In theory, it is possible for something like Abbott! The Musical to follow a similar trajectory; the time is surely right for a clever satire of our current leader. Unfortunately, Abbott! is not clever enough to rise this far. While comparisons with Keating! are unfair, they do provide an example of what a good political musical can be, casting a big shadow on  Abbott! The Musical.

Abbott! is the work of Adelaide-based comedy trio George Glass, along with extra collaborators. It follows Tony Abbott’s prime ministership, starting at election night and ending with his current position at the bottom of the polls. Abbott is accompanied by stalwarts like Julie Bishop and Scott Morrison, as well as PR man and speechwriter Michael, who shadows the politicians on his research mission. The actors double as musicians, with songs accompanied by keyboard, guitar and even flute.

The show takes aim at the government’s policies on asylum seekers and climate change, while also featuring Abbott’s many gaffes, such as those concerning women. The script is pun-heavy, particularly in a beleaguered opening scene in which cabinet ministers are introduced with a pun each. There are numerous references to current affairs squeezed in, many obviously or carelessly done. Scenes are structured around the content and quotes that needed to be included rather than how they will progress the story, which ends suddenly.

Channel 9’s Kevin Crease Studio is a difficult venue to play in, a vast stage and long auditorium making it difficult for the outer audience to see much of the action. Putting the venue aside, it is curious that in a musical, one of the main characters has a poor singing voice.

There is some light to be found. Nic Conway’s Tony Abbott impersonation is convincing, with awkward pauses in all the right places. The depiction of Joe Hockey as a ravenous, insensitive creature is played well, with Hockey stealing many scenes and songs with his perfect comic timing. The inclusion of a lit-up ‘Quote’ sign whenever one of Abbott’s real quotes is cited is a nifty feature which highlights Abbott’s notorious foot in mouth disease.

Tony Abbott’s political career is rife with readily-mocked events. It is a shame that Abbott! focuses so intently on using quotes, and features just the prime ministerial period. As a result, Abbott! convincingly skewers neither the Liberal Party, its policies or its leader, instead becoming a vehicle to display political puns and senseless things that Tony Abbott has said throughout his career.  It is similarly disappointing that this piece which sounds so promising misses the mark.

It tells the story of Xaviera Grace, a young woman with a hidden past now seeking employment as a governess on an Adelaide estate. The property is in the centre of the city but tucked away from sight, the description bringing to mind the grand houses of the eastern area of Adelaide such as the beautiful Dimora House. Miss Grace comes to the estate for a trial, her performance to be judged by the serious woman Victoria whose exact role in the house is unknown.

Once she arrives, Miss Grace begins to experience some peculiar happenings. On hearing a noise at night, she walks through the house and discovers a man, Alexander, in the parlour. Soon she realises that all is not what it seems. Alexander and Victoria’s stories do not match up – but what is the truth?

As Xaviera Grace, Claire Glenn is wonderfully expressive. The play hinges on her emotive performance, and she certainly delivers. She is well supported by Tamara Lee’s stern Victoria and John Maurice’s lively Alexander.

Written, directed and designed by Van Badham, the level of detail in the script and the set make it evident that Late Night Story is a labour of love. It is richly detailed, particularly in the descriptions of the house that Xaviera finds herself in.

The three characters undergo several transitions throughout the play, and it is within these changes that something is lost. The people that have been presented to us so swiftly become someone else that the otherwise delicate balance of mystery and suspense is interrupted. Miss Grace opens the play as an innocent, wide-eyed girl; her discussion with Victoria about what she is experiencing and a further conversation with Alexander present about-face changes that could be better foreshadowed. These transformations are interesting, but move a little too quickly.

The dining room of Ayers House Museum makes a fittingly grand setting, with the rich surroundings able to act as the estate as well as the stage. A soundtrack of melancholy piano music, composed and played live on stage by Richard Wise, elevates the production once more, with the performance area becoming a real estate with real musicians.

On the way home, the presence of ghosts is more believable than ever. A captivating evening.

Set in Australian suburbia on steroids, I Still Call Australia Homo follows two couples living in a perfect neighbourhood. Jake and Daniel fetch the morning papers and mow the lawns, happily greeting each other from their respective yards and emphatically punctuating every sentence with ‘mate.’ Jake is a carpenter; Daniel is an accountant. Pippa is the president of the local chapter of the neighbourhood watch, while Cara is a hard working doctor.

If it sounds like an over exaggerated caricature of suburban life, it’s because it is. We soon discover that the Australia of the play is one where homosexuality is illegal and punishable by law. Suspected homosexuals are routinely beaten, and members of the public are encouraged to dob in their neighbours. This makes Daniel and Jake’s enthusiastic displays of enjoyment in traditionally masculine things like football understandable, as they try to hide their true sexuality.

