Glory Down The Line review

At times, Tully Jones' Glory Down The Line plays like an M. Night Shyamalan script, where ordinary people get caught in extraordinary situations. Here, two strangers wait in a remote town for a bus to take them on a hike. Where's the tour group? Why are they the only ones there? Who keeps calling them on a seemingly broken payphone? Naturally there's additional surprises to be revealed along the way but that would be falling into spoiler territory.

Julia Gasparini and Henry Stephensen deliver admirable performances as Simone and Brayden. There are instances where the direction could have pushed the actors to go further in eliciting appropriate responses to the story. As the plot unfolded, Simone and Brayden's acceptance of what is happening without showing concern or worry came across as inauthentic. Gasparini and Stephensen share good chemistry and play off each other well, particularly in the opening moments of the narrative.

Every Lovely Terrible Thing review

We all love a bit of family drama and conflict don't we? Well the Coleman household certainly do. In Adam Fawcett's Every Lovely Terrible Thing, we are introduced to six members of the one family across three generations. Over the course of several months, tensions escalate and secrets are revealed that will shatter the fragile domestic unit that they are all living under.

The ensemble confidently find their footing with their characters and deliver some very natural performances. Wil King is fascinating as Cooper, the youngest of the Colemans. Struggling with their own identity while also having to constantly deal with their father's constant beratement, a chance encounter with local tradie Lachie, sets them on a path that they may not be ready to face. Lyall Brooks and Sharon Davis are a formidable pairing that are required to do most of the heavy lifting as bickering twins Charles and Britta where each harbours their own pain, shame and regrets. Its testament to the skills the cast have that they can make us care for these people despite the fact they are not easily likeable figures.

The Crying Room: Exhumed review

A crying room is a small, soundproof room in theatres and churches where a person can visit if they are feeling emotional but want to continue to be part of the experience via one-way glass and live audio feed without disturbing the rest of the audience. In The Crying Room: Exhumed, performer Marcus McKenzie brings this place to the forefront where he tempts us to spend time in our own private chambers, and to call on and welcome the tears. The show is an extension to the 2020 online zoom production of The Crying Room, conceived during lockdown and had McKenzie dealing with the death of his brother.

As we are ushered into the space, our attention falls on McKenzie writhing and contorting himself up a flight of stairs. Along the hall are closed doors leading to rooms that have been renamed the dying room, the wrying room and the purifying room, which has a red light and bubbling sound emanating from inside. Shortly after McKenzie has disappeared from sight, a blindfolded figure with a black robe and holding incense enters from a room and leads us the rest of the way. From here, McKenzie and his team of creatives put on a show with powerful imagery and highly effective design as he examines his own trauma and grief to losing his sibling.

EXHUMED: The ‘Best’ of Bradley Storer review (Melbourne Fringe Festival)

When Bradley Storer suddenly appears in the basement space of The Butterfly Club, it's as if he's always been there. The melancholy and sadness that fills the room from the way he moves his body and looks off into the distance while performing his opening number is palpable. And so it should, as this is Storer performing EXHUMED: The 'best' of Bradley Storer.

Storer has such an unassuming presence that he can simply stand in the middle of the stage and command our attention for the hour. His introductions for each song - and at times, suite of songs - are laced with toned down camp humour but also take us to places of honesty and deep contemplation without feeling like you're at a fork in the road. We are able to sit with and enjoy both of these emotions.

This Is Personal review

To many, the name Mary Coustas is an instant reminder of the Australian icon that is Effie Stephanidis, the character Coustas portrayed on the television comedy Acropolis Now that ran between 1989 and 1992. With her new solo show This Is Personal, Coustas lets free the woman under the big wig and make-up, and opens up about the fears she has on not being alive to be there for her daughter when she will need her most.

In 70 engrossing minutes, Coustas takes us through her Greek upbringing and relationship with her parents, and up to the present day of dealing with her IVF difficulties and eventually becoming a mother. She seamlessly moves between time periods with small revelations and surprises along the way that draws us deeper into the performance. Her commanding presence and controlled storytelling - including well timed callbacks such as her mother's obsession with American soapies, and endearing impersonations of family members - allow Coustas to display her knack for comedy and her dramatic flair.

