Charlotte Smee

There is a lot happening on Sydney's stages each and every month. But how do you even know where to start? Thankfully, our critics are out road-testing musicals, plays, operas, dance, cabaret and more all year round. Here are their recommendations. Want more culture? Check out the best art exhibitions in Sydney.

Every January, Sydney Festival arrives to kick off the city's arts and culture calendar with a massive helping of shows, gigs and immersive experiences. In 2025, we have an eclectic grab bag of more than 130 things to choose from, including critically-acclaimed productions from overseas (such as a subversive spaghetti western performed in “white face”) and wild new work from local artists (including the premiere of an unauthorised opera about Siegfried and Roy) in addition to some phenomenal live music in beautiful spaces. So, what are the performances that you absolutely cannot miss? And which ones will we still be ranting about for years to come? Time Out Sydney's squadron of independent critics are on the case, and they’re out there seeing as many shows as they possibly can this January. You can see our 13 top picks for the best shows to see during Syd Fest '25 over here, and check out our rolling list of festival reviews below. (Note: These “mini reviews” are shorter than the critical commentary that we typically publish, but they still offer honest, rigorous observations and critiques from reliable theatre enthusiasts and live music veterans.)

Hey Sydney, wanna get weird? The Sydney Fringe Festival (aka the state’s largest independent arts festival) is painting the town pink for the month of September – with 400 events spilling across several festival hubs, from grand stages to Spiegeltents, to gardens of delight and pop-up stages in unusual spaces.  The dynamic program spans theatre, music, comedy, visual art, film, musical theatre, dance, circus, street festivals, literature and poetry. Quite honestly, it’s a lot to take in. But our reliable bright-pink critic is on the case! This month, Charlotte Smee is out and about, checking out some of the most experimental, wonderful and strange shows on the Fringe circuit. Read on for their rolling list of festival highlights, and check out our other festival picks over here. Want more entertainment? Check out our guide to the other shows on Sydney stages.

Opera Australia’s new world-first outdoor production of Carmen is thoroughly ambitious in more ways than one – it aims to give the artform of opera a modern, feminist, punk-rock makeover. The scene is set on a huge industrial stage on Cockatoo Island (a 15-minute ferry ride from the city), complete with dazzling fireworks, motorcycle stunts and pop-up bars. Director Liesel Badorrek places the action in a timeless “rock’n’roll space” that encapsulates rebellion and anti-establishment sentiment. This new production aims to rebel against its problematic past, bringing a new, strong, independent Carmen to the stage – as sung alternately by Opera Australia’s principal mezzo soprano Sian Sharp and Carmen Topciu. As self-professed theatre and opera nerds, Time Out was excited to speak to Badorrek and Sharp about how they’re looking to change the opera game, one rock’n’roll Carmen at a time. First, we had a chat about our mutual love of opera, and theatre, those wonderful, live participatory art forms... What is it that you love about opera?  Sian: When people experience operatic singing unamplified it is a very powerful experience that can really cut you to the quick. There's a connection there that is sometimes not achieved [with other art forms]... the power of the voice to reach out across an orchestra and hit the back wall of a 2,000-seat theatre is quite a feat. Liesel: That combination of the orchestral music and the vocals is so beautiful, it's incredibly powerful emotionally

Tanya and Annie are in love. Tanya and Annie are terribly young. Tanya and Annie met in jail. Their love story is certainly not a fairy tale, and there aren’t many people around to teach them the best way to take care of each other. But in spite of the unloving world they live in, Tanya and Annie make a pact to love each other. They make plans – to get a house, to go somewhere new, maybe even to get a dog – but only after they’ve made a little money. But when Tanya finds herself back in jail, Annie latches onto Lorenzo. Lorenzo claims to love Annie, but he might be more in love with the drugs she brings him. Patricia Cornelius (Do Not Go Gentle), multi-award-winning playwright and founding member of Melbourne Workers Theatre, brings her signature knack for sparse, direct, and quietly poetic dialogue to this uncomfortable love triangle.  Penned in 2004, Love is an understated play that tells a story about people who aren’t usually given a place on Australian stages, leaving the audience to form their own opinions or judgements. 21 years later, Megan Sampson directs this new production presented by New Ghosts Theatre Company, which slides into the Late Night slot at the Old Fitz (alongside another piercing story of class struggle, Iphigenia in Splott, in the Mainstage session). The piece is as important and confronting as ever, but working with such a raw, sparse text is a delicate procedure.  Georgia-Paige Theodos plays Tanya, the butch protector, with a quiet devotion, her de

