Red Phoenix Theatre/Holden Street Theatres. The Studio. 26 Oct 2025
Irish playwright/screenwriter Martin McDonagh’s work for stage and film is redolent with incisive black humour. Suddenly daring audiences over the hill of unsettling plot surprises and somehow despite it all, to laugh even if choking back or silently inner giggling.
Hangmen centres on a momentous historical moment in UK history. End of capital punishment; the noose, hanging, was partially introduced in 1965. Made fully permanent in 1969. Meet them. Visit their twisted world. Twisted morality. Twisted humour.
Managing balance of absurdist darkness and light in McDonagh’s script, along with its pacing is Director Nick Fagan’s humongous challenge. Too dark and fast, lose the impact. Too slow and lighter in levity, also lose impact as well as meaning. It’s a hard ride to balance and he manages it.
Fagan gets the gist of Hangmen in the crucial first scene on which so much to follow is dependent, the last fatefully stuffed up execution Harry Wade (Brant Eustice) and assistant Syd Armfield (Jack Robins) carried out. A young lad later found to be innocent.
A black, challenging scene, it sets the tone for the production.
Banter between Hennessy (Trevor Anderson), protesting his innocence and Harry Wade cajoling, then viciously subduing the doomed man is wickedly absorbing. Play like yet appalling in its ordinary, yet artfully delivered, laughter inducing, bent cheeriness.
They’re quite a piece of work these former Hangmen. Harry Wade particularly, reigning supreme in his noose adorned pub, monstrous ego suborning cobbled together sympathetic locals; Deaf Arthur (Greg Janzow,) Charlie (Leighton Vogt,) stylish gin tippling wife Alice (Rachel Dalton) and moody daughter Shirley (Finty McBain).
Distinctly powerful pall of jovial morbidity emanates from Wade’s glee laden preening pride about his former profession and status. Permeates his every sledgehammer delivered word, even if meant in easy going bar jest. Lies leaden over all assembled, with the exception of old comrade Inspector Fry (Russell Slater.)
The world in Act One is bleakly chilly even if Richard Parkhill’s lighting offers a delicious warm hued wash over the set and upbeat tunes of the 60s play in scene changes.
Ennobling death at hands of “servants of the Crown, “deserving of circumspection and quiet self-counsel is a sickening thing to ponder even if such pomposity is absurd in its hilarity. Especially when Wade gives a newspaper interview to Derek Clegg (Tom Tassone).
Cracking the façade of this world is an equally arrogant, quite bitter, dangerous witted pub blow in Pom Peter Mooney (Joshua Coldwell.)
In Mooney, McDonagh has an anti-Wade type. Or is he? Mooney denies he and the Inspector know each other. Berates locals even as he sits apart from them. Shatters the power structure of the pub. Certainly doesn’t kowtow to the Hangman.
Coldwell’s Mooney is magnificently equal to Eustice’s Wade. They pass very pointed barbs in Act One, but no more. After Mooney has had a chat with Shirley and suggests a later catch up, she heads out ahead of Mooney.
Act Two is rapid paced with an edginess obliterating heady self-congratulatory, boorish, selfish and controlling darkness of Act One in which Wade pulls every string.
Armfield’s guilt over Hennessy has manifested itself fully. He knows Mooney. Mooney knows he may be suspect over Shirley’s disappearance. Is he?
Wade’s Hangmen code of security is suddenly violated.
In essence, law or lawlessness become intertwined in a confusing battle mired in judgemental controlling vengefulness.
No matter how dark or dire Act Two gets, as the clock ticks down to a final moment, McDonagh is still pulling out blackest, absurd humour. The great, very angry Hangman Alfred Pierrepoint’s (Gary George) rage over Wade’s describing him as smelling like death is the most brilliant comic counterpoint to a most shocking hidden moment.
The absolute absurdity is the point of Hangmen. Death as law. Absurd. Celebrating its demise while lauding it. Absurd. So absurd it needs to be funny to see just how absurd it all is.
