Monique Grbec

The internationally acclaimed Seven Methods of Killing Kylie Jenner is electric, must-see theatre. Full of pop culture references and contemporary drama, it speaks to the way that social media impacts our lives. Written by British playwright Jasmine Lee-Jones and co-directed by Zindzi Okenyo and Shari Sebbens, this five-star iteration elicits roaring laughter, enthusiastic clapping, quiet gasps and a standing ovation from the captivated audience. The Beckett Theatre, part of the Malthouse Theatre in Southbank, is dressed as an unassuming, low-rise living space with a bed, Besser block bookshelves and a huge suspended lightbox. In darkness, the blue light of a mobile phone illuminates Cleo (Chika Ikogwe, of recent Heartbreak High fame) aka #incognegro lying on her bed laughing and chuckling as she scrolls through her phone.  Daylight and the sweet sound of morning birdsong seeps into the scene. The high-low whistle of a Twitter notification propels Cleo out of bed to pace the room: "WTF!" The lightbox beams bright white and features the cute blue bird of the Twitter logo. The next hour-and-a-half flies by.  Forbes has declared reality TV star Kylie Jenner as the “youngest self-made billionaire” and Cleo is outraged. On a rapid-fire rampage of social activism, she slashes the myth of self-made wealth, while also confronting cultural appropriation and the fetishising of Black women.  In the vacuum of the tweetstorm, Cleo’s childhood friend Kara (Iolanthe) arrives to offer suppor

"Why did I win, when so many others lost? What’s it cost?" Ponders tennis legend Evonne Goolagong Cawley in the opening sequence of Sunshine Super Girl. This delightful play washes the audience with glorious layers of sunshine sweetness; and in return, exuberant, life-affirming positivity radiates back in the form of joy-filled laughter, loud cheering and eventually a celebratory standing ovation.  Audience engagement and the aforementioned ovation are testimony to the visionary talent of writer-director Andrea James. Uplifting vignettes of family escapades and a supportive community pull at the heart strings, while the seamless fluidity of performance, set, wardrobe, lighting and sound is buoyed by the audience’s pride and relief that in 2022 the dark age of racism that Goolagong Cawley experienced has evolved – and our contemporary society is making progress toward the light of racial equality. The Melbourne Theatre Company's Southbank Theatre auditorium is extended beyond the stage and divided in two halves, with a desert-red clay tennis court in the centre. Set and costume designer Romanie Harper presents a ’70s and ’80s-inspired stylised tennis glamour that could easily grace the pages of a high-end fashion magazine. With support from video media designer Mic Gruchy, live-action landscapes carpet the stage and transport the narrative through time and place: from the clay tennis court to the manicured green grass courts of Wimbledon; and to the gentle ripples of the backw

With new music by Tim Finn, and lyrics by Finn and director Simon Phillips, Come Rain orCome Shine is a romantic farce that pays homage to sing-along Broadway musical theatreand the Great American Songbook canon. In a humble share flat, humanities major Ray (Angus Grant) kneels before his record player to listen to his latest treasure, the 1959 Ray Charles version of 'Come Rain or Come Shine'. This Melbourne Theatre Company production of the same name, based on Nobel laureate Kazuo Ishiguro’s short story, reveals the antonymous relationship of rain and sunshine through a love triangle and the tempo of time. Ray swoons to the broody beauty of the music and the promise of love to come, as the arrival of vivacious economic student Emily (Gillian Cosgriff), a classmate of his housemate Charlie (Chris Ryan), is set to light up Ray’s life. Dressed in a rainbow of brightly coloured stripes, Emily shares his passion for the same Golden Age of early 20th-century music. Ray is smitten. However, the rakish and charming Charlie prefers upbeat contemporary music like The Knack’s 'My Sharona'. Emily is mesmerised by his hip thrusting dance skills. After graduation, they marry and move away to officially start their adult life. Thirty years later, as the trio enter middle age, Ray leaves a housemate, alcoholic girlfriend,and low tech flat in a nightlife district in Spain, to visit the couple in Hotel Bayswater – theirminimalist, luxury home. This transition from a cosy share flat to a sleek

There are 206 bones in the human body – and The Return gives you at least that many “aha” moments, with plenty of extra humour to tickle your funny bone. A masterfully written dark comedy penned by Torres Strait playwright John Harvey and performed by a thrilling ensemble of six First Nations actors, this powerful and provocative show is a memorable experience that captures the wobbly highwire between time and place to reveal the grotesque and unethical market for Aboriginal remains. As the audience enter the theatre, we are greeted with Zoë Atkinson's set: a large black mound that glistens with fertility. In the foreground, a small fire flickers, circled by brown twigs. It burns brightly and the plumes of smoke waft gently upward. Birdsong and the sound of trickling water create a peaceful ambience that is energised by voice chants and clapsticks keeping rhythm in Jethro Woodward's soundscape. We are welcomed to this fertile Country. Waa (Crow) calls, and a baby is born. A person in a white shirt and white gloves climbs the mound to remove the campfire, revealing a nest with three small eggs. The eggs symbolise the baby born, and the three timeframes and narratives that weave throughout The Return. The first narrative revolves around The 'Museum of Origins', its role in trafficking stolenartifacts, and the conflict between culture and capitalism. The show opens with the delivery of a box of human bones, a siren sounds, and we find ‘the Natives’ getting ready to perform. Jack