Theatre and musicals in Melbourne this week

Snakes have curled their way around mythology for millennia. Present in countless creation stories from Egyptian, Greek and Indian to Norse and First Nations cultures (including the Rainbow Serpent), the loaded symbolism of this coiled creature clasping its tail between its fangs – the ouroboros – evokes eternity.  Sometimes the serpent holds the world together. Other times, it’s a constricting chaos agent. Either way, the fireside nature of myths, oft-shared in storytelling sessions spun under the stars, is inherently unending, melding anew with each retelling. Tackled by everyone from Roman poets Virgil and Ovid to Canadian indie rockers Arcade Fire and Katee Robert’s queered novel, Midnight Ruin, the myth of Eurydice and her Orpheus finds new life in the hands of folk singer-songwriter Anaïs Mitchell. Her eight Tony Award-winning smash-hit musical Hadestown began life as a sung-through community project before she turned it into a concept album, and then a Broadway smash with help from director Rachel Chavkin. In most Greek tales, Eurydice and her Orpheus are happily married, torn apart by a cruel twist of fate: a viper’s bite (sometimes while pursued by toxic dudebro Aristaeus), not even a malicious god in disguise. As she fades into the Underworld, ruled over by Hades and his niece/abducted wife Persephone (!!!), a desolate Orpheus, son of a musical muse, plays his lyre like her life depends on it. Descending into the abyss and crossing the River Styx, he makes a...

If there's one fantasy series to rule them all, it's hard to go past The Lord of the Rings. And now, Middle-earth is about to collide with our cultural capital, with the news that The Lord of the Rings – A Musical Tale, has landed in Melbourne. Based on J.R.R. Tolkien’s beloved epic trilogy, the stage production is showing at the Comedy Theatre until June 22. This musical invites audiences to join the Hobbits on a quest, bringing Middle-earth to life with a cast of multi-skilled actor-musicians in a theatrical event that celebrates community, courage and camaraderie – featuring an original folk-inspired score.  *** Time Out Sydney reviewed The Lord of the Rings - A Musical Tale when it played at the State Theatre in January. Read on for that three-star review:   For elder Millennials like me, The Lord of the Rings franchise conjures memories of a simpler time: a time when movies were treated more like a coveted form of storytelling rather than just another option in an endless barrage of ‘content’ to ‘stream’. A time when I would go to the local cinema to watch each new instalment in the adventures of my favourite beardy boys club with my dad, who even loaded my sister and I into the car for a day trip to Sydney to check out an epic exhibition about how those epic movies were made across the ditch in New Zealand. (So many used prosthetics! So cool!) I believe that there’s elements of LOTR lore that are so inescapable that you need not have watched the movies or read the...

Way back when Tim Burton was a much weirder filmmaker, my wee brother and I were unreasonably thrilled by the chaos engine of awfully bad behaviour that was Michael Keaton’s unhinged and unwashed demon, Betelgeuse.  The grotty stripe-suited monster ate up the 1988 film of not quite the same name – the studio figured folks would stay away unless the title was simplified to Beetlejuice. Named after the red supergiant star blazing ferociously in the constellation of Orion, some 600 light years from our solar system, Betelgeuse is an outcast from the hilariously bureaucratic afterlife, aka the Netherworld. Which leaves him preying on the naïve recently deceased, like sweet young couple Adam and Barbara Maitland (Alec Baldwin and Geena Davis), in an attempt to crowbar open the sort of ridiculous loophole the Greek gods are fond of. Say his – apparently too complex – name three times and he’ll be unleashed on the mortal coil once more.  But Betelgeuse’s sleazy attentions are soon distracted by Winona Ryder’s goth child Lydia, when she reluctantly moves into Adam and Barbara’s now-empty house with her dad, Charles (disgraced actor Jeffrey Jones), and his new squeeze, OTT sculptor Delia (fabulously demented goddess Catherine O’Hara). A smash hit, Beetlejuice is a wild and unruly thing writhing with unhinged ideas, from its stop-animated black and white sand worms to characters shrunk into a model of sleepy town Winter River, and on to the hilariously-depicted dead of the surreal...

