That tension is where SLUGS gets much of its comedy. The pair are constantly aware that almost anything can be interpreted as a statement, especially when it comes to their bodies. A seemingly harmless song acquires a political reading, while an unexpected reference to guns or gender sends the show careening in another direction. Their response is to not address the issue at all, but instead throw something else at us. This gives the production an exciting and unpredictable rhythm. Just when you think you have worked out where a scene is heading, it can veer into puppetry, animation, music or some outrageous physical gag.
From the moment the audience settles in, it is clear this is not going to be your traditional service. The trio embrace the theatricality of worship, moving between song, dance, burlesque and comedy while playing with the rituals and language associated with the church. There is a knowing irreverence to it all, but the production is not simply about making fun of faith. Instead, it takes these traditions and gives them a very queer, very cabaret interpretation.
The show is divided into several chapters, including Communion, Temptation and Baptism. Each comes with a passage from the Book of Hysterium, offering the audience a subtle tease of what is about to come. That unpredictability is part of the appeal of Mass Hysteria. You never quite know what is coming next.
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."
Turn off the lights and brace yourself. PORN, directed by Keelan Armstrong, takes audiences on a provocative, queer-led journey into one of society’s most taboo industries. Through a series of monologues, the play considers how pornography shapes desire, identity, and shame, all while exploring the humour, awkwardness, and unexpected truths that come with navigating a world where both queer lives and adult content are often treated as forbidden.
For Armstrong, this exploration is deeply personal, moulded by his own experiences growing up queer. "I grew up in a weird era for queer kids, where no one would commit a hate crime against you, but at the same time no one acknowledged the existence of queer people. So I turned to pornography to basically show me what a queer relationship could look like. And I think many young queer people do this in the hope to understand themselves and their queer identity more," he explains.
Armed with a hot pink Holden Commodore, circus queen Grace Lightning, the last surviving member of a cross-continental drag convoy, is screeching through the Australian outback fighting to stay alive from the horrors trying to end her. Harrison Sweeney is bringing campy terror, drag glamour, and outback chaos together in Final Queen, a show that defies genre. Inspired by everything from classic slasher films to iconic divas, he and co-creator Rachel Kerry have crafted a story on survival, spectacle, and queer joy. We sat down with Sweeney to talk horror, circus theatrics, and what it takes to turn a solo drag performance into a multi-character, gasp-and-giggle extravaganza.
Final Queen wears its cinematic influences proudly on its blood-splattered sleeve, and Sweeney draw on a wide range of horror techniques to shape the show’s look, tone, and scares. "The main influence is The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, one of the original slashers! Indeed the entire subgenre of slasher films was a huge inspiration to us," he tells me. "Rachel and I also looked at Australian outback films like Wolf Creek to help spark ideas. She is a horror guru! Her extensive knowledge of horror films and tropes has been so incredibly helpful in the creation process. We were interested in exploring the Final Girl trope (as referenced in the title), and bringing that to life on stage in a solo show. “Final Girls” like Laurie Strode from Halloween and Ripley from Alien influenced the character of Grace and the story. And we mustn't forget the Scary Movie franchise for some hilarious horror parodies!"
In Magical Prescriptions, Jessie Ngaio Smith becomes a doctor of a different kind, offering ten-minute, one-on-one appointments where she listens, honours silences, and responds with a personalised artwork. Drawing on her own journey of chronic pain, misdiagnosis and dehumanisation in the medical system, Ngaio Smith uses the project to explore connection, intuition and ritual. We sat down with her to talk about where this unusual work began, what it asks of her and why she believes our systems of care need to be reimagined from the ground up.
Ngaio Smith’s experiences in the medical system, along with her time in the aged care and disability support sector, pushed her to look for the humanity that hides in a classic doctor’s appointment. "I was thinking about the strange, sad absurdity of us trying to source support and healing within the tight confines of a 15-minute bulk billed doctor’s appointment. I was also studying for my Certificate in Aged Care and Disability Support which was depressing and it forced me to recognise how broken and under resourced our systems of care are," she tells me. "I wondered to myself if art might offer something which feels so lacking in a doctor’s appointment; a connection that is wilder and weirder. It has been my experience that we are suffering, and it can be incredibly difficult to find someone who will actually listen and sit with the discomfort of witnessing suffering."
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.
Son of Byblos is an engaging family drama that explores the clash between cultural expectations and personal freedom within a Lebanese-Australian household. Adam (Amir Yacoub) is a 25-year-old gay man whose life is thrown a curveball when his closeted lesbian cousin announces she is marrying a man. This unexpected news forces Adam to confront who he is and what he wants from life. But in a tightly connected family where tradition runs deep, Adam’s journey of self-discovery is far from easy.
Anna Kaleeda Rasheed displays great energy as Claire, and her rapport with Yacoub is very impressive. Together, they convey a believable history, and the way they relate to one another shows an openness and trust they seldom share with to anyone else. Marjan Mesbahi is wonderful as Carol, Adam’s mother, notably in the release and joy she is exposed to from her tango lessons. Amir Rahimzadeh brings depth to John, the father, portraying him with a quiet authority that balances the family dynamics and adds weight to the emotional tension.
Devised by Sarah Iman, Steph Lee, Raven Rogers-Wright, Jackie van Lierop, Anita Mei La Terra, and Louisa Cusumano, Slay is a sharp-witted, politically charged horror comedy. When a young woman is brutally murdered, four lesbians become prime suspects. As they race to uncover the killer, they must also contend with the growing chaos of radical group SLAM (Society of Lesbians Against Men) and its dangerous manifesto, which is spreading like wildfire.
Many of the creatives take on multiple roles on and off stage, creating a strong awareness of cohesion as they work seamlessly toward a shared vision. While some characters, as individuals, lean into stereotypes or are not as compelling as others, the group scene dynamics keep the energy fresh. The natural dialogue allows pop culture references, like lesbian icon Sue Sylvester from Glee, Julia Gillard's misogyny speech, and Marty Sheargold’s recent AFLW comments, to drop in effortlessly. The humour is well-balanced within the show’s absurd world, where SLAM’s ultimate goal is to cap the cis male population at 10%.
Djuna is a sexually charged thriller that explores power, vulnerability, and the unsettling dynamics between two complex strangers. Set within the claustrophobic walls of a hotel room, the play pulls the audience into an intimate yet suspenseful psychological struggle between two people who meet to play out a mutual fantasy. Written by Eva Rees, Djuna keeps you second-guessing everything you hear and see until the very last moment.
Dion Mills delivers a captivating performance as Marcus, the right-leaning, financially successful, cisgender heterosexual male. From the instant he steps onto the stage, his presence demands attention. Every aspect of his portrayal, from his confident stride to his phone conversations before Djuna’s arrival, reveal a man brimming with self-assurance with Mills holding a commanding energy that fully embodies Marcus. As cracks begin to show in his demeanour, they reveal an intricate side to the character, providing further dimension to his otherwise unshakable exterior.