

Articles (10)

Where to sit in Melbourne's theatres
Melbourne is blessed with a wealth of theatres, from the grand old dames like the Princess Theatre to the kooky hidden gems like the Butterfly Club; no city in Australia can lay claim to as many in as good a condition as ours. But inside those venues, not all seats are created equal. Sure, there are some shows so spectacular and unmissable youâd happily sit anywhere, but most experiences in the theatre can be augmented by the best seats in the house. And occasionally ruined by the worst. So, without further ado, we give them to you. RECOMMENDED: How to score cheap theatre tickets in Melbourne.

Angels and demons: The Phantom of the Opera stars on reviving a problematic masterpiece
In a moment of cultural reckoning, where classic works are coming under renewed critical reappraisal, it might seem a little risky to remount Andrew Lloyd Webberâs Phantom of the Opera. It does, after all, tell the story of a murderous ghoul who stalks, isolates and threatens a young woman in a basement because heâs obsessed with her talent; it debuted on Londonâs West End back in 1986, when gender politics looked vastly different. It is a risk worth taking, though, according to stars Josh Piterman and Amy Manford, who are about to bring a completely new production of the gothic masterwork to Melbourne. Having played the Phantom and his muse Christine in previous productions around the world, theyâve had plenty of time to contemplate the nuances of their charactersâ problematic psycho-sexual relationship. Photograph: Daniel Boud âThis happens in the real world,â Manford tells us when we catch up with the pair as they prepare to open at Arts Centre Melbourneâs State Theatre. âPeople are abusers, and women are subject to this kind of behaviour.â She isnât necessarily referring to the masks, mirrors and subterranean music lessons, but to the culture of coercion women are subject to in the wider world. Piterman picks up on this point immediately. âWhat weâre doing on stage is holding up a mirror to society. If we were to dilute and sanitise that, I assure you the demons of the world will continue to [abuse women] and weâre not going to be able to see it. And that is even more d

Secret arts spaces in Melbourne
It might seem that hiding your theatres and galleries in out-of-the-way places would be bad for business â given the size and dominance of the NGV, or the Princess and Regent theatres, itâs a sentiment previous architects and impresarios clearly agreed with. And of course Melbourne's famous street art is about as visible as you can get. But it turns out hiding your bushel can be very good for arts and showbusiness, not to mention cultural cachĂ©. Here are some of the harder to find theatres and galleries dotted inconspicuously around the city. Recommended: the best art exhibitions in Melbourne this month.

The 8 best things we saw at the Melbourne Festival
For 18 days in October, hundreds of artists from Australia and many other nations converged on the city. They brought theatre, dance, music, visual art and live art to Melbourneâs performance spaces, streets, laneways and even hair salons. They surprised, delighted and challenged audiences. And now, as quickly as they appeared, they are gone. In his Melbourne Festival debut, artistic director Jonathan Holloway (formerly the artistic director of the Perth International Arts Festival) took a number of risks. While he kept some important festival traditions (Ilbijerri Theatre Companyâs Welcome to Country ceremony Tanderrum, most importantly), he decided to scrap the riverside festival hum. He programmed a number of pieces that were highly participatory, including the live-art-meets-game-show The Money and Haircuts by Children (exactly what you think it is). Hugely successful shows from overseas (Robert Lepageâs 887) shared space on the program with new commissions from local companies (Back to Backâs Lady Eats Apple), and the grand (David Bowie: Nothing Has Changed) was counterbalanced with the intimate (Collisions). Numbers-wise, Hollowayâs risks paid off: tickets became very scarce towards the end of the festival, and takings are reported at $2.9 million (higher than the target organisers set themselves). But which were the shows that got our criticsâ hearts pumping? Here, we present our eight most memorable Melbourne Festival moments. Having festival withdrawals? Check out th

Ray Chong Nee on playing the title role in Othello
If Hamlet was right, and the stage is a mirror held up to nature, then why is our reflection so white? In a multicultural society like Australiaâs, it is shameful that our theatre doesnât genuinely reflect our racial diversity. Othello remains by far the least performed of Shakespeareâs tragedies in this country. Weâre kidding ourselves if we think this isnât symptomatic of a great unease. Ray Chong Nee is a Samoan Australian, and has found the sheer fact of being cast as the Moor in Bell Shakespeareâs upcoming production (directed by the company's artistic director Peter Evans) something of a wake-up call. âWhen I was younger, I used to wish I was Caucasian. Looking at Othello has made me more proud of the skin Iâm in, but also more aware of the tyranny of otherness.â Othello might be the noblest of generals, expansive and loyal, but there is a sense that he will never really belong; itâs something heâs internalised, and something his subordinate Iago (played here by Yalin Ozucelik) will exploit to the great manâs ruin. Itâs not something that Chong Nee has to conjure in rehearsal.âIâve had racism hurled at me. I thought when I was 14 that everything was cool, that I was accepted in this country. And then this car went by and someone yelled âGo home, you fucking n*****!â It was my reality check; youâve got dark skin.â Othelloâs skin colour has been a highly contested subject from the beginning. The Moors were traditionally differentiated by religion as much as race, although

