Loveable larrikin, Banjo Patterson himself, finds a way of narrating generations of women that traverses a fine line between solemnity and sobriety. The room at New Theatre reverberates as the lyrical commentary of Banjo Paterson and Russell Drysdale lead the audience’s experience. In saddling their fanciful prose over seventy minutes, Sydney playwright Deborah Mulhall shapes a journey through time and family ties. The stories follow the love lives of siblings Vera and Ida Templeton in 1894 and their offspring, five daughters.

During the course of the play we are seized by stories which catapult us around the world from Outback NSW, to France, Vietnam and our very own Sydney. Despite such global travels, the lack of contact with Indigenous characters or later-migrants is a concern especially considering the excess in which Australian historiography fixates on white European settlement.

The obstinacy of the characters we encounter attract and repel our own egos. The contrasting identities of William, the disheartened stockman turned soldier and charming Tom, the American GI who meet in WWI, embody the perils of unabashed machoism at the turn of the century. The juxtaposition of these damaged personalities with dance and movement balanced the bravado, and surprisingly brings out a interesting element of vulnerability.

The female characters moved effortlessly, carrying the untold stories of the women in Banjo Patterson’s life. It was however confusing at some moments as the same actors emerged playing different roles. Banjo’s wife and Banjo’s secret lover portray binary desires of longing and loss in their performances. In that vein, dedicated nurse Milly and fearless photographer Maria are exceptional in bringing to life the evolving challenges and aspirations of women in a rapidly changing Australia.

While there was not a jolly jumbuck in sight in The Matilda Waltz, the joyousness of the performances resonated and captured the audience. This ensemble work showed dedication and a durability suitable for a travelling show. One to watch out for in the future. 

Reviewed by Eliza Berlage.

As the audience enters The Annex at 5 Eliza, they find onstage three ladies in black with metallic pink masks and rose crowns. The music booms a heavy electro beat that loops over and over, and on reflection, the whole set-up seems to be a hyperbole for the ridiculous nature of love. Written by Kirsty Budding, the seven short plays and comedic monologues that make up Budding Theatres, I Heart Love, vary wildly in the scenarios they portray.

The music stops and the lights go out. The masked ladies chant excitedly about the wonder of the Greek language with its four different words for love. Suddenly, a man emerges, looking hip and cynical in a brown coat and chequered shirt. He says “Greek muses, how pretentious. I’ll tell you the truth about love. Love is fucked”. Everyone roars with laughter. 

The offended muses, hurry off stage to reveal a desk and a distraught looking woman in a headscarf. What happens next is a twisted tale of love and hypocrisy. The first play, “Hassan is Dead”, which first featured as part of Short + Sweet in 2013, is a polished performance by its lead actor – a woman grieving the loss of her lover as she is interrogated by Pakistani Police as a suspect in his murder.

Love is manifested in many strange ways as the showcase twists, turns and triumphs through plays that surprise and delight: a narcissistic actor whose fake congratulation of a colleague is nowhere near as real as his love for his actor page on Facebook; a vindictive teacher whose only care is shown to be her unhealthy (bordering on creepy) home life as a cat lady. Many of the characters are entirely unlikeable but their compelling portrayals make them so intriguing to watch. 

More loveable characters redeem the heart of the show. An older gentleman in a green bow tie enacts the fetishation and frustration of his three marriages. His convincing performance coupled with excellent costuming and accurate dialogue artfully colours and categorises the different types of marriages. Another highlight is the unexpected story of the bond between student and teacher. The set up is incredulity as to why an English teacher’s brightest but mot belligerent student always winds up in detention. The student divulges her respect for the teacher as a mentor, and in turn the student is shown to be the teacher’s muse. These relatable stories of loss and learning are reminiscent of the temporality of the human existence and the significance of relationships on identity.

The randomness of I Heart Love is cleverly woven together by two recurring characters: a peculiar boy who uses his binoculars to peer at people to find “truth”behind their lies, and the cynical man in the brown coat who dismisses romance as triviality. The impression this leaves is whimsical, suspicious and open to interpretation. Which may be the best way to summarise the show and love itself.

Reviewed by Eliza Berlage

Although a Succubus is usually portrayed as a belligerent demon, Ethel only self-actualises her powers when she seeks to avenge a lost friend, it is always thrilling to watch an interrogation, especially when the tormentor has supernatural powers and flexes voodoo control over her captive. This was cleverly adapted to stage through compelling acting at Nathan Farrow’s direction. Sam Nixen’s Succubus was, surprisingly, a skinny and unpopular Ethel whose powers had a direct correlation with her self-confidence. Interestingly, unlike traditional myths, Ethel was motivated not by evil but by her love of a human friend, which reflects a modern, pluralistic understanding of good and evil. Although the script was at times overwritten, it was passionate, authentic and sustained its intrigue.