Some stories are too ridiculous to be fiction. Furious Mattress, a surreal collision of true crime and religious fervour from lauded Australian playwright Melissa Reeves (co-writer of the multi-award-winning Who’s Afraid of the Working Class), is based on one of those stories. In this case, Victorian woman Joan Vollmer was inadvertently killed by her husband Ralph and two of their fundamentalist neighbours as the result of a four-day “exorcism”. Joan’s husband believed she had been possessed by a demon, despite her history with schizophrenia. And no, this didn’t happen in the 1800s, or even the early 1900s – it happened in 1993. A surreal recreation of Joan Vollmer’s story laced with dark humour and a clever circular story structure, Reeves’ play finally makes its highly anticipated Sydney premiere at Belvoir 25a, presented by Legit Theatre Co (Dumb Kids, Misery Loves Company). We begin at the end, with husband Pierce and his pious neighbour Anna praying and singing over the suspiciously still body of his wife, Else. What follows is the sometimes terrifying, sometimes hilarious attempt to rid Else’s body of demons – at first depicted in a naturalist style, and then warping and melding into unreality.  Pierce (Julian Garner) and Anna (Alex Malone) are both played with a heightened sense of Australiana: broad accents, dry humour, and constant observations of the heat. Meanwhile, plumber-turned-exorcist Max (Shan-Ree Tan) is gruff and awful, and his vulnerability quickly becomes

The fathers of modern musical theatre, Gilbert and Sullivan’s very silly (and very clever) songs from over a century ago have influenced everything from modern political parody to the work of Stephen Sondheim and Lin-Manuel Miranda. Their approach to storytelling and grand musical humour included, most importantly: bringing absurd premises to their “logical” conclusions, employing and supporting amateur actors, and parodying important composers and writers of their time in order to make them accessible to middle class punters.  In Sydney, the Hayes Theatre Co brings a similar spirit to its theatremaking – from supporting emerging artists, to providing a place for the modern musical to entertain and provoke larger discussions about the ridiculousness of being alive. So, it makes a lot of sense that Richard Carroll (co-artistic director of the Hayes) would bring us a swashbuckling new take on Gilbert and Sullivan’s most popular operetta (or musical, before musicals were conceived of) – The Pirates of Penzance; or, The Slave of Duty.  As director and adaptor, Carroll continues Gilbert and Sullivan’s grand tradition of silliness,  shrinking The Pirates of Penzance down to a very Hayes size, with a plucky cast of just five actors (for reference, most productions would usually have a cast of around 20) – along with some precarious participation from the audience members who find themselves seated amidst the action. The result? A playful, stripped back show that leaves everyone wear

The genre-defying, multi-award-winning, smash-hit Broadway sensation, Hadestown has finally made its way down to Sydneytown – and it’s unlike any musical you’ve ever seen or heard. With industrial steampunk aesthetics, a soulful jazz-folk fusion, and even a comment on our dying world, this is a brave new world for musical theatre. The Down Under debut of Hadestown opened at the Theatre Royal Sydney to a ready-made fanbase. There’s a lot of hype surrounding this show – the Broadway production picked up eight Tony Awards (including Best Musical for 2019) and still plays to packed houses today, and there’s also the highly successful West End production and the North American tour.  An incisive adaptation of the age-old myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, Hadestown is the brainchild of indie-folk musician Anaïs Mitchell (with very clear influences from Justin Vernon, aka Bon Iver, who appeared on the 2010 studio album). It started its life as a song cycle, and then a studio album, and now it’s a fully-formed stage musical with a dedicated international following. Hadestown is a spectacular challenge to what we think a musical is and can be Like many fans, I discovered Hadestown via the studio album and the Broadway recording. With such a strong, atmospheric tone, the music doesn’t even need visuals to shine – featuring everything from chugging vocal sounds, deep growling singing, floating falsettos, muted trombones, a train whistle, and heavy acoustic guitars. Hadestown is the musical

Karen and Martha run a boarding school together, and have known each other since they were 17 years old. Karen is about to marry local doctor Joe, and Martha has never been interested in men. Meanwhile, when troubled young student Mary feels she’s been punished one too many times, she spins a story to her doting grandmother, and this lie turns the whole town against suspected lovers Karen and Martha.  A fascinating piece of queer dramatic history based on a true story, The Children’s Hour was the first play from legendary American playwright Lillian Hellman. It premiered on Broadway in 1934, a time when the mention of homosexuality on stage was illegal in New York State. Despite the fact that it played 691 shows to eager audiences, it was banned from performance in London, Boston and Chicago. This new version directed by Kim Hardwick in the intimate Old Fitz Theatre is compelling and important viewing.  A brilliant and heartbreaking play... Jess Bell is a standout amongst a strong cast of 13 actors – she plays a conflicted and tender Martha with expert detail, right down to her nervous facial expressions and constantly wringing hands. A cast of young schoolgirls also gives brilliant performances alongside their adult counterparts, who can’t seem to grasp their own righteousness.  Setting, lighting and costume design are kept simple, rightfully placing the focus on the emotion of the piece, and the people at the centre of the scandal. The Children’s Hour is a brilliant and h

