The best shows to see on Sydney stages this week

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...

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...

Set in Madrid, the narrative action of Song Of First Desire occupies two distinct time frames. In the present day, acerbic twins Luis (Jorge Muriel) and Julia (Kerry Fox) are dealing with the mental decline of their ageing mother, Camelia (Sarah Peirse).  Meanwhile, in 1968, where Spain is under the fascist Franco regime, police commander Carlos (Muriel again) and his wife Carmen (Fox again) find their preparations for their daughter’s wedding disrupted when the latter encounters Margarita (Peirse, and you can see the pattern by now, surely), a woman who seems to know them from the past. “The past” in this case is the play’s third temporal setting: the Spanish Civil War of 1936-1939 and the White Terror that followed, in which Franco’s Nationalists enacted bloody purges and reprisals on the Spanish people, replete with mass extrajudicial executions and the torture of suspected dissidents. None of the on-stage action takes place in that period, but everything we see is rooted there – the sins of the past cast a heavy pall over the characters and the substance of the play itself, which deals with generational trauma, family secrets, incest, perversity, colonialism, and the rhyming nature of history, both personal and political. These are familiar themes for acclaimed Australian playwright Andrew Bovell. His 2008 play When the Rain Stopped Falling covers similar territory, and employs a comparably twisty approach to chronology. Song Of First Desire sees Bovell reteaming with...

Sydney Theatre Company’s new production of Amy Herzog’s 4000 Miles marks the second time this comedic-yet-tense finalist for the 2013 Pulitzer Prize for Drama has appeared on the Sydney stage. With a focus on struggle, resilience and change in both the personal and generational senses, the play explores the evolving relationship between 21-year-old Leo (Shiv Palekar, The Tempest) and his 91-year-old grandmother, Vera (Nancye Hayes).  After Leo’s cross-country cycling trip goes terribly wrong, no one is more surprised than Vera when he turns up on the doorstep of her Greenwich Village apartment in the middle of the night. Over the course of this one-act drama, the pair navigates grief, identity, generational differences, and the weight of the past.  Kenneth Moraleda’s direction brings out the play’s delicate balance of humour and emotional depth, ensuring that each moment feels intimate and impactful, and a sense of the love and care between Leo and Vera is quickly established. However, something about this play left this reviewer wanting more. [Nancye] Hayes is a dynamic performer...with fantastic comedic timing Although both Leo and Vera’s motivations remain uncertain, one thing is made clear: both protagonists are staunchly counter-cultural ‘lefties’. But this doesn’t mean they always see eye to eye. Leo is an impassioned young Obama-era ‘woke-ist’ who’s critical of the 'institution' – although his girlfriend Bec (Ariadne Sgouros, Belvoir’s The Curious Incident of the...

Ah, the Titanic. An unsinkable cultural icon, the “Ship of Dreams” has appeared in almost as many movies and stage productions as the songs of Canada’s queen of the power ballad, Céline Dion. It’s even got a two-and-a-half-hour (surprisingly serious) movie musical adaptation based on Maury Yeston’s Titanic: the Musical. Although, none can hold a candle to the cultural impact of James Cameron’s 1997 blockbuster – you know, the one with Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio. So, with nostalgia being such hot property right now, it was only a matter of time before we got the camp-as-hell musical fantasia made-for-and-by-the-gays that is Titanique. Created by Marla Mindelle (who originated the role of Céline Dion – well, as imagined in this show), Constantine Rousouli (who originated the role of Jack) and director Tye Blue (whose countless industry credits include working on the casting team of RuPaul’s Drag Race), Titanique is revisionist history at its best. Loaded with Céline Dion’s greatest bangers, it casts Queen Dion herself (played so wonderfully by cabaret legend Marney McQueen here in Aus) as the narrator of the tragic tale, who continuously places herself at the center of the action – quite literally – much to Jack and Rose’s repeated dismay. It brings the campness of the film to the front, with Stephen Anderson (Mary Poppins) playing Rose’s awful mother Ruth (complete with a bird’s nest headpiece), and Abu Kebe (Choirboy) playing a brilliant, tear-jerking drag parody...

