There are no safety rails for A Nightime Travesty, no discernible logic, only the thrill of what could possibly happen next. The latest provocation from theatre collective A Daylight Connection, this absurdist vaudeville is a reckless, exhilarating descent into the wreckage of colonialism, late-stage capitalism, the patriarchy and wanton environmental destruction.
Returning to Melbourne after a triumphant premiere at Yirramboi Festival, the show lands as part of Asia TOPA – and it's a literal fever dream that feels like the logical successor to Brecht and the most deranged episodes of Hey Hey It’s Saturday.
Co-created and performed by Kamarra Bell-Wykes and Carly Sheppard, A Nightime Travesty operates at the precipice of satire and existential dread. Sheppard’s Angel, an Indigenous Australian flight attendant aboard the Last Fleet, must survive a dubious spacecraft evacuating even more dubious clientele from an Earth now in smouldering ruin. It’s a post-colonial allegory with a phallocentric captain, a lecherous AI co-worker and an on-board infotainment system broadcasting Hey Hey It’s Judgement Day. There are bureaucratic nightmares, some decapitation and a dildo bike. The final reckoning? God, of course. And the eternal question: “Can the last Aboriginal alive defeat the most powerful incarnation of colonial evil?”
It’s a lot, and that’s probably the point. Stephen Nicolazzo directs this chaos with a careful sleight of hand, ensuring that even the most audacious absurdities, be it a shirtless, lurking figure (Zach Blampied), the introduction of a Jabberwocky followed by the unholy appearance of a rabbit Satan, are placed with intent. Beneath the messiness, there’s an internal beat to the show – perhaps an intentional rawness, perhaps an embrace of theatre’s ephemeral energy.
The performers navigate this dense, unruly material with ease, undoubtedly because of their deep familiarity with the work – at one point even skewering the theatre industry’s shallow gestures toward Indigenous representation. Their comedic timing is sharp, their character shifts are seamless. The production thrives on their confidence and the chemistry between them anchors even the most surreal detours. A live onstage band, shifting between raunchy to soulful numbers, is an important part of the madness. Visually, while the set leans into a scrappy, DIY aesthetic, the lighting design by Gina Gascoigne lifts the show into something immersive.
This is not First Nations theatre in its most palatable form. It does not perform trauma in tidy platitudes, nor does it seek to conform to outdated industry expectations. A Nightime Travesty is an explosive, genre-defying experience that rejects easy categorisation, demanding instead that the industry, and its audiences, get on board. All I know is that I laughed. I recoiled. And, most importantly, I had a bloody good time.