All four actors are talented and depict their respective characters well. The growing relationship between Daniel and Jake is lovely to watch and is deftly handled. The script makes good use of humour, featuring many puns and a of lot sexual innuendo, both of which usually hit the mark.

However, it isn’t clear from this production how much of what we see is relevant to life today. While it is undebatable that the LGBTI community continues to experience oppression and discrimination, setting this play in a dystopian present distances the audience from the issues portrayed and does not aid its message. It would be more effective to see a similar story play out in our current society, with its explicit and covert discrimination. Instead, we see a society that is far removed from our own; an interesting choice when there is so much subject matter to be found in the real world.

It is a hot October that sees similar events unfold at Cedar High. The earnestly driven Raylynn (Stori Ayers), determined to change the status quo, decides to run for class president. Her decision is cautiously supported by her friend Asha (Kenzie Ross). Raylynn also befriends the new transfer student and quarterback Colin (Tyler Reilly). Justin (Brandon Carter) is the patient newspaper editor waiting for a story from the opinionated Toria (Allison Scarlet Jaye) that will stick to the facts, just the facts.

When Raylynn sits under what is referred to as the white person’s tree in the schoolyard, everything changes. Nooses are found hanging from the tree the next day. Anger bubbles and bursts. Raylynn’s brother De’Andre (Christian Thompson) is charged along with 5 other students who beat Colin in the school cafeteria.

It reads like a play about race, but it is not as simple as that. Dominique Morisseau’s script deftly combines the themes of racism, homophobia and the difficulties of human relationships. While the play opens well, the pace drops a little in the second half, but is otherwise tightly directed by Steve Broadnax.  The use of dance and verse throughout keeps the story focussed and heightens its emotional impact.

The six-person cast from Penn State Centre Stage is strong, with all members giving emotive and convincing portrayals. They are also adept in the scenes scattered throughout the play which duck between song and spoken verse to move the plot forward, an effective tool which makes Blood that much more impactful. Thompson is enthralling in his short solo dance scenes, choreographed by Aquila Kikora Franklin. The opening scene which sees Thompson dance alone on stage is particularly strong.

Due in part to its setting in a high school, the play does at times veer towards being overly educational, and it is clear it would be an excellent production for high school students. Nonetheless, it is also a strong piece of theatre for all audiences.

Set in current day England, the play introduces us to Gabby (Daniella Issacs) and Mush (Jaz Deol) as they navigate the difficulties brought by their religious and cultural differences. Gabby and Mush first meet at work at an outbound sales call centre, and sparks fly. Their relationship progresses while they both imagine what repercussions telling their respective families about their new partner could have.

It is cleverly written and excellently performed, with Isaacs and Deol playing off each other. Deol’s droll delivery complements Isaac’s highly strung Gabby: they are enchanting together. A set of white bookshelves is a simple backdrop to their performance.

Mush and Me comes to Adelaide after winning the Holden Street Theatres Award at the 2014 Edinburgh Fringe. The reasons for its success are evident from the play’s opening, where Mush and Gabby meet in the call centre. In this well-timed scene, they switch between talking to customers in a professional voice, muting the phone to engage in heated conversation before swapping back to the customer. This is indicative of how the rest of the play, with its skilfully crafted dialogue, will follow: it is intelligent, humorous and thoughtful.

With a clever script by Karla Crome, Mush and Me is a funny and emotive piece. Smartly directed by Rosy Banham, the play does not waste a second of its hour long running time. Even the set changes are carefully performed, with the actors moving set pieces with choreographed precision while snippets of interviews of interfaith couples play. Mush and Me is a moving and worthwhile insight into relationships and modern culture.

Previously performed at the Melbourne Fringe, Deeply Leisured is a one-woman show comprising a series of moments in Queenie’s life as a sex worker. Queenie Bon Bon sits at a small table, turning pages of a book as she recites her memories in a conversational delivery. She touches on work, relationships and politics, without becoming overtly political. What becomes clear is the joy she finds in working with people.

There is a small note on the chairs advising that while this show is a product of Queenie’s lived experience, it cannot reflect the experiences and views of every sex worker. This is only natural, and an idea that is discussed throughout the night: that we are all individuals, and no one individual is better than anyone else.

This show is difficult to review due to its nature – how can you judge someone’s memories?  They are well structured and delivered, and the writing is peppered with humour. The stories’ progression is particularly well done, with the final memory containing a farewell to a client that doubles as a farewell to the audience. While it could sometimes benefit from clearer articulation, Deeply Leisured is an interesting and entertaining show. It should go without saying that those who are fazed by a little discussion of human anatomy are not the target audience.