Critical Opinions: All of our reviews from Sydney Festival 2025

History is written by the winners. But what if it wasn’t? The internationally acclaimed Dark Noon, written and directed by Danish Tue Biering and co-directed by South African Nhlanhla Mahlangu, imagines a different American history, one told by outsiders. One with cowboys and big dreams, but a lot less romanticised gun violence and death. A cast of seven South African actors lassos the tropes of Western movies and turns them inside out: starting on a blank expanse of dirt, they pull and tear at each other, build up a town filled with wooden set pieces not unlike a film set (designed by Johan Kølkjær), and narrate a history that isn’t their own. It goes from hilariously silly to silently terrifying and back again in seconds, and never lets up on the tension or the audience involvement. Sound design by Ditlev Brinth utilises silence and barrages of noise to great effect (ramming home the stillness that follows many a gunshot) paired with a live film element that projects the actors’ emotions in unflinching widescreen. If you’re sitting in the front row, be prepared to be bought, sold and bartered (and more sinister things) for the sake of the story. A chaotic and brilliant piece of festival theatre that’ll leave your ears ringing and your brain swirling with some new perspectives on the dangers of nationalism and self-mythologising. 

January 9–23, Sydney Town Hall, $80-$119+bf. Find tickets & info over here.

The original Tiger Kings, German-American magicians Siegfried Fischbacher and Roy Horn, have a story that you just couldn’t make up. The pair, both from Bavaria, meet on a cruise ship and start performing a magic act with tigers. From there, they get picked up to perform in nightclubs all over the world, they fall in love, and end up becoming one of the biggest Las Vegas acts of all time. Later, it all goes dramatically awry – a fall from grace, a tiger attack, and a break-up all come into the mix. It only makes sense to turn all of this into an opera – and the world premiere of Siegfried & Roy: The Unauthorised Opera brings all the glitz, camp, and magic you could ever hope to have.

Composer/librettist Luke Di Somma and director/librettist Constantine Costi turn the drama into sparkly slapstick numbers, tender love songs, and everything in between with a delightful and varied approach to musical style. Christopher Tonkin as Siegfried and Kanen Breen as Roy sing the pants (or shirts?) off their roles, dressed to the nines by costume designer Tim Chappel. There’s also a beautifully strange tiger puppet by Erth Visual and Physical Inc, a woman being sawn in half, and plenty more wonderful moments. If you wish opera were a little more approachable and a little more quirky, this one's for you.

January 8–26, STC Wharf 1 Theatre (The Thirsty Mile), $49-$129+bf. Find tickets & info over here.

This awe-inspiring display co-produced by Justin Talplacido Shoulder (aka Phasmahammer) is arguably the most mystifying performance at Sydney Festival this year. A total shapeshifter, it’s difficult to define exactly what Shoulder creates with their collective; but you could describe them as the Patricia Piccinini of the dance world. A stunning fusion of movement and sculpture, Anito is a queered exploration of the ancient Filipino belief that all entities, both animate and inanimate, are inhabited by a life force or soul; collectively known as ‘anitos’. The piece begins in a dark void; center-stage, a large and peculiar shape emerges from the mist, shallowly bathed in whispers of golden light. Is this lumpy, organic form a rock formation? A large intestine? A coral garden? A garbage heap? And, are those actual human bodies intertwined in it? A pyramid-like stream of dappled light gradually builds in intensity, as if breaking through a rainforest canopy, slowly illuminating the scene as the throbbing electronic score builds in intensity. 

As the performance unfolds, peculiar characters and organic scenes emerge from the darkness – the lines between dancer and soft sculpture are perpetually obscured. You never know what to expect, how tall something will grow, or when a new layer of the light show will take things in a transcendent new direction. A discarded object may be picked up as a snack for a horse-like creature formed of two swaggering bodies, or limbs for a sort of glamourous hag who twirled out of a walking boulder, then sucked up and composted by an enormous anemone. Anito is a work of phenomenal, otherworldly artistry – but audiences should be aware that it is more like an experiential art installation than traditional narrative theatre. Enter with patience, and you’ll be richly rewarded.

January 15–18, Carriageworks, $59+bf. Find last tickets & info over here.

If But I’m a Cheerleader and Muriel’s Wedding made a baby, and that baby was a stage musical with a Gen Z bent, it would probably look a lot like this. A brand-new Aussie show with a whole lot of heart, Converted! follows 17-year-old outcast Maya (Megan Robinson) to a summer camp for “teens with low self-esteem”. However, her desperation to fit into the box of “normality” laid out by the camp’s kooky leaders, Mrs Doctor and Mr Doctor (fabulously overplayed by Helen Dallimore and Nat Jobe), is thrown off-course when temptation arises in Bone (Teo Vergara), a vengeful returning camper with soft-butch swagger.