In contrast, the Werefox tale is much more light-hearted, as an attached girlfriend discovers her boyfriend is a Werefox and handcuffs him to the bed right before he changes. While this play had humorous elements, the acting combined with a mildly cliché script produced an entertaining performance that avoided digging into deeper themes and was more akin to a skit than a short play.

The Selkie delved into fascinating themes about ownership and slavery, which erred on modern understandings of abuse. This play is about women who find themselves giving their hearts away to love too easily without realising its ramifications until its too late. The acting is commendable and the script explored the notion of misplacing and forgetting our identities when we lose ourselves in relationships.

The story of Naga, a hindu and buddhist deity, investigates the growing sidelining attitudes towards religion as the Naga is portrayed as an agoraphobic cripple dependent on government payments. A social workers interviews Naga to help him regain a sense of belonging, but alas Naga does not fit into the boxes that need to be ticked.

The series concluded with a heavier and darker play about a modern Siren, exploring free will and idealistic ambitions, as the Siren pursues a record deal and manipulates her brother into becoming a better person.

Overall, each play examined notions of belonging and the zeitgeist of mythology in a contemporary world. Without an overarching vision, each play scratched the surface of a variety of themes without a clear intention. The audience’s engagement was sustained primarily through the novelty of modern mythology rather than the essence of each character’s story. Nevertheless, Sam Nixen’s line writing and creativity is impressive, fluid and compelling.

Reviewed by Anne Lau

This eclectic group of rabble-rousers seek to open your mind through music and comedy, and the night takes the form of a diverse variety show. The bill boasts a host of different performers, from drag queens in immaculate wigs, to stand up comedians, all-out activists and local musicians.

MC Shayne Hunter was a definite standout of the night, coupling witty quips and biting political commentary. Musically, Robert Bindley, Zac Martin, and Alex on Sax did a particularly good cover of a Gil Scott-Heron song, and really nailed the gravelly undertones of Scott-Heron’s signature jazz poet beats.. There was also a great taste of local talent from Millie whose song about iPhones taking over the world was uncomfortably relatable.

It is great to see such a collection of different people of varying ages and talents get up on stage and do their thing – and that’s one of the many great things about the Sydney Fringe Festival. Though at times a bit grating, the performers did make some thought-provoking points. If nothing else, you’ll get to see a lot of different wigs, hear more vomit and diarrhoea sound effects than you ever thought you would (a-la Gene Belcher from Bob’s Burgers), and if you’re lucky you might even be accosted by a person in a large sweaty rabbit costume yelling, “I’m Mr Rabbit!” in red budgie smugglers.

It’s difficult to sum up The Comics Are Revolting, and is really something that has to be experienced. If you hold particularly conservative views, don’t expect it to be to your taste, however if you have an open mind (and a few drinks in hand) then you might enjoy some of the funnier moments of this activist-inspired talent show.

Reviewed by Hattie O’Donnell

Several themes are explored in these fascinating films: time, lust, death, travel and the nature of reality. Often the films are eerie and surreal, bringing you in and out of the present. The stock footage and editing effects of slow motion, inversion and the organic after-effects of restoring highly damaged film lend a unique tonal quality to the footage, plunging the viewer into a dreamlike past.

Two stand-out pieces were Aloha Hawaii and Henry Weston Smith. Aloha Hawaii is culled from 16 reels of 8mm technicolour home movies that were filmed in Hawaii during the 1960s. Initially, the film is alluring and tropical, the crooning soundtrack typical of the time period. But as the film progresses, Lawrence utilises slow motion and a darker soundtrack (created with antique synthesizers) to create an atmosphere which can only be described as a geriatric LSD trip.

Henry Weston Smith is similarly jarring, and centres around three people on a road trip through Mount Rushmore National Park, to visit the grave of famed preacher Henry Weston Smith. This morbid journey is made bizarre by the decayed film, the appearance of a Native American man in traditional headdress, and the jumping focus from bleak roadside landscapes and pine forests, to the laughing travellers. It also features a stunning shot of Mount Rushmore, bathed in a pink light as a result of the damaged film.