Author Craig Silvey on the Jasper Jones theatre adaptation
Few people get to experience the surreality of sitting in a darkened theatre watching their own imagination come into being. Itâs an experience author Craig Silvey has been grappling with a lot lately. MTCâs stage adaptation of his novel Jasper Jones hits townafter two previous productions in Perth and Sydney, and he still isnât used to the uncanny sensations evoked.âThat initial opening night in Perth was the most profoundly moving experience. But it was also really odd, like being inside this strange dream. I know these characters so intimately, theyâre a part of me, so to see it acted out in front of me was hard to describe. Itâs been really emotional, actually.âSilvey's novel â which filters narratives like To Kill a Mockingbird and Huckleberry Finn through a distinctly Australian lens â is the story of a young man on the precipice of adulthood drawn unwittingly into the predicament of a local Aboriginal boy. John Sheedy, of Perth-based company Barking Gecko, was the first to realise its potential for the stage, and commissioned Kate Mulvany to adapt it. Mulvany has form in adaptation, having brought the childrenâs picture book Masquerade to the Melbourne stage recently, and Silvey describes her as âeminently qualified. I think sheâs a genius.â The sense that Silvey had to pass his baby on to her was important for both of them. âThe book had been in the public domain for a long time by then, and I felt this new work for the stage had to be hers as much as mine.âCertainly,

What's on stage in August
Feel-good musicals, dark comedies and immersive drama: August is full of great shows this month.

Ray Chong Nee on playing the title role in Othello
If Hamlet was right, and the stage is a mirror held up to nature, then why is our reflection so white? In a multicultural society like Australiaâs, it is shameful that our theatre doesnât genuinely reflect our racial diversity. Othello remains by far the least performed of Shakespeareâs tragedies in this country. Weâre kidding ourselves if we think this isnât symptomatic of a great unease. Ray Chong Nee is a Samoan Australian, and has found the sheer fact of being cast as the Moor in Bell Shakespeareâs upcoming production (directed by the company's artistic director Peter Evans) something of a wake-up call. âWhen I was younger, I used to wish I was Caucasian. Looking at Othello has made me more proud of the skin Iâm in, but also more aware of the tyranny of otherness.â Othello might be the noblest of generals, expansive and loyal, but there is a sense that he will never really belong; itâs something heâs internalised, and something his subordinate Iago (played here by Yalin Ozucelik) will exploit to the great manâs ruin. Itâs not something that Chong Nee has to conjure in rehearsal.âIâve had racism hurled at me. I thought when I was 14 that everything was cool, that I was accepted in this country. And then this car went by and someone yelled âGo home, you fucking n*****!â It was my reality check; youâve got dark skin.â Othelloâs skin colour has been a highly contested subject from the beginning. The Moors were traditionally differentiated by religion as much as race, although

Melbourne Theatre Company 2016 season
âThemes can be a straightjacketâ, says MTC artistic director Brett Sheehy, âand usually they are so broad theyâre meaningless.â Itâs a sentiment that bears out in his 2016 program, which is so diverse and multi-faceted that a search for thematic links feels futile. âIf Iâve tried to do anything, itâs that all the work should feel contemporary. Itâs got to be art of our time.â âšâš Certainly many of the plays on offer deal directly with contemporary issues. British playwright Duncan Macmillanâs Lungs (Feb 5-Mar 19) is set in Ikea and concerns itself with the problem of procreation in an already over-populated world. Ayad Akhtarâs Disgraced (Aug 19-Oct 1) deals with Islamophobia in upper-middle-class New York. Deborah Bruceâs The Distance (Mar 5-Apr 9) tackles motherhood, in a modern iteration of Ibsenâs A Dollâs House. âšâšEven the classic plays in the program, according to Sheehy, will speak directly to contemporary concerns. While it may be tempting to see the programming of David Hareâs Skylight (Jun 18-Jul 23) or Neil Simonâs The Odd Couple (Nov 5-Dec 17) as exercises in pure nostalgia, Sheehy is adamant that they will reflect audiencesâ current preoccupations.âšâš âI donât think itâs good enough for us to say, âClassics are valid because their themes are universalâ. It has to puncture the audienceâs universe in a specific and deliberate way.â Quite how odd couple Felix and Oscar will do this remains to be seen, although the casting of Shaun Micallef and Francis Greenslade will

Meet Miss Trunchbull from Matilda the Musical
Some musicals have helicopters and some get by on giant shoulder pads. Matilda â opening in Melbourne in March 2016 â may not be as visually spectacular as the behemoths of past decades, but it does boast the best villain. Miss Trunchbull â the Olympic hammer-thrower turned monstrous school principle of Roald Dahlâs iconic novel â is played on stage by the fresh-faced James Millar, looking as far removed from monstrosity as possible, as he casually pieces together a large jigsaw puzzle in the rehearsal space of Sydneyâs Lyric Theatre. âAt first it felt like the costume was riding me,â Millar confesses. âA hump thatâs up here, and a chest thatâs out there. You have to renegotiate yourself so that youâre on top of the costume rather than it being on top of you.â It wasnât the only thing he needed to be on top of. In an industry thatâs lucky to have two weeks of rehearsal, Millar endured seven months of auditions. Trunchbull requires an unusual skill set, given that she tosses children by their pigtails, leaps from a vault and performs a ribbon dance. âNot many actors come with a ribbon dance in them. So there was a lot of time between each call back to learn those skills.â While casting a man as Miss Trunchbull taps into the English pantomime tradition, Millar doesnât âgo out there actively playing a woman. Her attributes, particularly her aggression, are almost entirely masculineâ. Of course, she meets her match in Matilda, the girl with genius behind her eyes and tricks up he
Listings and reviews (26)