Bunny review (Melbourne International Comedy Fetival)

New Zealand performer Barnie Duncan returns to the Melbourne International Comedy Festival with a show that is quite unlike what he has done in the past. His trademark absurdity is still evident in Bunny, but Duncan's dissection of whether dancing at a nightclub at 3am was a way of dealing with his grief or avoiding it after his mother passed away last year, adds a level of intimacy and vulnerability that is often difficult to convey on stage.

While a few jokes don't land that well, or have been tacked on for a cheap laugh (Will Smith's Oscars behaviour is already such a tired punchline), Duncan shows strong control of the audience and meeting the expectations we have upon entering this surreal show about clubbing and death. The unique way in which Duncan sees and understands the world is clearly presented, and with an open heart he shares the complexities of dealing with grief and mourning the death of a loved one, particularly during a pandemic.

The Living Room - Melbourne International Comedy Festival preview

The Accountants of Death will see you now. Back for another Melbourne season after a hugely successful 2019 Melbourne Fringe Festival where they took out the award for Best Comedy, Amrita Dhaliwal and Gemma Soldati's The Living Room is an absurd yet unflinching look at life and death. The two play employees of Death who record the toll of those who have died. One has been diligently doing this for a very long time but must now show the ropes to a new starter, who is on their first day on the job while making sure those deaths get recorded.

It was the performers' individual lived experiences with death and grief that ultimately inspired them to make a work on the sensitive subject on death, often proving quite challenging for them to develop. "I lost my boyfriend in 2012 and Amrita lost her mother in 2017 so these events brought us together to reflect on the experience of loss, the rituals around grief and our questions about death," Soldati tells me. "In the early stages of this, on any given night, either or both of us would cry during the show. The emotions were raw and exposing our grief was intense. When we started, it hadn't even been a year since Amrita's mother had passed and midway through working on the show my father was diagnosed with stage four cancer."

Jupiter Orbiting - Next Wave Festival review

As you enter Jupiter Orbiting, creator and performer Joshua Pether is nervously decorating a table with Lego blocks, coloured paper and animal figurines. It feels like we are watching the preparation of a child's party, however with the rest of the stage empty and dark, there is trepidation in the air.

Using a science fiction narrative, this performative piece explores childhood trauma and grief, which Pether juxtaposes with scenes that are equally representative of innocence and naivety. From a distance, the coloured pieces of paper used at the beginning of the show resemble crushed origami cranes, a symbol of hope.  There's even contradiction in its title, alluding to the 12 years it takes for Jupiter to complete its orbital period. This could easily be the age that Pether is portraying, one that is full of liveliness and zest, yet the planet itself is desolate and void of any life.

Shrine review

There can be no greater pain than that of a parent losing a child. Presented by the Kin Collective, Tim Winton's Shrine, focuses on two parents who - a year on from when their son has died - are still struggling to find solace in what has happened and to move on. With a future that seems to provide nothing but sorrow, they both end up relying on the past to get them through the present.

Winton's writing is heartfelt and poetic, but when it is placed into a performance theatre context, it is almost impossible to retain the same emotional depth due to the narrative devices used. Marcel Dorney attempts to create honest and raw characters but his direction and some ineffective blocking leads to a strong disconnect between character relationships as well as the characters and the audience. If we are expected to feel sadness and grief, to share in the pain of the Mansfield's, then Shrine simply doesn't work.

The scenes between Alexandra Fowler and Chris Bunworth as the mourning parents are too theatrical to create any true emotional connection where even Fowler's devastation at Jack's funeral feels contrived. Bunworth's scenes with June (Tenielle Thompson) initially start off distant and awkward, but the two performers eventually find their flow and the relationship is probably the most genuine of all being portrayed.

Tender review

We all love, have loved and have lost. These are the times where we are at our happiest but also then our saddest and most vulnerable. But when you open up to someone and plan a life together, but what happens when your partner disappears and you have no memory of what happened? Presented by Avid Theatre and written by Nicki Bloom, Tender, is a tale of moving on when it seems impossible to do so.

The past/present/future structuring of the narrative is used effectively with scenes shifting adroitly between before the event, the night of the event and after the event. This gradually provides pieces of information to the audience to draw us into the unfolding narrative, and also shows the characters in different lights. This in turn builds on the emotional states explored throughout Tender, which would prove challenging and rewarding role for any actor to take on.