Director Patrick Kennedy (Sophia=(Wisdom) Part 3: The Cliffs) brings his signature surrealist style to this punk retelling of the 1889 Cleveland Street Scandal from British playwright James Fritz at the New Theatre. The play reimagines the scandal – in which a secret gay brothel, frequented by a number of gentlemen and staffed by post boys, was discovered in 19th-century London – as a collage of scenes between aristocrats, arrested post boy Charlie and his mother Emily, and even glimpses into Queen Victoria’s conversations with God.  This production is stuffed with visual delights – a looming, cartoonish figure of Queen Vic keeps a watchful eye over the play’s events as four video screens keep track of place and time, and a warped Union Jack is slung in the back corner of the stage.  The story is fast-paced (for the most part) and engaging, although it can become somewhat repetitive. The combination of such a rich visual language with hefty dialogue is also a lot to take in, with little room for reprieve during the show’s almost three-hour runtime. Still, this is exciting theatremaking for a Sydney stage, and it is well worth a watch, especially for the unfaithful revisionist approach to our gay history. The Flea is a fitting reminder of queer history, and the struggles we still face, as the Sydney Mardi Gras Festival’s series of cultural events starts to rainbow-ify the city. The Flea is playing at New Theatre, Newtown, until March 8. Find tickets & info over here. Stay in

I’ve never been shy to admit that Elf is my favourite Christmas movie. I first saw the 2003 film at the cinema with my after school drama teacher who needed a child to take to a “kids‘” movie, and I’ve rewatched it almost every year since. It’s a perfect festive treat for many reasons, and much of them can be attributed to Will Ferrell’s endearing performance as the suspiciously-tall Buddy the Elf, and the surprising amount of nuance and heart poured into a story about convincing a bunch of stony-faced New Yorkers to believe in the magic of Santa. It’s a bit of a shame then, to head along to the Australian premiere of Elf: The Musical at the Sydney Opera House with literal bells on, as a musical fanatic, to find that they’ve over-sweetened the syrupy musical numbers, and all but lost the secret sauce that brings depth to the film. Of course, musical-ifying something always requires a certain degree of glitz, and this production is endearing in its own way – but unfortunately, Elf: The Musical makes some unimaginative choices, which can leave you with an artificially-sweet aftertaste. The book, by Bob Martin and Thomas Meehan, removes Papa Elf from the cast of characters (the lovable old elf who “forgot” to have children, and raised Buddy as his own) and instead has Santa Claus narrate the story. As Santa kicks off the show, there are hints that we may be in for some meta-theatrical, interactive panto fun. However, this isn’t developed any further, and Santa’s distaste for his

Navigating conversations with your parents at Christmastime can be difficult for a whole host of reasons. You might find it so difficult, in fact, that you’ve decided not to talk to your parents at all. In Snowflake from British playwright Mike Bartlett (Albion), this is what Maya (Claudia Elbourne) has decided to do for the past three years in a row. But this Christmas, she's coming home. However, Maya’s side of the story isn’t the first thing we hear. In a clever twist, Bartlett focuses on Maya’s father, Andy (James Lugton, as seen in Aussie television’s The Twelve). Andy tells us about all the reasons he thinks Maya could have left:his wife’s recent passing, his impulsive decision to throw out all the Christmas decorations in a grief-stricken panic, and his inability to talk to her about a whole host of things. He also shows us all the effort he’s put in to welcome Maya back: hiring the town hall, covering it in Christmas decorations, and even making a model of their family home. It’s a great narrative device that gently brings you into the world of the play, humanising Andy at the same time. Lugton plays Andy with a gruff charm that quickly makes you forget you’re supposed to hate this estranged father figure.  Jo Bradley deftly directs this production, and in the first monologue scenes she brings a great variety by placing Lugton at various levels of the town hall, and using subtle lighting changes to assist changes in mood or pacing. Set design by Soham Apte is similarl

Norwegian playwright Henrik Ibsen’s revered 1891 play, Hedda Gabler, is a monumental work, in many senses. With a runtime of around two hours (and multiple gunshots) it’s the typical 19th-century melodrama. But instead of a tragically ambitious king at its centre, there’s a woman who can’t quite escape the bonds of her society. (Sometimes, it’s described as “the female version of Hamlet”.) Prominent local director, dramaturge, and teacher Anthony Skuse directs and adapts a brand new, condensed version (with the perfect runtime of about 95 minutes, no interval) on the catwalk-like traverse stage of KXT on Broadway.  This version isn’t really about Hedda, though. Instead, Skuse places the action in the laps of the audience – with four golden seats scattered in the front rows reserved for the actors, and set pieces arranged uncomfortably close to our feet. The set design by James Smithers (who also plays Hedda’s husband, JørgenTesman) is simple, leaving wide empty spaces for the actors to inhabit. A piano and its maid (composer and pianist Christie May) haunt the corner of the stage, mirrors line the walls, and flowers and books are strewn everywhere. It’s an imposing image, stripped of all the gilded fancy of Hedda’s huge mansion, a home in which she feels just as trapped as her unwanted marriage. Ella Prince (they/them) plays the titular anti-heroine, their blonde pixie cut and silk pyjamas hinting at an androgynous take on the classic character. Her new husband, Tesman, sport