Much Ado About Nothing
Many directors, not to mention audience members, like to think of Much Ado About Nothing as a prototypical rom-com â the one about the bickering pair who think they hate each other, whose friends trick them into the realisation theyâre the perfect couple. And there are benefits to this approach in performance: the play has a breezy rambunctiousness when Beatrice and Benedick are the central focus and an uncomplicated ending. The lovers fall madly in love. But Much Ado has a darker side, and over the years, it has threatened to eclipse the sun in Medina, the playâs ostensibly Italian and yet still-very-English setting. Because really, Beatrice (Anna Burgess) and Benedick (Nicholas Gell) are the subplot, and the true action revolves around Hero (Larissa Teale) and Claudio (Alex Cooper), the lovers whose path to happiness is far thornier, and leaves a distinctly bitter taste in the mouth. Shakespeareâs works are divided into histories, comedies and tragedies in the First Folio, but they rarely conform neatly to these categories. Much Ado is defined by its tonal instability and shifting dramatic modes. There are long stretches of the play that feel like a sophisticated comedy of manners and other sections that seem like a pure farce. The Hero/Claudio plot is, as one character says in this funny and irreverent production, âa real downerâ, but it is also key to the playâs meaning. The action takes place immediately after a war, and although far from enjoying a well-deserved peace,

The Phantom of the Opera
The story of an opera house haunted by a musical genius, who falls in love with a chorus girl and elevates her to stardom. It was a combination of schlock, syrup and superior showmanship, and it has haunted the musical theatre world ever since. The Phantom of the Opera is unavoidable, one definition of the art form itself; slick, populist and crashingly unsubtle, it nevertheless has a strange power to enthral.This production, billed as a new iteration from producer Cameron Mackintosh rather than composer Andrew Lloyd Webber â the labyrinthine corporate negotiations that underpin a show of this magnitude would fill an episode of Succession â is no carbon copy of the original. Like Mackintoshâs recent revival of Les Miserables, it has been entirely redesigned and restaged. Some changes are massive, and massively risky; others are more a matter of emphasis.Perhaps the riskiest alterations are to do with the set design. Original designer Maria Björnson has since died, and Mackintosh employed Paul Brown to come up with a different aesthetic along with simplified sets suitable for touring. The problem is that certain theatrical effects â the chandelier, the Paris Opera House staircase, the black lacquered lake lit by giant candelabra â have become iconic and are now part of the fabric of the show, as much key signifiers as the Phantomâs mask. To do away with them, or minimise their efficacy, threatens to destabilise the whole show.It isnât all loss, though. Downplaying the spectacl

Girls and Boys
There have been many terrific solo female plays, and many of them performed at Melbourne Theatre Company over the years. Amanda Muggleton was an irrepressible Shirley Valentine in the old Russell St theatre; Robyn Nevin tore up the boards as Joan Didion in The Year of Magical Thinking; and next year Sheridan Harbridge brings her celebrated performance in Prima Facie and Judith Lucy turns to Beckettâs masterpiece and ostensible monologue, Happy Days. In the meantime, we have to be content with UK playwright Dennis Kellyâs less stellar effort, Girls & Boys. Like Prima Facie, this play seems ripped from the headlines, and benefits from our awareness that these things are happening all around us, and do indeed speak to contemporary concerns. But unlike Suzie Millerâs searing portrait of sexual injustice in the legal system, Girls & Boys feels decidedly academic, like a Ted Talk from someone whoâs merely read about the issue in the morning paper. Thereâs no sense that Kelly has any skin in the game. Nikki Shiels is one of the countryâs most exciting actors, but even she feels emotionally remote here. The character she plays has no name, and neither does the husband who provides the playâs animus and is the key to a tragedy the playwright keeps far too long in reserve. In fact, the only people who are named â apart from a brief moment of inattention where the name of the protagonistâs boss is dropped â are the coupleâs two children, Leanne and Danny. This ambivalence around specifi

Instruments of Dance
What are the instruments of the dance? Australian Ballet artistic director David Hallberg tells us before the curtain comes up on the companyâs new triple bill; in an echo of Peter Brookâs philosophy in The Empty Space, only the music and the dancerâs body are required â although US choreographer William Forsythe once demonstrated (on the same stage) that you donât even need music. A triptych of contemporary choreographic works, Instruments of Dance is one of those nights at the theatre that Australian Ballet do so well. If the pieces arenât all of a certain quality, they are individually engaging and beautifully demonstrate the companyâs depth of talent. They also speak to each other in fascinating ways, juxtaposing artistic ideas while niggling at the edges of the cultural zeitgeist. The evening opens with UK choreographer Wayne McGregorâs Obsidian Tear, a chilling exploration of male violence and homosocial tyranny that recalls everything from Cain and Abel to Lord of the Flies. It begins with an extended pas de deux (danced magnificently by Callum Linnane and Adam Elmes) that ranges from the playful to the dangerous, as brotherly affection sours into suspicion and one-upmanship. Those notes of brutality come to sinister fruition when the stage fills with seven more male dancers led by a savage Adam Bull, who uses his considerable stage presence to forceful and intimidating effect. McGregorâs work here is miles away from the all-male gimmickry of Matthew Bourne; queerness