Writer Vic Zerbst deploys a light satirical bent to explore an interesting conundrum: how do old-school “conversion camps” re-brand for this new era, where state governments in Australia are finally starting to outlaw these barbaric practices? And how are God’s soldiers supposed to get their heads around the diverse spectrum of “new” LGBTQIA+ identities anyway? Converted! works hard to strike a delicate balance – it addresses spiky issues with care, and moves towards joy. With zesty orchestrations by Oliver John Cameron (who also provides additional lyrics) the songs are fun, and provide some heart-aching moments of emotional resonance that might just catch you by surprise. This show was developed with haste to premiere as part of Sydney Festival at ATYP’s Rebel Theatre (an awkward space that isn’t ideally set up for musical theatre), and there is some evidence of this in the final product, which could use some tightening. But there’s something special here, with a distinctive point of view. It’s a good show that has the potential to mature into something really great. Converted! might make a believer out of you yet.

January 3–25, The Rebel Theatre (The Thirsty Mile), $37-$68. Find tickets & info over here.

Walk into the shadows of the Neilson Nutshell this Sydney Festival and surrender to the pulse of a communal, high-octane, joy-fuelled dancefloor. This sacred space is the oft-forgotten inheritance of Queer/POC communities; those who pioneered its radical forms of resistance and freedom in clubs, on streets, and in underground sanctuaries. Propelled by a set by Jack Prest under tall, thin spotlights, seven of Sydney’s own pioneers of inspired movement blaze: Geny Navuzi, Angelica Osuji, Molonai Makalio, Robin Chen, Isabella Solisa, Naethiel Lumbera, and Azzam Mohamed (who also directs). The crowd follows like a single, enveloping organism as these dancers light up all corners of the room with breaking, hip-hop, krump, waacking, locking, house and Afro dance. Anointed in sweat, they celebrate their unique styles as individuals, and are uplifted by their creativity as a collective. 

The energy is infectious. By the end, the seat-less crowd is elated, tired bodies replenished. As a regular hardcore raver, I know the rapture of hurling it all to the limits on a dancefloor shared with fellow humans who respect its history and the subculture’s principles of care. Whether with strangers or friends, we’re all mortals defying death in being so relentlessly alive, taken together to the edge by that perfect, insistent, alien beat of electronic music. The title of this performance is a Sudanese slang word that describes the breathlessness and intensity of hard partying – and Katma choreographs this into a visionary ideal that honours its origins, cross-cultural power, and potential future.

January 15–19, The Neilson Nutshell at Bell Shakespeare (The Thirsty Mile), $49+bf. Find tickets & info over here. (Hot tip: when you see a show on The Thirsty Mile, you can keep the party kicking on at Moonshine Bar.)

Hey toots, the show’s a hit! Transforming into a theatre space with all due razzamatazz and rizz  for the very first time (what an honour, yer honours!), the Darlinghurst Courthouse re-dramatises with razzamatazz and rizz  a real murder trial that took place at the very same locationthere all the way back in 1954, when blonde bombshell Shirley Beiger shot her philandering sweetheart outside Chequers, “de clerb” in Kings Cross. There’s aA palsied piano-playing stenographer; Anthony Taufa and Marco Chiappi sportingin wigs, robes and sparkling pantyhose; a winking drag radio host hitting the story’s beats atop a table; and a bosom-heaving showgirl from Europe (or, avoiding perjury, Ashfield) – what larks! The audience giddily plunges into the glamorised, gavel-mashing whirlwind, too:, as jury, spectators, and (for one lucky duck) the centre-seated judge. With pop songs, dramatic lighting and contemporaneous patter, Sheridan Harbridge has written and directed an immersive cabaret-comedy sensation that plucks at the interrelations between hotness, gender and justice. Hat tip to Sydney Festival for commissioning this!

January 4–25, Darlinghurst Courthouse, $69-$129+bf. SOLD OUT! Find the waitlist & info over here.

“Don’t look back.” This is the fated command Hades gives near the end of Orpheus’s quest to lead his great love Eurydice back from the death realm. In AFTERWORLD, a world premiere marrying Sue Healey’s choreography with Laurence Pike’s percussive sound, five nymph-like dancers in translucent garb make a conceptual arc through this tragic myth. In misted pools of copper light and blue shades, an eldritch and tender composition unfolds; a haunting beyond the veil. This haunting is semi-literal in the sixth dancer,  the late Eileen Kramer, who passed away in November at 110 years old. Her final dance performance is projected in layered triplicate on three screens: a work of slow, gnarled, close-up beauty. When these floating curtains are pulled aside, a vault seems to open up into a dust-mote eternity. 