There’s nothing more sapphic than yearning. The internet age is ripe for it, too. Meeting a stranger you’ve never seen in real life and falling head over heels for them is just about the gayest thing you could do. (Aside from, maybe, threatening to blow up the world over a failed relationship.) The global debut of Flat Earthers: The Musical is as sapphic as it gets. Two young lovers meet through a screen – Ria (Shannen Alyce Quan) is a “Debunker”, a member of an exclusive clique of YouTube stars devoted to debunking conspiracy theories and putting weirdos in their place. But Ria’s values are called into question when she e-meets Flick (Manali Datar). The pair of star-cross’d lesbians quickly go from sliding into the DMs to falling into analogue love. The thing is, Flick lives in a bunker with her two mums – Fiona/Ma and Freya/Mum (Lena Cruz and Amanda McGregor) – who’ve brought her underground because, well, they’re flat-earthers. (Read: they firmly, frantically believe that the government is hiding the fact that the Earth is flat.) With huge energy, an unapologetic commitment to being chronically online, and wheezing laughs, Flat Earthers is best described as batshit crazy Written and composed by Jean Tong, Lou Wall and James Gale, this new Australian musical is absolutely, fabulously, committed to the bit. The writing trio have a number of impressive credits between them, including Netflix hit Heartbreak High (Tong); Romeo is Not the Only Fruit (featuring yet more star-cro

The biggest (fictional) boy band in the world, the Fuccbois, is finally appearing in the tiniest stadium (basement theatre) in Sydney: the Old Fitz. Brandon, Brendan, and also Brendan and Tyler make up the hottest, silliest boy band (featuring absolutely no actual boys) you’ve ever seen. This indie production’s world premiere is directed by Jessica Fallico with book, lyrics and music by Bridie Connell (who also performs as art-school-soft-boi Brandon). Fuccbois is a concert inside a musical. Kind of like that 2016 mockumentary, Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping, but with the added bonus of four women in masculine drag, the show is set at the final concert of the band’s farewell tour – complete with reminiscing, solo career announcements, and a snort-inducing segment on “the Fuccbois give back”. The music is loud, fun, and a perfect pastiche of all your favourite boy bands – and the lyrics are hilariously clever, to boot. Exploring the fuccboi stereotype in musical form is a simple premise, which allows for some hilariously clever moments of choreography, audience interaction, and cheeky little asides that make the show so much more than just a silly concert. Connell’s Brandon is sensitive and awful, Gabbi Bolt as Brendan is, well, Irish (to be sure), Megan Walshe as Tyler is lanky and ridiculous, and Clara Harrison as also Brendan might have more depth than you think he does. They’re all fantastic performers, with great pop vocals running all over the place. As the bois’ sta

The latest piece from Emily Ayoub and Madeline Baghurst’s Clockfire Theatre Co, Ruins أطلال is a timely 45-minute adventure from Australia to Lebanon, both physical and metaphorical.  Amelia (Ayoub) and her father, Joe (Tony Poli), are planning a trip to their ancestral home, the ancient city of Baalbek in Lebanon's Beqaa Valley. But before they can go on their trip, Joe suddenly passes away. Grief-stricken, Amelia decides to take the trip without him. What follows is a dreamy series of images and a meditation on ancestry, legacy, migration, and what it means to return to a place that you don’t remember. The characters in the piece are creatively rendered – Amelia’s daughter appears only through voiceover; an onstage flautist (alternately Jessica Scott and Gianna Cheung) becomes the winds and sands of time; and an ensemble of three (Baghurst with Adam Al Kuheli and Piumu Wijesundara) takes many shapes, from both the mortal realm and beyond. Throughout the piece, Joe appears as a ghostly presence, and his little “asides” to the story bring great emotional depth.  Theatrical imagery is one of Clockfire’s strengths (their Sydney Fringe hit Plenty of Fish in the Sea comes to mind) and the minimalist use of props to create winding hallways, an archeological dig, and a hotel lobby among other things, is impressive. The issues brought to light in Ruins are heightened by the fact that, at the same time as this debut season, Baalbek is under fire by the Israeli military (and this is n