9 to 5 the Musical
At the very end of 9 to 5: The Musical, Dolly Parton herself (who has been appearing on stage throughout via a recorded video projection) tells the audience who liked the show to spread the word as widely as they can. She then tells those who didnât to âkeep your mouth shutâ. Itâs a joke, of course, but it has that whiff of naked aggression that tends to sit under the surface of all that southern gentility. This is a musical that doesnât just beg you to like it, it threatens to shove a gag in your mouth if you donât. So perhaps, in the spirit of politesse, we should start by talking about the things that work in this musical adaptation of the 1980 film. This is the story of three women employed in the corporatised world of high finance who plot revenge on their conceited, abusively misogynist boss. It starts with the eponymous song Parton wrote for the film, a peppy zinger that neatly establishes a mood of bright, satirical fun. If the rest of the songs â written by Parton specifically for this version â donât match up, '9 to 5' itself proves enough of an earworm to have you singing long after the curtain falls. The ensemble, under the original direction of Jeff Calhoun, are terrific; Lisa Stevensâ slick, perky Broadway choreography is delivered with precision and real heart, and every number that requires the entire cast comes vibrantly to life. The three leads are also excellent: Marina Prior is Violet Newstead, the office gun consistently overlooked for promotion; Erin Cla

The Sound Inside
âListen to the sound insideâ. Itâs a sentence that suddenly occurs to Bella Lee Baird (Catherine McClements), or rather comes from her, unbidden, in a creative writing class that she herself is conducting. Itâs an exercise in automatic writing â the idea is to write continuously without ever lifting the pen from the page, designed to unlock the unconscious creative muse. Itâs been 17 years since she published her one, politely received, novel, and if the sentence hardly constitutes a major work, it seems to be the key to something more significant. If only she could get this one student out of her head. The Sound Inside is written by US playwright Adam Rapp, who is also a novelist and creative writing teacher at Yale. These distinctions seem vitally important here: the play is about a novelist who teaches at Yale â her name deliberately echoes his own motherâs maiden name of Baird. Itâs a work not only deeply concerned with the art of the novel, it is itself steeped in novelistic structures and effects. It is a kind of masterclass in fiction â in particular the self-reflexive blend of the invented and the biographical known as auto-fiction â and as such constantly teases the audience with questions about what is real and what is not. The plot is simple, yet it rather ingeniously keeps us on the edge. Baird is a fine, if possibly remote creative writing teacher, respected by her students but still a rather solitary figure. She tells us she lost her mother to a rare and devasta

Lohengrin
Opera Australia often talks about âentry-level operasâ â easily digestible works with familiar melodies that make ideal experiences for the uninitiated. La Traviata, currently playing in Melbourne, is often brought up as the perfect example. Itâs something you wonât hear them say about Richard Wagnerâs Lohengrin, which seems a shame. Itâs a fairly simple tale clearly told; it has, with the Bridal Chorus, one of the most recognisable tunes in opera; and in a major coup for Melbourne audiences, it stars the greatest tenor in the world, Jonas Kaufmann. Lohengrin comes before Wagnerâs opus, his Ring Cycle, and is in many ways more accessible, relying as it does on traditional operatic structures like arias and recitative. The story of a mysterious stranger who turns up to rescue the honour of a woman wrongly accused of fratricide, it draws on medieval German myth, of knights and chivalry and holy grails. And, like most of Wagnerâs work, it deals with complex universal themes in dramatically satisfying ways. These people grapple with the grandest of ideas, with love and faith, ambition and evil. The setting, in director Olivier Pyâs uncompromising vision, is post-WW II Berlin, specifically the burnt-out rubble of a theatre. As Wagnerâs exquisite prelude, shimmering and delicate, fills the State Theatre, the monumental face of a brutalist structure, all shattered windows and graffitied walls, slowly revolves. Itâs impossible not to think of the besieged Ukrainian city of Mariupol,

Driftwood
Below is a two-star review of the 2022 season of Driftwood - The Musical. There has, since the end of the second world war itself, been searing and complex questions asked about the role of art in depicting, representing and reflecting the horrors of the Holocaust. While we now accept as possible the idea of 'Holocaust art', a lingering doubt remains. Is there a limit or boundary artists need to respect, especially in regards to questions of taste or accuracy? Is a purely aesthetic lens appropriate or even possible when critiquing such work? What exactly constitutes bad Holocaust art? These are questions occurred to me while watching Driftwood. A musical based on the memoir of Eva de Jong-Duldig, it has largely been driven by her daughter Tania de Jong, who plays Evaâs mother, Slawa. She is listed in the program as âProducer and Creatorâ, and is also credited as one of the lyricists, along with composer Anthony Barnhill and playwright Jane Bodie. The whole exercise has âvanity projectâ written all over it, an impression that only intensified to me as the musical progressed. It opens in Melbourne in 1958, when Eva (Sara Reed) is turning 18 and her parents, Slawa and Karl (Anton Berezin), give her a box of memorabilia, intending to fill in the gaps of their story. Just why they havenât told her any of this beforehand is difficult to discern, but we know itâs been bothering her, because she sings a song called Something Missing. Itâs painfully literal, like almost everything in

