Fu@k! I Killed The Director plunges two actors into total chaos at Melbourne Fringe

What do you do when you kill your director on opening night? If you’re the two actors at the centre of FU@K! I KILLED THE DIRECTOR, apparently, you carry on with the production. Blending clowning, mime, dance and a does of chaos, the new work from Alright? Production Company throws two desperate performers into the aftermath of a very unfortunate accident, as they attempt to keep their adaptation of Romeo & Juliet alive while facing the small matter of their dead director. Created by Nina Hopley, Alana Louise and Jason Schwab and performed by Louise and Schwab, the 50-minute farce promises an anarchic, physical and distinctly unpredictable Fringe experience.

The piece takes a pretty spectacular theatrical disaster and turns it into a celebration of play, silliness and letting go. "Two actors, Cherry and John, are about to debut their rendition of Romeo & Juliet. But moments before the curtain goes up, they accidentally kill their director. Covered in blood and reeling from the shock of the freak death, they then do their best to keep the performance alive in front of the audience. It gets absurd, messy and nonsensical, and there are even some real emotional gut punches," Schwab tells me.

The Valuer review | Barking Spider Creative | Melbourne Fringe Festival | GalleryGallery INC

How much is that weird little object you’ve been holding onto for years actually worth? The Valuer invites audiences to find out, bringing their knick-knacks to a Suprahuman Valuer for assessment. Created by Penelope Bartlau and Jason Lehane (of Barking Spider Creative), the immersive work plays with our ideas of value, ownership and attachment, asking whether we really want to keep the things we treasure once someone else puts a price on them.

In some ways, this is a sequel to Barking Spider Creative’s The Collector, which I attended last year. Both works explore the stories and worth we attach to everyday objects, but this time the experience is personalised. Rather than engaging with a room of curiosities with another participant, we have our own consultation with the assessor, creating something smaller in scope but no less playful or absorbing.

The visit begins with a brief chat with The Valuer’s familial, who fortunately manages to condense reams of paperwork and terms and conditions into a short interaction. We’re given an explanation of what to expect, without giving anything away. Once the formalities are done, we open the door and take a step inside.

Creepy Boys are promising absolutely nothing with SLUGS at Melbourne Fringe

What happens when you make a show about absolutely nothing? According to Creepy Boys, you make SLUGS, an electro-punk concert, play, clown performance and basement puppet nightmare that promises a technocolour acid trip featuring puppet Joni Mitchell, a two-person horse and, apparently, every body part they have. Created by real-life lovers S.E. Grummett and Sam Kruger, SLUGS has spent the past year travelling around the world, earning a nomination for Best Comedy Show at the 2025 Edinburgh Fringe along the way.

The tagline is as straightforward as it gets: "It’s about nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing. We promise." And they mean it. "It means it’s about nothing! We felt one nothing didn’t drive the point home, but eight…now we’re cooking. We wouldn't read into it beyond that. No need. No pesky themes to go hunting for, just relax. SLUGS is a space where, finally, you can not think about all the SOMETHINGS of the world.  An hour where you get to leave it at the door. What could go wrong?"

When magic turns to horror: Tim Ellis is bringing Darkness Is Coming to Melbourne Fringe

Darkness Is Coming is a magic show with its roots in horror. Drawing on the French Grand Guignol style of graphic, theatrical horror, award-winning magician Tim Ellis explores the mind of a psychopath looking back over his life and questioning his own reality. But there is no dialogue in this show. Instead, projections, music, sound, lighting and magic establish the world of the story, bringing fragments of the character’s imagination to life, with the audience piecing together what is happening from what they see and hear. For its Melbourne Fringe Festival season, the production comes to an intimate 32-seat theatre, where the boundaries between magic, theatre and horror begin to blur.

Elliot Wood is serving up another helping of Mrs Lovett's tasty pies at Melbourne Fringe

After surviving ovens, questionable culinary practices and, somehow, the Stephen Sondheim estate, Mrs Lovett is back. Elliot Wood’s gloriously unhinged Mrs Lovett’s Famous Meat Pies Grand Reopening Extravaganza returns for Melbourne Fringe, bringing its live pie-making antics, relentless wordplay and larger-than-life energy to the stage. With a fresh batch of madness on the menu, Wood is once again stepping into the role of everyone’s favourite ethically dubious pie-maker, ready to serve up another helping of mayhem. We caught up with Wood to talk about reviving Mrs Lovett, what audiences can expect this time around, and why there is no such thing as too much disorder when it comes to baking a pie.