Let’s just start by saying I’m not a D&D player. I’ve played a couple of times with my family, led by my teenage son as Dungeon Master, but that was just to show interest in something he loves. So I do understand the basics – that said, you don’t need any prior knowledge of D&D to get swept up in the magic that is Dungeons and Dragons The Twenty-Sided Tavern. If anything, this show is probably the best way I’ve found so far to get a better grasp on the complex game that is D&D. This is an interactive show that began in New York as an Off-Broadway production – the same director, Michael Fell, also rehearsed with the Australian cast. In what ways is it interactive? The story lies in the audience’s hands, as well as with the roll of the 20-sided dice.  As you enter The Studio at the Sydney Opera House, you pick a coloured sticker from a basket. Depending on what colour you choose, you get aligned with one of the three classes: Warrior, Mage (Wizard) or Assassin/Entertainer. Throughout the show, you make decisions for the character in your assigned class, mostly by choosing options via your mobile phone (after scanning a QR code) – and sometimes just by yelling out. (Top tip:Make sure you turn up with a fully-charged phone.) You answer polls and take part in little games to choose what character the actors play, then make decisions or see the outcomes of characters’ actions. Dice rolls are directed by the Dungeon Master, played by the charismatic Cody Simpson-lookalike William...

Aria is a tasteful black comedy for Kirribilli’s Ensemble Theatre, doing the job its audience wants it to do – it offers plenty of laughs, a few political jabs here and there, but never pushes the envelope too far, with veteran playwright David Williamson playing it safe in this brand new offering. The play has the airs of Don’s Party for the upper echelons of society, but without the depth of Williamson’s more well-known works. This tale of blind prejudice focuses around the matriarchal Monique (Tracy Mann, Belvoir’s The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime), whose adult sons are the jewel of her eye as she refuses to let go of the past. A true narcissist to her bones, Monique seemingly gave up her career as an opera singer for love and family, despite her incessant insistence that she could have been the next big thing. The need for perfection now overrules everything in the path of Monique’s lifestyle, with her son’s wives needing to be perfect “acquisitions for the family” rather than loving partners for her boys that can do no wrong. But now, the wives have had enough, and Monique is in for a rude awakening. Tracy Mann is the perfect step-monster-in-law; whose vanity blinds her to the broken shards of a family in front of her Australia’s most prolific playwright, Williamson’s earlier works explored the depths of the working classes’ struggles against the classist turmoil of white Australia. Now, we’re on the other side of the class divide, and while the...

In these doomy, divisive, very silent Munch scream times, there seems to be two reigning preoccupations, especially among progressives. The first: what kind of future awaits mankind and all the Earth, given our rapacious, post-industrial, apocalypse-inciting tendencies? The second: when our culture wars have such seemingly unbreachable battle lines, what collateral is there at the level of interpersonal relationships – and in particular, matters of the heart? Similar to Flat Earthers (a new musical from a trio of young writers  that debuted at the Hayes last year) Alana Valentine’s new play Nucleus asks whether love can survive fundamental differences between two people, or is it somehow separate? Yet, where Flat Earthers was incredibly gay (in both senses), riotously bonkers, and had its young lesbian lovers disagree on a very literal reality (“is the world round or flat?”) – Nucleus is prickly, sombre, and has its central duo of boomer one-night-standers at odds on the trickier level of personal values.  We meet Gabriel (prolific actor of the Aussie stage and screen, Peter Kowitz) first. Standing beneath a large glowing helix sculpture and on a luminous circular stage at the Seymour Centre, he monologues a blustering, gruff, self-aggrandising account of his long career as a nuclear engineer. Were it not for PM McMahon, he boasts, his site analysis would’ve seen Jervis Bay become a territory for a nuclear power station in the ’60s. Nucleus places us in the collision path...

Perhaps it’s unpatriotic to suggest it, but I’d argue that Australia has produced strikingly few immortal works of art, particularly narrative art. But, we’ll always have Picnic at Hanging Rock – which can make a strong claim for being the most important Australian artistic work of the 20th century, and one that still casts a shadow over the 21st.  The novel by Joan Lindsay first saw the light of day in 1967, but it was Peter Weir’s 1975 film adaptation – a haunting and subtle work and the ne plus ultra of Australian Gothic – that really struck a chord with audiences. This year marks the film’s 50th anniversary, which seems to be the reason behind this haunting new production for Sydney Theatre Company’s 2025 season, the latest of numerous stage adaptations.  STC Resident Director Ian Michael (Constellations, Stolen) and playwright Tom Wright (whose adaptation was first staged by Malthouse Theatre and Black Swan Theatre in 2016) are certainly betting on Picnic at Hanging Rock’s cultural staying power. This Picnic is in no way naturalistic, but it certainly evokes a sense of the uncanny Both Lindsay’s novel and Weir’s film are elliptical and meditative, posing questions rather than offering answers. This production is perhaps more opaque than either, taking an experimental direction that ramps up the themes of horror and suspense. This works a treat in the early movements of the play, keeping the audience off kilter, forcing us to engage with a conceptual realm where time,...

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...