Two different plays share the stage in a double bill that explores passion and vulnerability. James Hazelden's Dark Erotica Quartet offers three short, loosely linked vignettes about sex and intimacy, while Samuel Beckett’s Footfalls follows an elderly woman speaking to her unseen mother, a meditation on memory and presence. Both pieces are carefully contained, but each invites the audience into varying kinds of human experience.
Each story in Dark Erotica Quartet stands alone, yet they converse with one another, forming a small universe of desire and openness. Under Blake Barnard’s perceptive direction, Hazelden’s script leans into sensual imagery and frank dialogue that is sexual without being crude. The comedy lands, but never at the expense of the characters, whose sexual natures are treated with authenticity and seriousness. When one reflects on the time a partner’s tears fell on his erect penis, it is delivered not as a joke, but with blunt, candid honesty.
Dylan Van Den Berg's Whitefella Yella Tree follows Ty, of the River Mob, and Neddy, of the Mountain Mob, who meet under a lemon tree and, over time, grow from cheeky teenage messengers into young men in love as their world changes beneath the shadow of colonisation. With direction from Declan Greene and Amy Sole, the narrative weaves together Blak queerness, the pain of dispossession, and the weight of the past with a sharp, poetic edge.
Joseph Althouse and Danny Howard are terrific as Ty and Neddy. Althouse shines as the more anxious Ty, always glancing to Neddy for reassurance. He depicts Ty’s sensitivity beautifully, letting emotional shifts play out with a quiet honesty. Howard, on the other hand, plays Neddy with a rush of excitement and bravado, the kind of kid who believes nothing bad could ever touch him, while hinting at the loyalty and warmth that make him such a compelling counterpart to Ty. As the story moves on and the years roll by, we watch them shift from boys into men shaped by very different paths. Through it all, the two share a surprising softness and affection, and Greene and Sole guide them into moments that feel intimate and earned.
Anyone who enters the acting industry longs for their big break - whether as a star, a supporting player, or a quirky character actor. But the harsh reality is that not everyone gets that moment in the spotlight. Sometimes, all you can do is settle for being the understudy. Written and performed by Eva Seymour, The Understudy is a wonderfully sharp, funny, and heartfelt look at the life of someone always waiting in the wings.
As we take our seats, it’s clear we’re in for an intense performance as our protagonist fervently reads Chekhov’s To the Actor - a manifesto urging actors to dig deep, be honest, and fully inhabit their roles. From there, the show spins into a whirlwind of backstage yearning, comic mishaps, and the obsessive and slightly dangerous drive of someone determined to shine, even if they are not centre stage.