Lawrence is a master of his craft, and the films are sewn together seamlessly, often juxtaposing the soundtrack and subject content of the footage. Super 8 Dreams is an incredibly insightful installation, and watching these short films is witnessing an expert at work.

Reviewed by Hattie O’Donnell

Rajiv Joseph tells the bittersweet tale of childhood best friends Doug and Kayleen who share their deepest physical and emotional scars over 30 years. The non-chronological two-hander vignettes highlight the most significant highs and lows of youth, friendship and the loss felt at the absence of a dear companion; a moving script with moments of hilarity and sorrow, realized in a short, poignant production.

Aaron Glenane (Doug) and Megan McGlinchey (Kayleen) illuminate the complexities of their roles as children, teenagers and adults. Their synchronicity is convincing as they jump from intense anger to cosy intimacy from scene to scene. With a minefield of subtext expected in interchanges between childhood best friends, Glenane and McGlinchey have mastered every detail, compelling the audience to feel the weight and power of nostalgia felt at the missed opportunities, regrets and unrealised potential we face throughout our lives.

Director Anthony Gooley is to be commended for harvesting the production within the sparse, tight-knit TAP Gallery Downstairs Theatre. He has produced an accurate interpretation of Joseph’s script and Glenane and McGlinchey perfectly complement each other to capture the nuances of their characters at his direction. Gooley has demonstrated a fine sense of innovation and resourcefulness through the clever execution of transitions. This execution was complemented by choice music in partnership with sound designers David Stalley, David Couri and Philip Orr. Lighting designer Toby Knyvett masterfully induces atmospheric moods to boost the deep-rooted undercurrents of passion without overpowering the element of performance. The impeccable detail of each costume over the 30-year time span enriched the authenticity of the whole performance, at the credit of Tyler Hawkins.

The Kings Collective has demonstrated remarkable talent and ingenuity through their exploration of youth. Gruesome Playground Injuries is a timely piece that encapsulates human vulnerability as we journey through life with our scars.

Reviewed by Anne Lau

Bandaluzia Flamenco featured a lot of improvisation, and while the songs were long, the variations on themes sustained audience interest and broke up any sense of repetition that was inherent in the style. The extremes in dynamics built so seamlessly that they were only noticeable in the pauses leading into the next melodic sequences. The use of percussion – clapping and playing off a drum-like box – emphasised the syncopation in the music. The sporadic shouts, that became part of the music, were exciting, and gave the melodies a momentum into the next phrase. The ensemble were engaged in the moment, following each other’s solos with small rhythmic movements, which seemed to mimic the audience’s desire to dance.

The dancing was a hypnotising visual interest, with the constant twirling contributing to a mesmerising effect. The dancers provided an incredible depth of emotion in their movements and while they focused the audience’s attention, the music was not a mere accompaniment to them and each element of the performance complimented the other. There was great variety in the emphasis of each dance, with fun and energised pieces contrasting the more sombre and gentler performances. Dramatic pauses in the music accentuated the hand gestures of the dancers and their drive built up through complicated footwork.

The audience loved Bandaluzis Flamenco: the precise execution of the dance was alluring and the music accentuated this appeal, demonstrating the sensual nature of the flamenco sound.

Reviewed by Lily Mei.

The Bear Pack (Carlo Ritchie and Steen Raskopoulos) are quickly building a reputation as some of Australia’s most talented comedians. At their sold out Sydney Fringe Festival performance, they proved exactly why. The Bear Pack shows are entirely improvised. Start to finish, they have an entire hour on stage to fabricate a coherent story from a word given by the audience, and on top of that, they are expected to make it funny. ‘Difficult’ is probably the understatement of the century.

The night opened with special guests, The Improv Soap Opera, an improvisational troupe who played out a high school soap opera based on a crises selected by the audience. Tonight, it was a “stapler shortage”. The plot had very little to do with the actual crisis in the end – but that didn’t stop it from being an excellent show. Susie Yousseff was a stand out as ‘Lana Del Pray’, a former religious student who had lost her way (and her sexual modesty). Edan B Lacey was also responsible for many of the laughs as a recently gender re-assigned Principal, and was often so quick with quips the audience’s laughter lagged behind, while William Erimya elicited a similar reaction with merely a well-timed look. There were, as you’d expect, a few moments that fell flat or plots that made little sense – but the humour of improv seems to lie in the failures as much as the successes.

