Entering the studio was memorable: there Lunicke is, doing warm-ups presumably, while wearing a purple dildo. Once you’ve processed the ‘oh, there’s a dildo’ thing, it just becomes kind of funny, watching Lunicke exercising while incorporating the dildo for comic effect. Once the show officially begins, Lunicke describes how ze views sexuality as a musical spectrum, demonstrating with a xylophone. Ze then hands out kazoos and slide whistles and asks the audience to play where they are on the spectrum – the first show I’ve been to in which every audience member outs themselves in the first five minutes.

Lunicke recounts hir past, exploring the many identities ze has collected, beginning with hir parents’ evangelical Christianity, all the way through to being genderqueer. Ze talks with raw honesty about personal experiences with identities and mis-identities ze has thrown off. Lunicke wanders through hir life with the audience, with humor and with sadness intertwined as they so often are in real life stories.

The music, much like the rest of the show, is pretty queer. Queen, Village People, Madonna, and Lady Gaga are just a few of the musical artists that pop up in the show’s soundtrack. The music is used to transition between topics, as well as to accentuate the stories that Lunicke tells about hir life.

Queer as F*ck! is an entertaining hour of thoughtfulness, contradiction, and exposed internal conflict, and is definitely worth seeing, especially for those who have struggled with identity themselves.

¹Ze/hir are gender neutral pronouns used by some genderqueer and non-binary people instead of binary pronouns such as she/her or he/his.

The whole production had a very classic theatre feel to it, which definitely suits Rhinoceros well, given the structure of the play and the time it was written. The makeup and costumes were very reminiscent of the 50s-60s stage look, with over-pronounced expressions and fitted suits (common after wartime, due to undersupply of fabric). The colour scheme was consistent and under saturated, featuring lots of browns and greys, fitting the theme of rhinoceroses.

The rhinoceroses’ heads were fantastically large, grey helmets that looked like enormous origami heads. My only problem with the heads was that they were featured very briefly. With such a fantastic eye-catching prop, they really could have found more opportunities to use them. Sound was also an important part of the production, in an abstract way; the rhinoceroses’ noises were the largest part of the music, with an uncoordinated trumpeting to let the audience know when they were approaching.

The cast worked well together, weaving through Ionesco’s scenes with ease. Flipping the main character, Berenger, from being male to female was definitely an interesting twist that changed nothing by way of story, but did give an extra flavour to the disapproval Berenger receives from co-workers and friends. Jasmine Leech did a wonderful job as Berenger – especially in the last act – where she falls into a long, thoughtful monologue about rhinoceroses, finally reaching the point of the play as the rhinoceroses take over.

Overall, Rhinoceros is a worthwhile show, particularly for those seeking a performance reminiscent of traditional theatre. It’s enjoyable, tells a good story with a good point, and is a well-rounded rendition of a great classic.

The Pianist tries desperately to put on a good show, but it must be his enemy’s lucky day, because everything seems to go wrong. One thing topples and the Pianist attempts to fix it with an even more disastrous idea. He climbs atop the piano and can’t get down. He gets stuck in the stage curtains. He has trouble with the spotlight. He throws paper into the audience. He uses an audience member to climb onto the stage – more than once.

Monckton’s skill as a gymnast is impressive. He keeps the audience engaged and laughing at his mad pianist character all the way through, even when he finally succeeds in actually getting to play the piano. His body seems to move in illogical ways, contorting to reach things he needs as if he were made of elastic.

The music is a large part of the show, especially as the Pianist never speaks. It provides both extra context and another layer of comedic value. The music accompanies the Pianist’s attempts to sit at the piano and play, and is timed well with Monckton’s erratic movement, reaching crescendos as the Pianist executes yet another bad idea.

The Pianist is a fantastically ridiculous show that is entertaining for all ages. There are funny parts, strange parts, and plain old silly parts, and not a single drop of seriousness. It’s a show that takes itself very lightly, and leaves its audience with smiles and a memorable experience.

The Bibliotecha Bar is a great venue for Satori. It’s intimate, decorated with walls lined with books, and simply nice to look at. It was quite atmospheric to be sitting in a comfortable wooden chair in a dim but warmly lit room, shelves of books around me, as Satori performed his own version of poetry. The start of the show was perhaps a little too slow, the initial few minutes appearing drawn out. However, after a sluggish start, Satori began to build upon his storytelling. His energy, once fully formed, engaged the audience wholeheartedly.

The first section of the show somewhat reminded me of Viking poetry. The actual subject matter of nature and whimsy were nothing close to the Vikings’ tales of battle and war, however something about the way it was written and performed was very reminiscent of the Nordic style. This was sprinkled with classic literature references and quotes, giving the whole piece an eclectic feel.

The second section of the show was filled with more traditional slam poetry. While I enjoyed both parts of the show, I definitely favoured the theatrical flair of the first, being more structured and story based. The second half, in which Satori delved into poems from his past – while still entertaining – didn’t have the same element of theatre.

During his performance, Satori melded his voice to fit the poetry as he said it, switching accents and inflections to reflect the meaning of the words. He flowed between different ‘characters’, speaking and acting differently to illustrate differences between stanzas, adding an extra element of narrative to the show.

Overall, Satori is a well-crafted, unique style of poetry, and once brought to life by Charlie Brooks’ alter ego, becomes a show worth seeing. Satori will make you smile, reflect, empathise, and think on your own choices.

Newly graduated from Victorian College of the Arts, The Human Project presents The Human Project v1.1, an existential, immersive, and captivating physical theatre performance. The Human Project v1.1 explores mind, body, and emotion as if through the eyes of an outsider to human existence. It questions the concept of perfection, using the golden ratio – a particular sequence of numbers – to structure scenes. A mathematical theory, the golden ratio is often repeated in nature – in plants, crystals, and even in animal skeletons. Using this idea of a perfect phenomenon, The Human Project v1.1 questions whether any human experience could objectively be labelled as ‘perfect’.

Visually, the performance is engaging however in terms of stage, it is very minimal. With very simple black and white costumes, the four-person cast runs and tumbles across the stage, occasionally pausing to reflect on life. While the stage and costumes are basic, it’s impossible to look away from the ever-changing movement.

Structurally, The Human Project v1.1 seems almost like a train of thought – reflective, jumbled, with odd connections and an abstract sense of order. It flows naturally, like the cognitive processes of the mind. This mirrors the way the show was created – through the collation of  the varying perceptions of perfection and humanity, held by the actors.

Amongst the rushing, tumbling, and falling, are scenes exploring the nature of love and affection. Perhaps my favourite example of this is a set of lines repeated three times, each with different actions and inflections. Depending on the circumstances, they could reflect harmful obsession, a playful couple, or an abusive relationship. I found this contrast striking; that the same words could mean such different things and that without the use of props or backstory, each of the situations could be easily conveyed to the audience through only body language.

Almost confronting in places, while light and humorous in others, The Human Project v1.1 is a fascinating concept brought to life in a seemingly organic and effortless way. It leaves the audience with questions about perfection and existence, sparking interesting conversations after the show. I would recommend The Human Project v1.1 to anyone looking for something beyond what they might normally see, or anyone wanting to see something that will engage them and make them think.