The Sunshine Club, Hit Productions, The Q, 31 Jul-1 Aug

 Wesley Enoch wrote "The Sunshine Club" in 1999, after his collaboration with Deborah Mailman on "7 Stages of Grieving", and it played seasons at the Queensland Theatre Company and the Sydney Theatre Company, before, as a lot of Australian musicals do, disappearing back into the memory hole. 25 years later, it's back touring the regions, following a recent Queensland Theatre Company revival, to reconsider its status as a work as part of the national canon.

For me, for whatever reason, this only sporadically realises its potential - the idea at the centre is not a bad one - looking at an Indigenous soldier, returning after World War 2 into a country that doesn't quite accept him, creating a place where he and his friends can gather, dance, listen to music and enjoy themselves in a church hall, and the threats that come when it becomes apparent those around them will never entirely see him as an equal. And certainly, it's a topic that's made for music - the sounds and the styles of the post-war years being a key part of the presentation. But John Rodgers' music rarely stretches beyond serviceable pastiche of the era, and the lyrics feel very much like a first draft - never really carrying an idea longer than the title until the penultimate number in the show. The show feels very much like it could have been a forgotten piece written in the 40s - which is nice in terms of matching style to subject, but not so much in that every beat is familiar and wanders into the territory of the cliche. There's some liveliness in some of the performances - Roxanne McDonald in particular brings life to the supportive aunty, Tehya Makini gives sister Pearl resentful energy and a sense of joy as she finds her own space, only to have her hopes cruelly dashed - but there's a lot of performances that feel more generic music-theatre acting, broad smiles and emphatic gesturing, than anything more real. There are devices that had to have felt old-fashioned in 1999 (in particular, the guy whose enthusiastic pursuit of the girl he loves looks, from 2024, a whole lot like stalking as he refuses to take emphatic "No"s for an answer) that haven't really been reconsidered for the revival, 

The set is quite a substantial one for a touring show, and the live 5 piece band are a tight unit. And the intentions of the show are honourable - exploring a moment when reconciliation could and should have been possible and enjoying it for as long as possible rather than recreating Indigenous trauma for a largely white audience. But it also means we end up with a show that, for much of its length, is awfully mild fare. The ending when it comes asks the right questions - "If not now then when" - and post-another-false-start in the history of our false starts in the process of reconciliation with the loss of the proposed voice to parliament, it hits home. But the path leading to that point doesn't cut nearly as deep - and the same ruthless eye that directed the last 10 minutes needed to work on the two hours and twenty minutes that lead up to that, to make the preparations charming and beguiling rather than just pleasant and nice. 

I don't mean to berate this show too much - in many ways it's very well put together - but the threat of making "don't frighten the horses" theatre is sometimes you instead fail to enliven them - and for too much of its running time, this didn't really enliven me. 

Mary Stuart, Chaika Theatre, ACT Hub, 24 July-3 Aug

 

Friedrich Schiller is Germany's foremost classical playwright, but his work has only recently started hitting the English language repertoire (outside of the many operas based on his work, and Beethoven's setting of his poem "Ode to Joy" in his 9th Symphony). But in the early part of the current century, his 1800 play has experienced a fair number of different productions, with adapters like Scottish playwright David Harrower and English playwrights Peter Oswald and Robert Icke giving different takes on the material. Kate Mulvaney's 2019 version considerably restructures the play and invests deeply into the two queens at the centre of a story of religious and political rivalry, and of the role their gender plays in their circumstances.

Luke Roger's production uses a central raised crucifix as the stage for the action, as Mary waits in her long imprisonment and Elizabeth holds court and decides what to do with her prisoner, under pressure from her lords and counselors to take decisive final action. In act one we see Mary's gentle give-and-take relationship with her jailer, Paulet, her confrontation with her chief accuser Burleigh and a possible sympathizer in young Mortimer, followed by time in Elizabeth's court as the rising religious tensions exacerbate tensions between her and her courtiers, including the amorous Earl of Leicester. Act Two has a surprise at one of Leicester's parties as Mary and Elizabeth (ahistorically) come face to face, and then the inevitable fate of Mary is played out. Using a mix of modern-and-classic dress, it's a stylish, strong production that asks big questions about power, access, and realpolitik. 