Next up, it was The Bear Pack’s absurd, off-beat, quick-fire comedy. It’s a style of improv unique to Ritchie and Raskopoulos, and given how left of centre it gets, it’s a testament to their skill that the entire room was laughing. Starting with a setting (a golf course) and a nightshade vegetable, the journey began. Much of the brilliance of the show is in the almost psychic synergy between the two – they are masters of set-ups that are undetectable until the punch line. They aren’t afraid to stuff up or play games with each other onstage. When Raskopoulos holds a two fingered ‘gun’ in Ritchie’s mouth he replies that it is “extremely unsanitary” and from then on Raskopoulos takes every opportunity to stick his finger-gun in Ritchie’s mouth.

It’s the kind of comedy that has to be experienced live. The audience feels involved in the story, and like Whose Line Is It Anyway?, often “the plot doesn’t matter”. This doesn’t stop The Bear Pack doing an excellent job of tying up almost all the loose ends. But perhaps the best part is question time at the end, when the audience can ask about plot holes that Ritchie and Raskopoulos must then act out to reach a  conclusion. It’s not just funny, it’s impossibly clever. You laugh as much at the jokes at the surprise that they can actually pull this thing off.

The Bear Pack with  guests The Improv Soap Opera, have regular shows at the Giant Dwarf Theatre. They also recently announced the launch of the Improv Theatre Sydney, with classes for beginners and intermediate improvisers starting this October.

Reviewed by Emily Meller

Grehan credits the style on Butoh theatre, an art form created in Japan after World War II. It’s a form that is is usually defined by slow, controlled physicality, white body paint, and abject imagery, that sought to turn away from Western traditions, so it feels jarring to say that a Western man can be a Butoh artist. Nonetheless, Grehan has traversed this delicate line bravely, and whether he succeeds or not would be up to a Butoh expert, not a theatre reviewer.

Grehan is clearly a trained actor, who has serious control over his body and physicality onstage. What lacks in the piece, then, is the narrative. Although we are told in the program that we’ll be lead through six stages, in the actual performance we are blatantly hit with these ideas; portraying “frustration” by angrily plastering paint onto one’s body is hardly a unique way of enacting this feeling in performance art.Though the performance wavers the most during the middle section, we are rewarded with our patience during “presence,” when audience members are invited to join in and paint Grehan’s body. The imagery of this moment is beautiful and raw, but is in fact the simplest, least embellished part of the presentation.

If you’re unfamiliar with what PACT usually showcases, you might find HIM to be confronting and confusing; it’s definitely not theatre as you know it to be. Though you can still enjoy HIM by embracing what the Fringe is all about — discovering new work you wouldn’t normally enjoy, and finding beauty in them when you normally would not.

Reviewed by Bridget Conway

It’s 9pm on a Saturday night and the venue, New Theatre is a mixture of Frenchmen, Francophiles and miscellaneous theatregoers. The show opens with a glittering compere in black. She appears to introduce each skit and retorts the ridiculous French stereotypes spouted by an ill-informed lover of French culture in the “audience”. The first skit is a tribute to young love as two school kids excitedly explore the playfulness of societally accepted traditions. Ending in a giggly exchange of eternal love, this scene excellently encapsulates the curiosity and imagination of a child’s perceived notions of relationships.

The show traverses a wide range of relationship experiences: from heterosexual, to homosexual relationships; from adultery to issues with the in-laws. The sharp dialogue and immersive characterisation keep the audience entertained. As the play is performed almost entirely in French, technical issues, such as a misalignment of English subtitles on the projector leaves the first skit without translation. Even though the alignment is never quite fixed, the actors do an excellent job in presenting the story through their physical nuances to deliver the tone and plot of each skit. However it is difficult to abstain from considering the acting eccentric when the words are spoken in another language. The writing and performance succeeds at transporting the audience into each lover’s tryst time after time, and though actors appear in multiple skits, the quality of performance is so high they are almost unrecognisable in their new roles.

The staging is simple and a wide spotlight is used to isolate the couple and props. A notable highlight is the skit featuring a couple’s differing post-coital expectations: one wants to talk and the other just to be. The two “lie” together in a vertical bed on stage, and under red satin sheets find common peace in an oh so European way: by sharing the soothing puff of a cigarette. Another honourable mention is to the irony and acerbic wit of the skit in which a philandering wife is once slapped by her lover, but is able to both deflect her husband’s suspicion of her wandering ways and return the slap to her lover.

Coming in at just under two hours, the production is quite long overall. Some tweaking and shortening of the existing stories would allow for a more extended engagement with the clever material, however this humorous representation of relationships is both reassuring and pleasantly voyeristic theatre to watch.

Reviewed by Eliza Berlage.