David O’Brien
When: 24 Oct to 2 Nov
Where: The Studio, Holden Street Theatres
Bookings: holdenstreettheatres.com
Windmill Theatre Company. Space Theatre. 11 Oct 2024
Tardigrades: microscopic, eight legged, segmented micro-animals. Also known as waterbears or moss piglets, tardigrades are incredibly resilient, able to survive extreme conditions such as dehydration, starvation, extreme temperatures, extreme pressures, radiation and exposure to outer space.
In a South Park episode from last decade, Jimmy and Timmy enter waterbears into the South Park Special Ed Science Fair. Nathan and Mimsy try to sabotage the project by trying to kill them but unfortunately, it just makes them stronger. Oh, and they dance the hokey pokey.
With Moss Piglet, Windmill have tapped into the fascination with tardigrades (check out tardigrade tattoos on Reddit and Insta); eschewing the adults who have made them ‘a thing’, they’ve gone for that audience that’s even more delighted with small, small things. And just as in South Park, these moss piglets prove to be very, very resilient.
Two scientists (Gareth Davies and Dylan Miller) receive a moss piglet in a petri dish, and being scientists, they conduct experiments upon the tiny creature. It is subjected to desert conditions, arctic frosts and is plunged into the deep sea. Finally it is sent into space. Each time the hapless pair believe that it has died, it reconstitutes itself, ready for its next adventure.
A narrator, voice suitable for the most likely of science documentaries, takes us through the early stages of the show until we are up to speed. Two points in science need be made: not all scientists are men, and not all scientists are nerds (though this latter point can be debated).
It is all quite a remarkable premise on which to base a children’s show, but it works. This is as much due to the technical expertise of the Windmill crew as the subject matter itself. A back screen on Meg Wilson’s simple ‘laboratory’ set hosts projections where we see the tardigrade through an emulated microscope; the round ‘screen’ becomes a window for us to see the worlds the microscopic creature inhabits. Seamlessly the audience is able to transfer their attention from the stage to the round screen. Video and AV Designer Michael Carmody creates deserts, tundras and oceans, all beautifully lit by Chris Petridis and Richard Vabre.
At the front of the stage is a small mast, perhaps a metre high. It is not intrusive, indeed it is largely overlooked until minispots provide the lighting and the backward facing camera picks up the scene… suddenly there is a whole new dimension in the action to observe, a close up face cam and later on when in space, a spinning gravity free astronaut. This is a perspective which has clearly been experimented with, added to the cast (so to speak) for its ability to give an entirely different view of proceedings, and it also assists in keeping things moving along. There is only one instance in this performance where the audience attention wandered, and it was so obvious it was palpable, but within a minute things were back on track.
Luke Smiles provides the soundtrack for this production, and who could fault his choices of America’s Horse With No Name for the desert scenes or Bowie’s Space Oddity as we blast off into space?
The moss piglet itself is represented multiple ways: as a wriggly little creature on the back projected microscope; a small puppet crawling through the desert; an even larger one (okay, a human sized actor quickly jumping into a mossy piglet suit) and finally a larger than life creature to close the show. Because of the multiple perspectives in seeing the performance none of this change in scale seems strange or confusing. Only the appearance of a Volcano God doing some kind of salsa dance seemed odd and slightly forced; an attempt to show moss piglets could survive in some of the harshest environment, yet not perhaps in fresh lava fields.
The scientists, Davies and Miller, also take on multiple characters, including playing the moss piglet, and this keeps the audience intrigued as to what will happen next. The only slow spot in the show was the underwater scene with jellyfish, delightful but slightly dragging. It did however, seem to prove that tardigrade can survive even the sting of the man-o-war jellyfish.
It picked up immediately as the piglet zoomed into space, again with wonderful tech work to place the tardigrade inside the rocket ship with the astronauts. A fitting technological climax, our tardigrade hero clambers from his glass bowl home, joins the astronauts on their journey through a change in scale, and blasts off into space accompanied by the oohs and aahs of the audience, who are completely captivated by this new adventure.