In the title role, Steph Roberts is magnetic - sardonic, emotive, full of lived-experience and occasional hope for better - she's a fascinating figure to watch - never quite a heroine and never really villain either, but deeply human and with a sense of her own power. Matching her as Elizabeth is Karen Vickery at her best, giving an Elizabeth fully aware of both her power and her limitations, impulsive, thoughtful, wrathful and compassionate in turn. Surrounding them is a group of men, from Cameron Thomas' gentle jailer Paulet to Jarrad West's stylishly grand Earl of Leicester and Lachlan Herring's sheepish secretary, Davison. 

Kathleen Kershaw's design combines form and function, stylish, modern yet classic, and is lit tightly by Disa Swifte. There's some great music to, from original works by Rachel Dease and Georgia Snudden, to a smart choice of dance track at the opening of act two. 

This is a fine production of the best kind of classic, an unfamiliar one, that you can come to with no preconceptions and bask in the presentational power of it. 

44 sex acts in one week, Club House Productions, The Playhouse, Canberra Theatre, 18-20 July

 A combination of Rom-Com, cultural satire, and apocalyptic thriller, this is a truly wild ride full of spectacle, disturbing sound effects, ideas and a couple of surprising visuals, played by a game-for-anything cast of 4. 

David Finnigan's recent work has shown this skill in abundance - between "Kill Climate Deniers", "Scenes from the Climate Era", "You're Safe til 2024" and this, he's been providing lively, intriguing examinations of modern predicaments for a while now. This is possibly the flashiest of them (even outflashying "Kill Climate Deniers" combination of Action Movie and cultural lecture), using Steve Toulmin's pulsing sound design as a backdrop moving us from high-level influencers to grotty loft apartment with live sound effects played by the cast on everything from a guess-who rack to an ironing board. 

The plot has a minor issue that ties into an unfortunate trend in modern Rom Coms - it doesn't seem to  spend much time making either lead particularly likeable, meaning we don't really care very much if they get together or not. The 44 Sex Acts of the title relate to a self-help-guru's evangelical statement about the liberating power of uninhibited sex (Rebecca Massey gives this guru everything she's got, moving sleekly around the stage rousing the audience with her passion). A journalist, Celina, on a click-bait women's issue blog (Amber McMahon, full of realistic frustration and  rage) agrees to re-enact those acts and review them for the blog in exchange for money that will allow her to upgrade her living situation. Helping her out, reluctantly, is part-time-office-boy, part-time-environmental-warrior Alab (Aaron Tsindos, similarly frustrated but impassioned), who is inspired by the acts to undertake his own big-scale action. Helping them out is Celina's frined Remely and Alab's friend Kalil (both played by Nancy Denis with enthusiasm, even down to the point where both of these characters are involved in an all-in-inflatable-pool-orgy). All played out with clothes on and with the assistance of various objects of fruit (what the cast does with a banana and a rockmelon is truly thrilling).

If Finnigan's biting off slightly more than he can comfortably chew (the ending when it comes feels like a hastily imposed moral reckoning on an otherwise hedonistically enjoyable evening), Sheridan Harbridge's direction stretches out to cover every mode of the play from the serious ideas hiding behind everything to the joyous nonsense around the rest of it, and holds the 75-odd minutes together well. 

Bombshells, Echo Theatre, The Q, 18-27 July

Joanna Murray-Smith is one of the busier Australian writers at the moment - she's in a bit of a boom time, between the ongoing touring season of "Julia" in various places around the country, the recent revival of "Switzerland" and her adaptation of "Uncle Vanya at the Ensemble, plus this production of her 2001 set of monologues, originally written as a virtuoso piece for Caroline O'Connor to play six seperate women from teenager to sixty-something-widow, all facing various levels of crisis. 

In this production it's played by six actresses, all giving powerhouse performances making it impossible to pick a favourite section - from Amy Kowalczuk's Beckettian stream-of-consciousness as an exhausted mother overwhelming herself with guilt to Kate Harris' speech about cacti where her personal subtext inevitably takes over, to Sally Taylor's enthusiastic competitive teen performer at the school talent show, Ella Buckley's bride on her wedding day realising increasing desperation as the big moment arrives, Alice Ferguson's widow finding her highly structured life after bereavement interrupted by a surprising encounter and Lainie Hart's visiting Cabaret star, barely aware where she is but preoccupied by her own personal crises.

Jordan Best's production keeps all 6 in view at all times, all in their separate zones of the stage, perfectly designed for them each by Roz Hall, with careful lighting by Jacob Acquilina - and between scenes we glimpse all six women as William and Jordan Best's music plays easing us between scenes, in Jens Nordstrom's witty, appropriate costumes. It's a fine presentation of the material - elegant and intimate, as we get full access to these women's individual spaces and dilemmas. 