In 1984, director Trevor Nunn was doing press for Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Starlight Express when he offered the perfect maxim for a Webber fan: “Here is my money. Hit me with the experience.” Arguably none of Webber’s shows have hit harder than his 1971 rock-opera, Jesus Christ Superstar, which arrives at Melbourne’s Princess Theatre after a much-lauded run in Sydney. First revived at London’s Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre in 2016 for the show’s fiftieth anniversary, it’s been restaged in Australia by director Timothy Sheader. Sheader favours a ‘more is more’ approach, leaning into every ‘Webber-ism’ that made the show a success in the first place: rock'n'roll maximalism, near-inhuman vocal lines, emotional spectacle. No crucifix is too glittery or top note too loud. Megawatt vocals and an electric ensemble cast make it a cut above the other Webber revivals we’ve seen in the last couple years. Yet its heavy-handed approach also exposes the limits of spectacle for spectacle’s sake, even when it comes to Webber. It’s a dazzling experience, but ultimately soulless.  The curtain rises on a disassembled rock concert: amps, concert speaker boxes and microphone stands peppered around a set of towering balustrades, exposed steel beams and grating that hide the band. Set and costume Designer Tom Scutt puts us somewhere between Rent’s gritty urbanism and the steampunk simplicity of Hadestown. Meanwhile, lighting designer Lee Curran adds a splash of Mad Max to things by throwing dirty...

Melbourne, it’s time to put on some makeup and pull the wig down from the shelf – because Hedwig has finally announced plans to head on over to our wicked little town. Following a smash-hit season with Adelaide Festival, GWB Entertainment and Andrew Henry Presents have confirmed that Hedwig and the Angry Inch will unleash its raw energy at Melbourne's Athenaeum Theatre from June 13 as part of Rising. Hailed by Rolling Stone as “the best rock musical ever” and featuring a razor-sharp catalogue of songs including ‘The Origin of Love’, ‘Midnight Radio’ and ‘Sugar Daddy’, Hedwig and the Angry Inch holds a special place for many queer people and rock music devotees. The world needs the wisdom of John Cameron Mitchell’s cult masterpiece of gender-fuckery more than ever – and an arguably perfect team of local queer talents have come together to create this original Australian production. Seann Miley Moore stars as the hedonistic anti-heroine herself, Hedwig. Along with a live rock band, Moore stars opposite acclaimed actor, singer, songwriter Adam Noviello as Hedwig’s devoted yet defiant partner, Yitzhak.  The cast are in safe hands with co-directors Shane Anthony and Dino Dimitriadis along with musical director Victoria Falconer, set designer Jeremy Allen and costuming by queer fashion icons Katie-Louise and Lilian Nicol-Ford of legendary Sydney fashion house Nicol & Ford.  Hedwig and the Angry Inch will run from June 13-26. For more information and to purchase tickets, head to...

There’s the sound of gentle sobbing in the audience when Karin McCracken gets her tax return during Heartbreak Hotel. Sitting there, also gently sobbing, I tried to remember who it was that said "There are two certainties in this world: death and taxes". I also wondered if heartbreak should be included as a third certainty, or if 'death' was close enough. It takes McCracken five years to finally finish her tax return, six years to get over her previous relationship and six chords on a synth machine for her to transform those years into 75 minutes of inventive and heart-wrenching theatre. From the acclaimed Aotearoa-New Zealand-based duo EBKM, Heartbreak Hotel is the best kind of show: a conceptually rich and technically daring portrait of a break-up that blends memoir and theatre to bring just the right amount of spectacle to a universal human experience. Are overdue taxes good first date banter? No. Can heartbreak kill me? Yes. When are we ready to move on? Who knows. Why do we do this to each other? Fucked if I know. The show is structured like theatricalised autofiction – each scene a chapter in a dramatized essay on the pathologies and philosophies of love (and loss) packed with personal anecdotes, synth-backed break-up anthems and deep dives into the microbiology of heartbreak. With a heavily modulated voice and an Elvis-style lavender pantsuit, McCracken delivers moody covers of Celine Dion, Bonnie Raitt and the King himself. Each number starts off light-hearted and...