Director and Co-creator Clare Watson (along with Elena Carapetis and Gareth Davies) has achieved something quite remarkable if we consider this adventure in the wider sphere. Bringing science and kids together at a theatre show about tiny bugs is quite the achievement. That it holds the attention so completely is testament enough. Clever, thoughtful, experimental and super fun. But wait; that’s not all! A good number of the kids were delighted to find an interactive display in the foyer outside the theatre after the show.
Arna Eyers-White
When: 11 to 30 Oct
Where: Space Theatre
Bookings: ticketek.com.au
Elder Conservatorium Music Theatre. Little Theatre, University of Adelaide. 10 Oct 2024
Alice by Heart is a musical with music by Grammy Award nominated Duncan Sheik, lyrics by Steven Sater (Tony, Grammy and Laurence Olivier Award winner, best known for the 2006 Broadway musical Spring Awakening), and book by Steven Sater and Jessie Nelson. Set in World War II, it follows Alice Spencer as she escapes the trauma of a London bombing by retreating into Lewis Carrol’s iconic children’s novel Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. In a hospital quarantine ward with her dying friend Alfred, they relive the classic story in their tortured minds. As Alice says, “we can make it all chipper.” The musical premiered off-Broadway at MCC Theatre in February 2019.
This production by The Elder Conservatorium Music Theatre (ECMT) is a total delight and continues the fine tradition of quality musicals presented by ‘the Con’ since the inception of the music theatre degree program in 2019. It follows hot on the heels of their hugely successful production of Jesus Christ Superstar just a few weeks ago. ECMT has been very busy!
Staged in the University of Adelaide’s intimate Little Theatre, this production is full of surprises. It demonstrates that The Little Theatre is indeed an incredibly versatile performance space and a valuable asset to Adelaide. It must never be allowed to be downgraded, or ‘disappear’, like other theatres in the Festival State! The Little Theatre can be a difficult space to ‘work’, but in the right hands, and with the right resources, it can come up trumps. In her program notes, director Erin James states “The absence of set symbolises both the void left by war and the limitless expanse of the mind, and so we have relied on imagination in the same way as our characters do in the show: when we have nothing, we create.” Her words are unnecessarily apologetic, but she correctly identifies the importance of imagination, and what an imagination she, co-creatives, and her students have!
The first thing that grabs you as the show begins is Chris Snape’s strikingly effective lighting design. It quickly evokes the terror of being trapped in London’s underground railway stations while war rages above, and in the blink of an eye, it transforms to convey the dizzying and colourful imagination of a child. Also quickly apparent, once Alice and Alfred have entered the wonderland that is Lewis Carrol’s novel, is that the entire cast have all created beautifully observed and nuanced characters that ‘leap off the page’. There is not a weak link anywhere. They are uniformly strong, and there is always something captivating to look at and let play with your own imagination!
The set is eye-catching, moody, and functional. It has sufficient and appropriate detail to identify time and location, and the set dressings and properties are efficiently moved around the stage by the cast with style. On occasions, it is almost breathtaking how quickly changes happen, and sometimes they are not even noticed. Excellent stage management!
Costuming, wigging and makeup is highly stylised where it needs to be, and adds to the overall characterisation
There are seventeen named characters in the cast, and sometimes there’s not a lot of free space on stage, but it never feels crowded or restricted, because the choreography is slick, purposeful, highly creative, and just plain fun to look at. (The program doesn’t formally credit a choreographer, so kudos to Amelia Chapman (dance captain), Jacinda Tsakalos (assistant) and of course director Erin James).
The dance and integrated choreographic routines offer so much to look at and enjoy, but Chillin’ the Regrets, The Key is, and Your Shell of Grief are just … well, just wow! They demonstrate superb use of tightly controlled lighting, imaginative use of the acting space, and clever choreography that enhances the story telling. They aren’t merely dance routines. And of course, even during the most energetic dance sequences, the ensemble is all the time singing while demonstrating excellent articulation, precise breath control, and polished harmonisation.