Intriguingly, the scripts for each of the pieces have been localised but not updated - references to Laura Bush and returning videos keep these in the early 2000s when the plays were first written - though the emotional issues of different ages of women chasing contentment in relationships, in parenthood, in public acclaim, and in their personal rituals, still rings very true. 

This is a beautiful production showcasing 6 extrordinarily talented women, and is absolutely to be embraced - it's funny, emotional and rings deeply true. Murray-Smith's explorations of the challenges of contemporary women of all ages is a delightful, rich experience absolutely to be embraced and taken to your heart. 

 (Photos by Photox Canberra Photography Services)

American Idiot, Queanbeyan Players, THe Q, 20-29 June

 Green Day's 2004 album represented a progression for the band - known for their fast-punching three-minute pop-punk songs since the early 90s, the album was tied around contemporary issues of youthful alienation and post-September 11th right-wing nationalism, and used longer musical suites made up of multiple songs and recurring characters to tie together these threads into a light narrative of a confused suburbanite young man lost in the world of contemporary politics and life. In 2009 they teamed with director Michael Mayer and arranger and orchestrator Tom Kitt to build a Broadway musical based on the album, creating additional material for their follow-up album, 2009's "21st Century Breakdown", multiplying the protagonist into 3 young men, all alienated and lost as they search for purpose through drugs, through music, through relationships and through the military. 

It's a musically powerful show, from the thrashing title song to reflective songs like "Wake me up when September Ends" and "Boulevard of Broken Dreams", with Kitt's arrangements building the songs from their guitar-bass-a-vocalist-and-a-drumkit origins to embrace the power of the whole cast singing in harmony, with a string section joining the arrangements for added power. And musical directors Jen Hinton and Bridgid Cummins absolutely capture the mood and the sound, from pure thrash to delicate intimacy to powerful massed balladry. Dramatically the storytelling is a little rudimentary, with the three male protagonists largely disappointing the women in their life (two of the three female leads aren't given real names - one is "Extraordinary Girl", one is "Whatsername") - the women do have musical moments but the show, like the male characters, is never really willing to centre them for very long.  

The material is well performed, though - John Winfield as the central protagonist, Johnny, has a mix of cynicism and wounded innocence, aware that his rebellion is more talk than action. Darcy Kinsella as Will, the one who joins the army, has a sweet innocence to him that gets damaged over the course of the tale, and Zac Izzard disappears into his inner-loss as he refuses to engage with the mother of his child. Shelby Holland as Whatsername and India Cornwell as Heather both show self-determination and power as they push the messed up men in their life away, and Abigail Dunn's dancing as Extrordinary Girl is, well, suitably extraordinary. Declan Pigram as the rock-legend-tempter St. Jimmy struts with the power required to draw us all in.

The ensemble are a vigorous physical presence throughout, throwing themselves into Nathan Rutrup's energetic choreography, releasing tension and belting out the tunes with power. It's a strong, energetic production of a show that works as long as you don't think about the plot too much (and alas, I'm a reviewer so I have to think about the plot a bit). 

Dead Man's Cell Phone, Canberra Repertory Society, 13-29 June

 Sarah Ruhl's 2007 comedy is an eccentric, oddball mystery about a young woman who ties herself into the life and work of a stranger when he dies, cellphone still ringing, at a cafe, and she elects to answer the phone on his behalf. It's a play about connections - family, professional and romantic - and about how dropping yourself into the web of these connections can expose you to all kinds of surprises. 

Kate Blackhurst's production is a smooth-running simply designed delight - on a set with a few levels and a beautifully framed projection screen, it dashes around the many and varied locations that the show requires with an emphasis on the eccentric characters and the propulsion of a strange magic-realist-farce plot that takes us everywhere from a cafe to a funeral to a dinner to a stationary cupboard to environments beyond with endearing charm. It's a surprisingly warm play for one that dives into some fairly dark territory in the second act, and it's a tricky tone to maintain - a little further and this would be too-cute-to-function, a little less and it would feel like all the characters are suffering from brain damage-  but it captures a delightful tone just right.