Bewitching as this sculpted movement is, the most powerful element in AFTERWORLD is Pike. On a platform adrift in a waveless black sea to the right of the stage, Pike commands and surrenders to drums and cymbals as if in sublime thrall to something divine. Relentlessly intricate rhythms syncopate with and carry the otherworldly choir, the electronic oceans, and the tintinnabulum that fills the room. He seems to both anticipate and feel everything in a crashing inevitability. As someone more familiar with the drum kick of techno, I’ve experienced nothing like it.

January 7–11, The Neilson Nutshell at Bell Shakespeare (The Thirsty Mile), $49+bf. Find tickets & info over here. (Hot tip: when you see a show on The Thirsty Mile, you can keep the party kicking on at Moonshine Bar.)

Almost a tale as old as time, Cinderella gets a twinkling twirl on the Joan Sutherland Theatre stage this summer to open Opera Australia’s 2025 season. This production is an abridged, English version of the original French four-act epic by Massenet, modelled after the Metropolitan Opera’s 2021 version. There are plenty of outrageous costumes, a delightfully designed horse and carriage, and some sparkly fairy coloratura – but ultimately, this production turns out to be more of a frog than a prince. The set design and direction are largely unchanged in this staging, and while there are some breathtaking moments, a lot of the magic we know and love in this story takes place off the stage (for example, Cinderella dons her gown sidestage and re-enters without much fanfare). Large empty spaces also dominate this production, with Cinderella or Prince Charming often dwarfed by a large backdrop with excerpts of the original French text of the fairytale written across it. The music and singing are perfectly commendable, but nothing particularly new is happening in this production. A little disappointing for Opera Australia’s family-friendly summer offering. 

December 31–March 28, Sydney Opera House, from $79+bf. Find tickets & info over here.

If you aren’t familiar with the work of revered social photographer and performance artist William Yang, this is a good primer for you – Milestone is a celebration of his remarkable life, just in time for his 80th birthday. The show is deceptively simple: a man armed with a slideshow of photographs tells the story of his life (albeit, elevated by a live chamber ensemble playing a haunting original score by Elena Kats-Chernin). However, there is an unassuming allure to Yang’s mode of storytelling. He guides us from his early upbringing in Far North Queensland as a third-generation Chinese-Australian to discovering his gay identity, dropping out of his architecture studies and finding himself amongst Sydney’s burgeoning queer and artistic communities, to reclaiming his ancestry (or “coming out again, as Chinese”) through to today. 

Yang’s experiences are rich fodder for name-dropping – there’s Linda Jackson and Jenny Kee, Peter Tully, Brett Whiteley, and so on – and yet, ever humble, he never comes off as bragging. Yang’s story casually intertwines personal and familial histories with socio-political movements, including the inception of the Sydney Mardi Gras Parade, the scourge of AIDS, and the fight for marriage equality. In spite of all the pain and grief Yang has been dealt, there’s a great sense of gratitude; he’ll have you enthralled for all 90 minutes. Yang has two great learnings to impart: firstly, that one of the most important things in life is to have fun, and secondly, how incredibly lucky we are to live in Australia. Reflecting on the life laid out, it's pretty hard to disagree with him.  

January 10 & 11, Roslyn Packer Theatre (The Thirsty Mile), $53-$89+bf. Find tickets & info over here.

Perhaps you know her character parodies on Shaun Micallef’s Mad As Hell; her triple-threat status on musical theatre stages; her rave-reviewed Britney Spears tribute; or perhaps her name from recent headlines about certain Rocky Horror allegations (obliquely mentioned here, but not material for this show). For one night only, under chintzy chandeliers at the Wharf Theatre, Christie Whelan Browne commands centre stage in a feminist pop cabaret towards self-acceptance.

Through girlhood and puberty, then to becoming a wife and mum, Whelan Browne fronts up to her toy Barbie doll – pairing pop anthems from the ’90s-2010’s (by the likes of No Doubt, Aqua and Katy Perry) to her experiences of internalised misogyny, endo, IVF, and all the imposed shames that come with never living up to plastic perfection. Smartly bookended, it begins with the devastating moment she stopped loving herself (when her primary school dance teacher made her a terrorising dinosaur in a Flintstones musical – cue hilarious family video footage), and ends with the birth of her son. 

Costume changes are on point: most memorable is a nude leotard, vengefully sprouting all the luxurious lady fur she’s lasered off. Suitably unobtrusive, Francesca Li Donni is on keyboard and back-up vocals. Suitably showy lighting is by Trent Suidgeest. Life in Plastic is as sweet, bold and vulgar as a cock-shaped lollipop, with a poignant moment near the end that springs surprising tears.

This was a one-night-only performance on January 14, find out more over here.