Lano and Woodley: Moby Dick
Herman Melvilleâs gargantuan masterpiece Moby-Dick is one of those unassailable classics of popular culture; it will survive any shit thrown its way. Which is just as well, because Lano and Woodley (Colin Lane and Frank Woodley) throw a lot of shit â in the form of juvenile oneupmanship, silly costumes and a series of almost endless comic distractions â at the story of Captain Ahab and his pursuit of the white whale, not so much adapting it for the stage as face-planting at the foot of its opening line. Part of their well-established schtick is a daring flirtation with failure, a sense that the comic duo are always underprepared, their shows fatally undercooked. So even when problems with the mics grinds the show to a halt â with Colin standing awkwardly on stage as Frank has his mic fixed in the auditorium â they somehow manage to absorb the dead patch and fold it into their central argument. Everything in a Lano and Woodley show is âa little bit shitâ, careening towards a kind of reassuring chaos. We do get a tiny bit of Melville among the inanity, and itâs quite delicious: Colin uses his briniest radio voice for some descriptions of Ahab stalking the Pequod at night, and there is a brief moment when Moby-Dick is spotted and the call of âThar she blows!â booms through the theatre. But inevitably, Frank shuffles on with some ludicrous pretext for diversion and the wind literally drops from Colinâs sails. Most of time, the two are mucking around with giant squid costumes or k

Yentl
While Shakespeare by no means invented the cross-dress comedy â in which a young woman disguises herself as a male in order to woo, wile or win a man either for herself or a surrogate â he arguably perfected it. So when Nobel laureate Isaac Bashevis Singer turned to the device in his short story Yentl the Yeshiva Boy, he drew on a long-established tradition. That he did so in order to subvert and challenge traditions of his own, both cultural and spiritual, was perhaps less appreciated at the time. Certainly, the story of a girl who dresses as a boy so that she can study the Torah sounds harmless enough to us now, which is why this new stage adaptation for Kadimah Yiddish Theatre, provocative and profoundly moving, comes as such a shock.Barbra Streisand famously turned the story into a 1983 movie musical and then retained all rights to the material in perpetuity, so director Gary Abrahams, Elise Hearst and Galit Klas returned to the original Yiddish and adapted it themselves. The result is one of the most lucid, dramatically compelling and theologically reflective productions Melbourne has seen in years. Yentlâs transformative journey into their own soul is an arduous one, not without pain for themselves and others, but it is necessary and unmistakably current.Desperate to disobey the directive of her synagogue that says a woman is not allowed to study the Torah, Yentl (Jana Zvedeniuk, a revelation) gains the support of their father to dress as a young man named Anshl and ent

Anna Karenina
This is a review of the Melbourne season of Anna Karenina. Tolstoy published his masterpiece Anna Karenina in 1878 and since that time, it has been adapted for the ballet twice â and it isnât hard to see why. It's intensely psychological, inherently dramatic but also simple to understand, Annaâs doomed love affair with Count Vronsky has the kind of seething high romanticism perfectly attuned to the dancerâs body. Choreographer Yuri Possokhov luxuriates in the lyricism that is only suggested in Tolstoyâs hyper-realist style, but he also connects directly with the workâs savage inevitability.Possokhov opens, like Tolstoy, at a train station where Anna (Robyn Hendricks) and eventual lover Vronsky (danced memorably by Callum Linnane on the night he was elevated to principal artist) witness the death of a railway worker, crushed in an act of foreshadowing by an oncoming train. Already, with David Finnâs saturnine lighting and Finn Rossâs persuasive projections, despondency mingles with the expectation of high drama to create a palpable mood of tragedy in motion. In the initial ball scene, it is Anna who seems most in control, seductive and authoritative. Hendricks is positively regal here, dominating the mise-en-scĂšne with grace, poise and an impenetrable aloofness. Linnane seems almost boyish in comparison, eager and guileless. Their pas de deux crackles with sexual potential, the almost unbearable desire sitting under the surface. It is also here that we meet the secondary pair

Anna Karenina
Tolstoy published his masterpiece Anna Karenina in 1878 and since that time, it has been adapted for the ballet twice â and it isnât hard to see why. It's intensely psychological, inherently dramatic but also simple to understand, Annaâs doomed love affair with Count Vronsky has the kind of seething high romanticism perfectly attuned to the dancerâs body. Choreographer Yuri Possokhov luxuriates in the lyricism that is only suggested in Tolstoyâs hyper-realist style, but he also connects directly with the workâs savage inevitability.Possokhov opens, like Tolstoy, at a train station where Anna (Robyn Hendricks) and eventual lover Vronsky (danced memorably by Callum Linnane on the night he was elevated to principal artist) witness the death of a railway worker, crushed in an act of foreshadowing by an oncoming train. Already, with David Finnâs saturnine lighting and Finn Rossâs persuasive projections, despondency mingles with the expectation of high drama to create a palpable mood of tragedy in motion. In the initial ball scene, it is Anna who seems most in control, seductive and authoritative. Hendricks is positively regal here, dominating the mise-en-scĂšne with grace, poise and an impenetrable aloofness. Linnane seems almost boyish in comparison, eager and guileless. Their pas de deux crackles with sexual potential, the almost unbearable desire sitting under the surface. It is also here that we meet the secondary pair of lovers, Levin (Brett Chenowyth, totally assured) and Kit
News (12)