Leading the story is Jess Waterhouse as our hapless protagonist, caught out by just trying to do the right thing but unable to abandon her mission to look after the dead man's phone calls even when real life is making it clear that there are better options out there to consider - you get the strong sense of empathy with her and her dilemmas. Elaine Noon as the ominous Mrs Gottleib enthralls from her entrance-eulogy, opinionated and direct, knowing just what she wants and how she'll go about getting it. Alex McPherson is suitably mysterious and outrageous as the mystery woman who clearly knows more than she's saying. Bruce Hardie scores in the double role of Dead Gordon who has a lot more to say post-mortem than you'd expect, and the warm and endearing brother Dwight. And Victoria Dixon as the dead man's widow, Hermia, is suitably contained until a drunk scene sees all her barriers come down and the vulnerabilities reveal herself.

The show is a lightly styalised wonder, on Cate Clelland's beautiful set and with Suzan Cooper's costumes moving from simple business-and-day-wear to some more outrageous outfits near the finale. Stephen Still and Neville Pye's lighting and sound provide solid support to the story, with the assistance of Glenn Gore Phillips' score that moves from muzak to funereal organ via George Michael to entrancing film-noir themes with a bit of Pink Panther drums to a grand romantic release - it's just on the right side of pastiche.

Having read this play a while ago I admit I found it a bit slight and tonally inconsistent, but in this production its blithe tone turns out to be a far sweeter tale than I'd expected, with an eccentric but endearing tone working just rignt.   

A Streetcar Named Desire, Free-Rain Theatre, ACT Hub, 19-29 June

 (photo by Jane Duong)

Tennessee Williams' 1947 play is a piece that's probably always going to be relevant, alas - dealing with a relationship where lust and domestic abuse are very much intermingled, and the intervention of a family member with her own dangerous past intruding on the present. It's a long play (in this production it wanders near the 3 hour mark) but justifies that length with dense character studies of four leads all caught up between their desires for escape and their fears of what that escape might mean. This is the second production I've seen in a year (after seeing a preview of the production with Sheridan Harbridge playing Blanche at the Old Fitz last year), and it's a great text to return to for a deep dive and examination. 

Primary among the cast is Amy Kowalczuk as Blanche - entering the stage and seizing attention, slightly overdressed for the working-class New Orleans two-room apartment she's in, and clearly self-medicating with alcohol to avoid past traumas. It's a performance that doesn't oversell the damage Blanche has suffered - she's just on the edge of holding on, reorienting herself constantly to keep herself in check, letting the tension bubble under for most of the play rather than releasing it. It's a role that requires her to move between snobbishness, self-righteousness, melancholy, joy, viciousness, outrage, protectiveness, fear and finally catatonia, and she strikes every note perfectly. 

Alex Hoskison matches her as Stanley - this is a role wildly different from what he gave us in February in his monologue in "Queers", but whereas that role was delicate and sensitive, Stanley is earthy, practical and assertive - a simple man with rage under the surface, as he seeks to repel what he sees as Blanche's invasion on his property - alienating him against his wife, her barbs against his lack of couth, and his pride at not being taken advantage of. In the early stages of the play he sells Stanley as a dumb-guy-who-thinks-he's-smart kicking out at those around him who he can physically dominate, either through sex with his wife or through physical intimidation with the men around him. 

Meaghen Stewart as Stella has the challenge of intervening between the two of them - forgiving and protective of her sister but equally in thrall of her husband - the lust between the two of them is palpable as hell, but so is the warmth between the sisters. She gives the character her own integrity - even as we know that her devotion to her husband is as big a delusion as any that Blanche suffers from, we still feel what draws them together. 

Lachlan Ruffy makes a long-awaited return to Canberra stages for the first time in a fully-rehearsed play since 2018's "Switzerland", playing the gentle Mitch who turns out to be not quite the pushover he appears - there's real chemistry between him and Kowalczuk as she enthralls him, and there's a danger in the breakup scene as he shares his contempt for her then realises how close to the edge he's going and consciously steps back. His despair in the final scene is palpable.

Elsewhere the cast seizes small moments, from Sarah Hull's supportive Eunice going through her own issues upstairs of the apartment, Tim Stiles' presence as another bullish man sharing racist jokes at poker and enacting his own messy relationship dynamics at the edge of the story to the gentle reassuring presence of David Bennett at the end of the play. 

There are some issues with details at the edge of the play - Blanche's collapible bed never moves from its closed position onstage, scene transitions are a little clunky and the more surreal moments near the end of the play don't entirely feel set up or followed through. But at its core this is a strong production of a classic,  led by strong performances at the centre.