the transitions between the boisterously funny and the unabashedly sensual.

If you’re seeking a conventional storyline, The Butcher, The Baker may throw you off-guard. But for anyone who revels in cabaret’s capacity to shock, surprise, and delight, this show is a feast. It’s a testament to a distinctly European tradition of theatre—a kaleidoscope of humour, sexuality, and absurdity that leaves you both entertained and intriguingly disoriented.

As Director Kevin Hopkins notes, this play’s “unpredictable plot” and “strange characters” offer a fresh, modern slant on old-world cabaret. With gender identities and roles under the spotlight, it feels very much of this moment, even as it channels the spirit of another era. Ultimately, The Butcher, The Baker is fun, fast-paced, and a tantalising entry in the Midsumma Festival line-up—and a wild ride well worth taking.

To book tickets to The Butcher The Baker, please visit https://www.theatreworks.org.au/2025/the-butcher-the-baker

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