Melbourne theatre in 2020: the shows we're looking forward to
Picking highlights for the coming year is always a crapshoot: the things you expect to be brilliant are often bound to disappoint, and the things that look naff or downright weird on paper turn out to be revelatory. Still, we beat on in the hope we might get something right. In that spirit, here are our expected highlights for the 2020 theatrical year. Just donât hold us to them. Home, Iâm Darling Melbourne Theatre Company have opened their season with a British play starring Jane Turner before, back with Jumpy in 2015, but thereâs reason to believe this one might actually be good. Turner is not playing the lead; that honour goes to the fabulous Nikki Shiels. Here she plays Judy, a contemporary woman who decides not to just decorate her life as a â50s housewife, but to literally become one â cue day after day of baking, cleaning and Tupperware. As her friends and family start to realise she is serious about this descent into a rosy mid-century romanticism, the tensions rise between the cold realities of the present and the safe sureties of the past. Single Ladies Another play from the rapier-sharp Michele Lee is always something to look forward to, and this one for Red Stitch sounds like a cracker. Set outside the Coles on Smith Street, and taking place over the course of a single day, this work plucks three generations of women from three different cultural backgrounds and smashes them together. Knowing this writerâs tendency to push at the boundaries of identity, this shoul

The best on Melbourne stages in 2019: our top 10
Like all art forms, theatre is an ecosystem: it needs large-scale commercial works to provide the oxygen and the moss from which edgier, independent fare can flourish. This year in Melbourne, we saw a strange hybrid growth in works that were ostensibly mainstream but sprang from the independent sector, and blockbuster shows with outsider sensibilities. Hereâs our top ten, in a year that could have had a top 50. 10. 33 Variations An independent production that should by rights have slotted easily into the programming of Melbourne Theatre Company, Cameron Lukey and Neil Goodingâs production of MoisĂ©s Kaufmanâs play about genius and mediocrity was superbly directed by Gary Abrahams, with a top-notch cast led by a towering Ellen Burstyn. 9. Pomona Again directed by Gary Abrahams (surely a director who deserves to run a major state company) for Red Stitch, this nasty, grubby little gem from UK playwright Alistair McDowall envisaged a world only mildly more gruesome and soulless than our own. Shining a misty light into Stygian hellscapes, it was an uncompromising vision of the city as cage and endgame. 8. Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Commercial theatre at its colossal best, the much-awaited theatrical behemoth from the Potterverse turned out to be as exciting, as tricksy (how the hell do they do that phone booth thing?) and as emotionally engaging as Melbourne could have hoped for. Top-dollar theatre that is actually worth every one of those dollars. 7. Wake in Fright Such a s

What do actors and asylum seekers have in common? The audition
The idea of comparing actors to asylum seekers seems initially rather crass, bordering on offensive. How can you make an analogy between the soul-crushing wait that families on Manus Island face, for example, with the relatively comfortable instability of the actorâs plight? But when Outer Urban Projectsâ Irine Vela conceived the idea, she was thinking not so much of the ways that actors are like refugees, but in the ways refugees are forced into the role of actor; subjugated, living in limbo, forced to survive on hope. âSo much of a refugeeâs experience is about hoping and waiting. Waiting for acceptance into the show, into the country,â Vela explains over coffee at her house in Coburg. Itâs a disempowering experience that completely strips people of agency. âWe wanted to look at what it means for a person to be constantly rejected, and having to turn up again and again.â Milad Norouzi and Irine Vela. Photograph: Miguel Rios and Meredith O'Shea Vela put the idea to a number of writers, including longterm associates Patricia Cornelius and Christos Tsiolkas. All three were integral members of the Melbourne Workers Theatre, and recently reunited for the production of Anthem that has just played in this yearâs Melbourne Festival. They were instantly hooked, especially because the show would include works by asylum seekers Wahibe Moussa, Milad Norouzi and Sahra Davoudi. âIâm interested in the ways asylum seekers have to perform this role of subjugation,â says Cornelius. âTheyâr

Brisbane's most dangerous theatre company has moved to Melbourne
What makes a theatre company pull up stumps and relocate to another city? Itâs a tough thing to do, logistically as much as artistically, especially when thereâs no guarantee your work will be received with the same enthusiasm in your new home. But when we sat down to chat with director and designer Stephen Mitchell Wright, who last year moved his experimental theatre company the Danger Ensemble from Brisbane to Melbourne, we quickly learned that risk was central to the appeal. âThe name of the Danger Ensemble came about, not because we wanted to make overtly risky work, but because we wanted to always feel like we were in danger of failing,â he explains over coffee in a clattering cafĂ© in the middle of the CBD. âI didnât want to get to a place where we were making choices that we understood, before weâd already made them.â The move can therefore be read as a physical extension of their artistic aims, of âalways wanting to be in new territory.â The first show in their new digs was The Hamlet Apocalypse, an alarming and chaotic countdown to the end of time. Performed by a troupe of actors stuck in a performance of Hamlet, it refracted Shakespeareâs play through the prism of contemporary doom culture. It was electric and strange and difficult to categorise. âThatâs important to us, that we donât pre-empt or prescribe what an audience is going to feel coming to our shows.â The important thing is to shake audiences up. âI donât want people to feel safe, or familiar, in our space.

