Australian Open review | Midsumma Festival | Theatre Works

Australian Open centres on Felix, a happily partnered, newly turned 31-year-old gay man navigating an open relationship with Lucas, an “elite athlete” in the world of professional tennis. Amidst Australian Open fever, Felix finds himself having drinks with Lucas, and his parents, Belinda and Peter, a situation he would rather avoid, but cannot. What begins as a polite social obligation quickly unfolds into an awkward and revealing discussion about love, relationships, and identity; one that forces them all to confront not only each other, but themselves while serving plenty of laughs along the way.

Eddie Orton is captivating as Lucas, an arrogant, driven, and painfully self-assured presence that is played with slick confidence, but allows for  glimpses of genuine tenderness and affection to surface. Sebastian Li provides an excellent counterbalance as the anxious Felix, whose energy contrasts neatly with Lucas’s certainty. While Felix is comfortable in an open relationship with Lucas, he visibly bristles at the prospect of his parents exploring their own relationship, a tension Li handles with hilarious restraint.

Jane Montgomery Griffiths is a standout as Belinda, portraying a performance that is riotously funny and emotionally grounded. Her comic instinct is impeccable, particularly with instances where her vocal work carries the scene, and resisting the urge to tip into caricature. Belinda's dramatic moments feel authentic, lived-in, and human, grounding the show’s broader ideas on ageing, desire, and learning who you are. A conversation between her and Felix discussing her sex life produces one of the loudest laughs of the night, a testament to Angus Cameron’s razor-sharp writing and Griffiths’ fearless delivery.

The ensemble - which also includes Melissa Kahraman and Alec Gilbert - brings a lively, cohesive dynamism to the stage, with group scenes buzzing with momentum and clarity. There is a wonderful sense that everyone is playing the same game, which is a credit to Riley Spadaro’s direction in ensuring the performances are smooth and free of any forced or unforced errors (tennis puns will stop now).  

Cameron’s script is packed with incisive one-liners, but the humour is never just decorative. The play digs into discussions around monogamy, open relationships, and polyamory, examining how people at different stages of life negotiate love, identity, and expectation. One of the show’s strengths is its refusal to treat self-discovery as something reserved for the young; reinvention is ongoing, messy, and deeply shaped by generational perceptions and pressures.

Visually, the production is clean and effective. Harry Gill’s costume design leans heavily into tennis club aesthetics, with white shorts, tops, socks, and shoes, which reinforces the homogenous society being presented. When costumes change, they do so with intention and impact. The set echoes this simplicity, with tennis ball-inspired tables and chairs, a blue-blocked stage marked by crisp white lines reminiscent of a tennis court, and silver disco balls hanging overhead, adding a subtle flair to the otherwise controlled environment.

Sidney Younger’s lighting design complements the action beautifully, shifting seamlessly between intimate conversations and the more comedic beats, while subtly reinforcing the tennis inspired aesthetic. Jack Burmeister’s sound design heightens the friction and drama, but also carves out moments of release for the characters and the audience.

Spadaro keeps the show moving at pace, matching its sporting backdrop with quick exchanges and sharp transitions. It is keenly observed and consistently funny, while still making space for reflection. Australian Open is an entertaining exploration of ambition, intimacy, and the complicated business of figuring yourself out, again and again.

SHOW DETAILS

Venue: Theatre Works, 14 Acland St, St Kilda
Season: until 31 Jan | Tues - Sat 7pm, Sat 2pm
Duration: 75 minutes
Tickets: $42 Full | $34 Conc
Bookings: Midsumma Festival

Image credit: Sarah Clarke