Returning to the role gives Wood the chance to approach the production with more confidence. "I was so thrilled with the reception to the Comedy Festival season of Mrs Lovett, and I am elated to play her again. This is the first solo work I've written and from the outset I felt totally out of my depth; the show was written partly to prove to myself that I'm capable of writing a solo work, and a lot of the early part of the run was like fully dissociated above my body watching myself jump around for an hour," they tell me. "I'm looking forward to a season where it's not the first time ever doing a solo work, with more confidence to ease some of the nerves and ride the wave."

A Completely Improvised Zombie Apocalypse throws Bren Carruthers into mayhem at Melbourne Fringe

Zombies have never been especially interested in following the rules, and neither has improvisation. Put the two together and you have a theatrical experiment where anything can happen, including who survives the night. A Completely Improvised Zombie Apocalypse takes the familiar conventions of the zombie genre and hands them over to a rotating cast of improvisers, with the audience helping determine where the story goes.

With humans being indispensable to any zombie production, it is only natural that this one has a large cast of victims. We managed to get hold of one of them, Bren Carruthers, while they are still human, and picked their brain on our obsession with zombies and what happens when you throw a group of improvisers into the apocalypse.

Given the challenge of surviving, let alone depicting, a zombie apocalypse, I was curious how Bren rates their own survival skills. "I’m only one member of a cast of nearly a dozen, but I don’t think any of us would be likely to survive!" they laugh. "But I think good zombie narratives aren’t about surviving, they’re about the attempt to survive, and what arises in the meantime. They’re a unique vessel for exploring parts of the human experience, society, and what happens when the normal rules no longer matter."

Mass Hysteria brings church ritual into cabaret at Melbourne Fringe

Jens Radda’s connection to church is more than a starting point for cabaret show Mass Hysteria. Having grown up attending a Seventh-day Adventist church, he knows the practices of worship first-hand, giving the show a personal perspective on what happens when those familiar forms are taken out of their traditional setting and placed inside a cabaret. We spoke with Radda about his religious upbringing, the appeal of ceremony and why a night at the theatre might not be so different from a Sunday service.

Radda’s time in the church brings both irony and affection to the religious rituals at the heart of Mass Hysteria and the way they are reimagined. "There’s definitely irony in it, but there’s also a lot of intrigue and affection," he tells me. "I grew up around this incredible theatre of ritual: hundreds of people singing together, ceremony, pageantry, symbolism…it’s pretty camp! Now I’m basically taking those ingredients and asking 'what happens if we put this in a NutriBullet and blend it with drag, cabaret and performance art?' It feels strangely full-circle."

Queen Machine review | Melbourne Fringe Festival | Trades Hall

Queen Machine opens with Anna Lumb on a podium, performing a lively, high-energy hula hoop routine. She’s carefree, confident, and clearly loving the moment. But that was before she suffered a career-threatening injury - snapping her ankle clean off her leg. A full break. The only thing keeping her foot attached to her leg was skin and muscle. Ouch. Surgery followed, involving titanium implants to repair the damage.

In the aftermath, Lumb begins to reimagine her body as part-machine, “a post-human, fembot future”, as the show’s description promises. Unfortunately, that’s not quite what the audience ends up experiencing. Sure, the idea gets mentioned, but most of the show's time is spent elsewhere: on her painkiller dependency, surreal dreams featuring Patrick Swayze, and a newfound hobby of learning guitar. These detours dilute what could have been a sharp, provocative exploration of transformation and identity.

The Understudy review | Melbourne Fringe Festival | Trainscendence

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.

I Promise This Isn’t About You (Even If It Feels Like It Is) review | Melbourne Fringe Festival | Trades Hall

In your 20s, life is all about the drinking, the partying, and the sexing. In I Promise This Isn’t About You (Even If It Feels Like It Is), we are thrown into the deep end of a house party, but we only see what happens in its bathroom. It’s an intriguing concept, using the most private room in a house as the space where secrets and revelations are laid bare turning a place of privacy into one of exposure. At the same time, it allows for intimate and often hilarious glimpses into the chaos and vulnerability that the party hides behind closed (bathroom) doors.

The cast (Mads Lou, Jo Jabalde, Eliza Carlin, Reuby Chip, and Ally Long) have a strong chemistry and their character's shared histories are evident in how they speak and interact with one another. Their energies are complementary, and they move together with an organic ease  culminating in a fully realised friendship group.

Masterpiece review | Melbourne Fringe Festival | Meat Market

Hanging up a piece of art shouldn't be too difficult. But when it involves two silent clowns, a live musician, and teamwork that is fittingly hanging by a thread, it quickly turns into a masterclass in chaos. Created and performed by Rae Colquhoun-Fairweather and Will Bartolo, Masterpiece is a highly entertaining hour of clowning, as these two art installers stretch a simple job into a nonstop parade of hilarious antics and escalating madness.
 