Time Out Melbourne's second annual alternative Helpmann Awards
Another year, another round of Helpmann Awards for the theatrical community to cheer, boo and yell at with supreme apoplexy. They mightnât be quite as frustrating as the Oscars (are any of us over that time Brokeback Mountain lost to Crash?), but there are a number of ways, year after year, they find a way to disappoint and exclude. That could be through a lack of Indigenous representation â although it must be said that this year has seen major improvements on this front; it could be gross gender bias, where, for example, no female choreographers are even nominated; or it could be a complete lack of interest in regional and rural performances that donât visit major cities. This year, the Helpmanns have moved from Sydney to Melbourne, so youâd expect to see more Melbourne shows in the mix. Youâd be wrong. This yearâs line-up is incredibly Sydney-centric. So here at Time Out, we like to hold a little tonic for those feelings of awards ennui, a little repository for our collective indignation. We call them the Alternative Helpmanns, the Alternate Helpmanns, and sometimes the flat-out Fake Helpmanns. Of course, we'll have the full list of official winners tonight, but here are our picks: Best Choreography by a Person (which could include a man but doesnât)Jo Lloyd, for OVERTURE, who is apparently good enough to get nominated for Best Dance Production but not for choreographing the bloody thing.Special Mention:Â Stephanie Lake, for Colossus and Skeleton Tree, and for taking her a

Melbourne theatre in 2019: all the shows we're looking forward to
The only thing more fun than best-of lists for the year just gone are best-of lists for the year ahead. Of course, these are more prone to error, more susceptible to the bloating of expectation and good old-fashioned hype; theyâre also more likely to miss the smaller, unexpected gems that give Melbourne theatre the majority of its thrills. Still, at the risk of egg on our collective faces, hereâs a run down of things we are hoping to delight us in 2019. Big shows/Massive hype There are several shows coming to Melbourne this year that will ride a crest of buzz and expectation, with ecstatic reviews and a tonnage of pre-bookings to back them up. Tony Award-winning musical Come From Away, which focuses on the planes that were diverted to Canada during the 9/11 attacks on New York, opens at the Comedy Theatre in July. Murielâs Wedding comes from a triumphant season in Sydney to Her Majestyâs Theatre in March. Biggest of all, though, is Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, which is expected to keep the lights on at the Princess Theatre for many months (possibly even years) to come. Shows almost never get bigger than this. International playwrights/Local productions The year starts off with some major new productions of internationally acclaimed work, from Alan Bennettâs The Lady in the Van at MTC, to Moises Kaufmanâs 33 Variations starring none other than Ellen Burstyn at the Comedy. Red Stitch are premiering a new Caryl Churchill play, Escaped Alone, which is nothing short of mirac

The best on Melbourne stages in 2018: our top 10
In this year of massive political upheaval, when things seem daily on the knife-edge of collapse, itâs not surprising to see theatre itself turn political. Melbourne saw an influx of fiercely funny political theatre â some of it admittedly on the silly side â in a fulfilment of Hamletâs commandment to âhold a mirror up to natureâ. There was some fine pure escapism around, but mostly 2018 was the year shit got real. Hereâs a run down of the best: 10. The Architect âThe personal is politicalâ was a concept born of second-wave feminism, but it also perfectly encapsulates the ideas driving this powerfully emotional play about assisted dying and the consequences of policy on the individual. While it cemented the talent of Linda Cropper, it featured a career-making performance from Johnny Carr. 9. The Antipodes USÂ playwright Annie Baker is one of the finest voices working in theatre anywhere in the world, and she brought us a dazzlingly clever, intellectually labyrinthine meditation on storytelling with this play set in a writersâ room. Director Ella Caldwell did a superb job gathering the finely drawn performances of the Red Stitch ensemble together. 8. Going Down Michele Lee is such an exciting voice in Australian drama right now, and this co-production with STC and Malthouse helped spread a love for her that will no doubt continue to grow. A riotously funny satire on cultural expectations and the limits of identity politics, it was also a poignant and profound commentary on ance

The perpetual warfare of the Middle East inspires MTC's new production of Macbeth
When Simon Phillips tackled Richard III for Melbourne Theatre Company, in 2010, he was inspired by George Bush; when he took on Julius Caesar, in the â90s, it was Thatcherâs Britain. So one shudders to think of what might inspire him to stage Shakespeareâs most brutal and bloody tragedy, Macbeth. As it happens, his Macbeth has nothing to do with contemporary America and its preposterous President. âItâs ludicrous to say that America today is like Macbethâs Scotland,â Phillips demurs. â[America] is fucked, but it isnât that.â Instead, Phillips turned his attention to the perpetual battlefield of the Middle East for inspiration. âI saw a fantastic photograph early on when I was conceiving this, of a whole force of army trucks and soldiers on the ground with guns â all red â and this woman, swathed in black, stopping and talking to them. It was such a potent image, somehow.â It led him to a conception of the âweird sistersâ as people âwho are disenfranchised, un-homed. I wanted them to be against the established order, a force for chaos.â  Director Simon Phillips (centre) in the rehearsal room for Macbeth Photograph: Deryk McAlpin   A world of endless warfare, of a bloodlust that can never be sated, does brilliantly describe Macbethâs Scotland, and when it came to casting the brutish Thane, Phillips wanted someone who could convincingly play a soldier. Enter Hollywood heartthrob Jai Courtney: âHave you met him? Heâs massive. Heâs over six foot, built like a brick shithouse,