Musically, the production is high quality. (What would you expect from the celebrated ‘Con’?) Production Manager and Music Director Peter Johns plays keyboard and leads a band of six others on guitar, drums, reeds, trumpet, and cello. They are finely balanced and never dominate the singers, and the synchronisation is well-defined. Mosaic Audio Visual Pty Ltd provides sound design, sound mixing and radio microphone services, and they never falter. Clearly substantial skill, design, planning, and rehearsal time has been invested to ensure a first-rate listening experience.
Chorus numbers are well sung, and for the most part solos, duets and small ensemble numbers are impressively handled, and there are some bravura tongue-in-cheek moments along the lines of ‘anything you can sing I can sing better’! Highly amusing!
Throughout the performance, the sense of purposeful and disciplined ensemble is palpable. Elder Conservatorium Music Theatre‘s Alice by Heart is all for one and one for all, and it is a truly joyous experience. Long may ECMT produce such fabulous work!
Kym Clayton
When: 10 to 12 Oct
Where: Little Theatre
Bookings: Closed
Motus Collective. Space Theatre. 3 Oct 2024
Motus Collective’s spellbinding dance work, The Leftovers, combines passionate, highly skilled and finely wrought contemporary dance with an enigmatic sculptural installation.
As the audience enters, four performers are already moving about, slowly, as if in a latent state. The performance space, a white floor, is set out as a long rectangle, with the audience on either side, as if observing the action in a narrow arena. There are two white plaster, human-like statues at one end of this space — a very tall figure with elongated arms and a blob-like figure with three hands cupped in supplication. A third figure at the other end lies on its back with legs vertical.
The dancers — Felicity Boyd, Tayla Hoadley, Sophie Hollingworth and Isobel Stolinski — are clad in white, with whitened hair and skin, as if they are statues brought to life. Above the performance space are dozens of disembodied, white plaster hands and feet suspended in rows to demarcate the performance space’s third dimension and outline the universe within which the action takes place.
As the performance begins, a guttural, distorted voice from above delivers a long reflective statement beginning with, “Where did you go and why did you leave?”, suggesting the absence of a person who was close. Alix Kuijpers’s gripping electronic soundtrack creates the feel of an epic sci-fi narrative and Kobe Donaldson’s lighting varies from intensely bright white light to forbiddingly dim light and there are occasional stroboscopic effects. The overall design creates a highly charged atmosphere.
As the performance progresses, the four dancers move about as if encountering themselves, the space, each other and, ultimately, the statues. At times the dance is agitated, chaotic, as if the dancers are undergoing a turbulent transformation. Sometimes the dancers form pairs whose synchronised movements suggest fleeting relationships. Passages of movement are repeated as if the dancers are reengaging with themselves, all the while searching for something. Zoe Gay’s expressive choreography is mesmerising, as the dancers push the boundaries of human movement.
Motus Collective, The Leftovers, Image supplied
The statue of the tall figure is a central character in the drama, perhaps representing a god or a totem. At one point, a dancer perches on the shoulders of another dancer, raising her to the same height as the tall figure so as to confront it. The dancers sometimes lie on their backs on the floor with legs raised as if mimicking the statue of the supine figure.
In the final moments of the performance, a stream of white liquid trickles down from between the suspended plaster hands and feet onto one of the dancers, as if this individual is being remade from the primal substance from which all life is created.
The statues also recall the plaster casts of bodies retrieved from the ruins of Pompei, but they are distorted, with misshapen bodies and elongated limbs as if they are caricatures. They were made by visual artist Nick Hanisch four years ago as independent artworks, and evidently they inspired the creation of The Leftovers and were incorporated into Hanisch’s design for it. He states, “The sculptures for The Leftovers were created while contemplating the exoskeletons left behind by our past selves.”