Colquhoun-Fairweather and Bartolo are an exceptional duo, working seamlessly together. At times, it feels like they are surprising each other with their choices and reactions, despite needing to be tightly scripted to ensure the show runs smoothly. They present their opposing roles brilliantly, without tipping into extreme stereotypes, and maintain the affectingly human, emotional beings that makes them so engaging.

Poems of a Transsexual Nature review | Melbourne Fringe Festival | Trades Hall

Cynda Beare is a trans, neurodiverse, Palawa artist and writer and performer of in Poems of a Transsexual Nature. The show tells the story of a young brotherboy who goes to Country for the first time and is forced to reckon with the past, the present, and the future, with plenty of uncertainty, epiphanies, and sex along the way. 

Beare gives a wonderfully committed portrayal of Apollo, capturing all the conflicting thoughts and emotions that are racing through his mind as he grapples with the power of returning to Country. The narrative is told as part confessional, part enacted scenes, and part burlesque, with each one doing well to support the other and enhance the story in ways the other two styles can't. 

That said, the piece could gain from a bit more direction and cohesion. It has a scattered quality that sometimes works to its advantage, but occasionally leaves you wishing for a steadier hand to guide it. I would’ve loved to see more of its poetic sensibility, those instances where language, imagery and emotion come together to illuminate Apollo’s arc. The references to the black cockatoo were especially powerful and grounded the work beautifully in ancestry and Country.

Conversations with a Fried Egg review | Melbourne Fringe Festival | Meat Market

At some point during Conversations with a Fried Egg, I stopped trying to make sense of what was unfolding before me and simply let it happen. Three rats and an egg debate life, hunger, and purpose in a world that feels both fantastical and oddly familiar. It’s strange, funny in bursts, and tinged with melancholy, but at times, it gets wrapped up in its own absurdism that it leaves you watching from a distance rather than being drawn in.

Absurdist theatre isn’t trying to explain the world, it’s showing what happens when logic falls apart. It puts us right in the middle of the mess and repetition that make up everyday life, the constant hunt for meaning in things that often don’t have any. It’s not really saying life is hopeless, just that it’s kind of ridiculous, and we’re all making it up as we go. The discomfort comes from seeing ourselves in that chaos, laughing one moment and wondering what on earth we’re doing the next.

Gus The Frog Spits Bars (One Man's Response To Existential Dread) review | Melbourne Fringe Festival | The Motley Bauhaus

A frog suddenly finds itself hurled over 100 kilometres from its home in the River Torrens to the Clare Valley, where a mysterious curse is wreaking havoc on its residents and their land, and Gus is determined to get to the bottom of it. Gus the Frog Spits Bars (one man's response to existential dread), created and performed by Angus Leighton, is a wild, fast-paced, and absurdly funny ride, blending rap, inventive storytelling, and pure Fringe exhuberance into an adventure like no other. 

Nobody participates in a Festival because they have to. They do it because they want to. But honestly, if there were an award for the Happiest Fringe Performer, it would without a doubt go to Leighton. Watching him on stage is like catching a glimpse of unadulterated joy in motion. There’s a genuine sparkle in his eyes, a buoyancy in his step, and a warmth in his smile that makes the audience instantly at ease and connect with him.

Requiem for a Cuddle review | Melbourne Fringe Festival | Fitzroy Town Hall

Taking my seat for Requiem for a Cuddle, it was hard not to feel intimidated and curious. I mean it's not every day you walk into a room to be surrounded by an 80-strong choir all wearing black suits, standing still and staring at us. All wearing black balaclavas. It’s this strange, surreal sight that Harrison Ritchie-Jones plays with, blending choral singing, dance and movement, and sound into an experience that sparks a profound sense of community and connection. Amid this eerie, mesmerizing tableau, two human bodies emerge, guiding us into the choreography and linking us intimately and communally.



Paired with Michaela Tancheff, the two perform hypnotic sequences that reveal the intricacies of the body and its remarkable capabilities, their muscles coiling and stretching in seamless rhythm. The support and strength they offer one another to succeed mirrors that which we need in our own lives. At one point, they collapse to the floor in a tight wrap, rolling gracefully down the aisle and through the audience, drawing us into their shared dependence and vulnerability.