Opera Australia's Ring Cycle reviewed: GötterdÀmmerung (4/4)
This is the fourth â and final â instalment in our review of Opera Australia's Ring Cycle. Read reviews of Das Rheingold, Die WalkĂŒre and Siegfried to catch up. There is a particular kind of tension that builds as a great work moves inexorably to its conclusion: how can something so complex and expansive, so vast in its vision and so completely attuned to the monumental in human experience, bring itself to a close that is in any way satisfactory? J.R.R. Tolkien opted for ending after ending to his great saga, Lord of the Rings, so incapable of leaving off that he introduced yet another battle after his ring had burnt in the fires of Mount Doom. Wagnerâs ring also burns â not in a volcano but a funeral pyre â before plunging back into the river Rhine from whence it came. The difference is that Wagner manages to distil this climax into a finer and more layered thematic resolution of his great work. Itâs an ending that opens outward and upward, ambiguous enough to leave the audience reaching towards its mysteries rather than congratulating itself for getting to the end. It is precisely this aspect, seen also in the great masterpieces of Shakespeare, that enshrines this extraordinary cycle in the minds of all who experience it.  Jacqueline Dark, Anna-Louise Cole and Tania Ferris as the NornsPhotograph: Jeff Busby   GötterdĂ€mmerung opens with the Norns (Tania Ferris, Jacqueline Dark, Anna-Louise Cole), Wagnerâs equivalent to the Three Fates of Greek mythology, as they weave

Opera Australia's Ring Cycle reviewed: Siegfried (3/4)
This is the third instalment in our review of Opera Australia's Ring Cycle. Read reviews of Das Rheingold and Die WalkĂŒre to catch up.And then a hero comes along. It may have taken Wagner more than eight hours to introduce the central character in his Ring Cycle, but he makes up for it by naming the third opera after him. The child of the late incestuous twins Siegmund and Sieglinde, Siegfried (Stefan Vinke) is initially something of a brat; he certainly makes life difficult for Mime (Graeme Macfarlane), the dwarf who has raised him and endures his contempt and constant rages. But with Wagner nothing is what it initially seems, and the audienceâs view of these two characters will shift markedly as the plot deepens.  Stefan Vinke as SiegfriedPhotograph: Jeff Busby   The opera opens, much like the previous one (Die WalkĂŒre), with a long exchange between two people; in fact, most of the entire Ring Cycle is made up of long exchanges between two people. That Wagner can employ this seemingly limited model to suggest entire world views, to mine the most profound impulses of humanity, is a mark of his genius. This exchange, however, couldnât be further from the glorious love serenade that opens Die WalkĂŒre. Mime is, by all appearances, a hard-working pseudo-father to Siegried, toiling to forge the sword his charge will use to slay the current keeper of the ring, the dragon Fafner (Jud Arthur). What becomes clear pretty quickly is that this bogus father/son relationship is based

Opera Australia's Ring Cycle reviewed: Das Rheingold (1/4)
Richard Wagnerâs Der Ring des Nibelungen, otherwise known as The Ring Cycle, is without doubt Operaâs Everest; four operas, over a hundred musicians, sixteen hours in total, itâs a feat of endurance for some, and a total obsession for others. People who travel the world to see the cycle are affectionately referred to as âRing nutsâ. After a single performance of the first opera in the cycle, Das Rheingold â at two and a half hours without an interval itâs really only an amuse-bouche for the lengthy meals to follow â youâll be tempted to join the club. Neil Armfieldâs production premiered in Melbourne in 2013 and is back to close the year for Opera Australia with a tweaked design and the majority of the original cast and crew. The buzz has hardly diminished. Armfield was not exactly an obvious choice, even if it feels like it in retrospect; his best work for this company was with the JanĂĄÄek operas in the â90s â pared back, small budget productions that emphasised the emotional interactions of the characters over lavish spectacle. This production has plenty of lavish spectacle, but itâs the emotional interactions that anchor and drive the piece. The result is pretty much triumphant.  James Johnson as Wotan, Jacqueline Dark as Fricka and the Rainbow GirlsPhotograph: Jeff Busby  The plot is tricky to explain, even in sketch form. Wotan (James Johnson) â a kind of Nordic/Germanic Zeus, and king of the gods â has commissioned the giants Fasolt (Daniel Sumegi) and Fafner (Jud

Opera Australia's Ring Cycle reviewed: Die WalkĂŒre (2/4)
Richard Wagner conceived his Ring Cycle to occur in a festival setting over three days, with a preliminary opera, Das Rheingold, to play the night before as a means of getting the audience up to speed with the backstory. Die WalkĂŒre is, therefore, technically the first opera in the cycle. It contains the most famous music â namely the âRide of the Valkyriesâ, immortalised in popular culture via Bugs Bunny as much as Francis Ford Coppola. It also introduces the heroine, BrĂŒnnhilde. The hero will have to wait his turn, appearing as the eponymous character in the next opera, Siegfried. Die WalkĂŒre opens on a house revolving gently under a heavy fall of snow, like something from a fairy tale. A stranger approaches, wounded and desperate for shelter. The mistress of the house lets him in, and gradually the two realise something profound has occurred. This is Siegmund (Bradley Daley) and Sieglinde (Amber Wagner), twin children of Wotan (James Johnson) and husband and wife before the end of the act. Unless her current husband, Hunding (Jud Arthur) has his way.  Amber Wagner as Sieglinde and Bradley Daley as SiegmundPhotograph: Jeff Busby   This remarkable three-person mini-drama, with incestuous love as its engine, seems as brazen now as it must have on its premiere back in 1876. The exact moments the twins realise that they are in love and also brother and sister are difficult to pin down precisely; the music is so encompassing of their sorrow and yearning that it becomes imp