In the program note, the Motus Collective directors, Felicity Boyd and Zoe Gay, reveal that the theme of the performance is the question of what makes us who or what we are. They remind us that the cells in the human body are replaced every seven years, cyclically re-creating our bodies. This biological re-creation becomes a metaphor for the re-creation or evolution of our selves. And yet we do not notice this perpetual evolutionary and rediscovery process.
The Leftovers is an engrossing dance-work, and the performances and the production are outstanding. Most of all, The Leftovers invites us to reflect on who we are: if our physical bodies do not define us, then what does? And what is the nature of the choreography of life that we must learn in order to navigate our universe?
Chris Reid
When: 3 to 5 October
Where: Space Theatre
Bookings: Closed
Motus Collective, The Leftovers, Image supplied
John Frost for Crossroads Live Australia. Her Majesty’s Theatre. 3 Oct 2024
The original production of this ‘50s themed rock & roll musical in Chicago in 1971 was apparently quite raunchy and vulgar. Grease was nominated for a great number of Tony awards for its Broadway productions - but never a winner. Yet, it is often reprised because nostalgia is a lot of fun and the songs are catchy. Grease Is The Word is an anthem of being authentic. It was written by Barry Gibb for the hugely successful movie of 1978. Teenagers love it. “Was there really bullying back then? Even without mobile phones?” And their parents love it. “That Danny Zuko is still so cool.”
Director Luke Joslin has created an all-Australian supercharged production of such intensity your ears and eyes and everything in between might explode. James Browne’s costumes are cartoonishly chromatic, and his wigs look like they were sculptured by strong winds. Trudy Dalgleish’s lighting plot is a practice run for the opening ceremonies of the 2032 Olympic Games in Brisbane. Michael Waters’s sound design is equally sensorily assaulting.
Madeleine Mackenzie’s hyperkenetic choreography mixes genres with gusto and competed with the Rydell bleachers for perpetual motion. It is often difficult to know where to look. I didn’t notice if Jay Laga’aia’s Vince Fontaine was sufficiently lascivious. Greased Lightnin’ was fueled with a bevy of what looked like helmeted go-cart drivers. The drawback is that intimacy suffers. Freddy My Love loses its sweetness smothered by a Victoria Secret parade. Paulini’s Teen Angel is accompanied by a whole host of angels. What ought to be a reflective lecture from one’s higher self turns into a Southern Baptist Revival meeting. However, Mackenzie Dunn’s overly dour Rizzo belts out There Are Worse Things I Could Do in one of the show’s few intimacies.
Musical director Kohan Van Sambeeck’s score was more oversaxed on some songs than even Rizzo, but the new arrangements augmented good old rock and roll wonderfully.
Director Joslin continues the film invention of having Sandy hail from Australia. In between Summer Nights and You’re The One That I Want is the love story. Fabian Andrés’ and Annelise Hall’s Danny and Sandy pirouette in and out of each other’s hearts until the dominatrix scene of You’re The One That I Want. They make these scenes and songs ooze with longing and lust respectively.
Did all the pyrotechnics that Joslin loads into his Grease make it better? The standing ovation on opening night and the curtain call cum dance party seemed to say so. The technical firepower available to directors nowadays can overpower the intimacy and authenticity of the teenage angst so replete in Grease’s book and lyrics. Importantly, Grease is the words.
P.S. The late, great Adelaide theatre empressario, Matt Byrne, was once on the radio giving away tickets to his local production of Grease, and an older woman on the phone screamed in broken English, “Greece! Greece! I’ve won tickets to Greece!” When the phone was passed to a younger voice, she said, “Wow, this is amazing. When do we go?” and Matt said next week. The daughter said they couldn’t possibly go; could we go in two months? And Matt said “No, the production would be over by then”. And then it dawned on everybody what was going on.
David Grybowski
When: 28 Sep to 26 Oct
Where: Her Majesty’s Theatre
Bookings: ticketek.com.au