A Kingdom of Mushrooms, Five Senses, Infinite Wonder and You review | Melbourne Fringe Festival | Artitude Studios

I love mushrooms. If there’s a meal with mushrooms in it, chances are I’m ordering it - and demolishing it. But I’ve never really thought about mushrooms beyond eating them. Until now. Presented by Off The Spectrum, A Kingdom of Mushrooms, Five Senses, Infinite Wonder and You invites audiences to do exactly what it promises - step into this mysterious, magical world of fungi. This isn’t limited to sight and taste, either. It’s a full-blown sensory trip through the life of mushrooms, engaging all five senses… yes, even sound.

Upon arrival, we’re greeted by our host and co-creator, Jasmin Lefers, who kicks things off by offering us a themed mushroom cocktail. It might be 11am, but this is Melbourne Fringe, so naturally I accept. I opt for the umami martini, infused with shiitake and a touch of ginger. It’s divine, earthy, and with the perfect level of unusual.

Fruition review | Melbourne Fringe Festival | The Motley Spielhaus

Cherese Sonkkila loves fruit. And not just as part of her daily five portions of fruit and veggies - she really, truly loves fruit. In Fruition, she takes us on a 60-minute journey of sketch, storytelling, and performance, sharing fascinating facts about fruit and revealing exactly what fuels her excitement and passion.

Sonkkila’s winning performance is enhanced by multiple costume changes, each adding a layer of depth and helping bring her characters to life. These outfits aren’t elaborate or outlandish, but carefully chosen to leave a lasting impression. Her jellyfish costume is especially memorable, and there is a certain visual that will be impossible to shake whenever I next squeeze an orange.

Greeking Out review | Melbourne Fringe Festival | The Motley Spielhaus

In Greeking Out, Rebecca Perich steps into the role of Professor Ari, guiding the audience through an energetic and playful lesson in Greek Mythology 101. The show revisits classic tales such as the Minotaur, Theseus, and Ariadne, blending storytelling, audience participation, and visual elements to bring these myths to life. With moments that invite us to interact and engage, the performance balances humour and a curiosity-driven unpacking of stories that have captivated people for centuries.
 
From the outset, it’s unclear what role the audience is meant to have. Are we children in a classroom or adults attending a lecture? We’re instructed to keep our phones off, yet also asked to make pantomime-like call-and-response sound effects as Professor Ari recounts the story of the Minotaur, creating a slightly confusing dynamic.
 
Perich has a lot she wants to explore here, and she covers it all, but it results in too many ideas being left underdeveloped, which undermines the potential depth of the performance. This is most evident when introducing the “layered trifle” method. This alone could have been a robust foundation for a more substantial examination of Greek mythology, instead of a simple rehash of the Minotaur, Theseus, and Ariadne - a familiar narrative even to those with only rudimentary awareness of the myths. A deeper, original angle would have strengthened the show significantly.

Motion Sickness review | a2 Company | Melbourne Fringe Festival | Trades Hall

There’s something exhilarating and nauseating about being alive right now - information flying at us from all directions, our brains struggling to keep up. Motion Sickness, the latest work from a2 company, takes these feelings and turns them into theatre: a charged collision of projections, sound, and language that mirrors the sensory barrage of the digital age. Performed with throbbing live music and restless physicality, it propels its audience to the brink of chaos before pulling them back toward something startlingly visceral.
 
On stage are writer and performer Ben Ashby, and composer and performer Toby Leman. And then Ashby begins sharing thoughts that seem random at first - on marine snow, Sudan, Gaza, telephone companies - but there’s method to the mayhem. It's a lot to take in, but that's the point. There is a lot going on in the world.

How To Art review | Melbourne Fringe Festival | Trades Hall

It’s the age-old question: what is art? Who decides what counts as art? And, more importantly, who dares put a price on it? Okay, that’s more than one question, but I’m the curator of this domain, so I make the rules. In How To Art, two bananas wake up duct taped to a wall inside an art gallery. This hilarious clowning show explores the idea of what gets classified as art and who gets to be the gatekeeper of art.

Katie Burson and Georgie Llewellyn are a pair of bananas taped to a wall. They are called "Banana Split" and they are one of a number of artworks by The Artist hanging in this art gallery. Others include a sculpture of two bumbags each attached to a cigarette called "Can I Bumbag a Smoke?" and "Concentrate", a large opened can of Campbell's tomato soup.

With the gallery closed, and the owner not in the room, the two bananas untape themselves and try to make sense of this world around them. Burson and Llewellyn shine with their clowning. Their physicality, movements, and characterisation are constantly surprising. Each moment builds on what came before, keeping the energy fresh and unpredictable. They are confident in their playful interactions with the audience, and the small improvisations and responses to audience reactions never falter.