Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman is firmly in the latter category, and in Neil Armfield’s extraordinary production, now making its final stop in Adelaide, Willy Loman’s American Dream feels less like history and more like a warning.

Directed by Armfield with his trademark precision and restraint, this is a staging that trusts Miller’s words and, more importantly, trusts its actors to make those words hurt.

Dale Ferguson’s striking set, evoking the bleachers of Brooklyn’s Ebbets Field, immediately places Willy’s obsession with sporting glory, success and being ‘well liked’ at the centre of the action. It is both stadium and memory, a place where dreams are celebrated, watched and ultimately dismantled. The decision to keep the ensemble visible in the bleachers gives the production an almost Greek-chorus quality, as though Willy’s past, present and imagined future are all watching him unravel.

Niklas Pajanti’s lighting allows reality and memory to bleed seamlessly into one another, while Ferguson and Sophie Woodward’s costumes capture the period without ever feeling ornamental. Sound designers David Greasley and David Tonion, with music composed by Alan John, create an atmosphere that quietly intensifies the emotional temperature without competing with Miller’s text.

Armfield has assembled a cast that understands precisely where the humanity in Miller’s tragedy lies.

Marco Chiappi brings warmth and quiet humanity to Charley, the neighbour who understands Willy far better than Willy understands himself.

Anthony Phelan’s Ben has an almost mythic quality, drifting in and out of Willy’s memories as the embodiment of the success and adventure he believes he should have achieved.

Paula Arundell is superb as The Woman, while Elizabeth Blackmore brings wonderful timing and presence to Miss Forsythe.

There is something particularly satisfying about seeing Adelaide actors James Smith as Bernard, Mark Saturno as Howard and Stanley, and Luca Sardelis as Jenny and Letta holding their own within such an accomplished national ensemble. Their work is assured, detailed and completely at home on the Festival Theatre stage.

Josh Helman’s Biff is a compelling study in frustration, anger and vulnerability. He brings an extraordinary physical and emotional intensity to a son caught between the burden of his father’s expectations and the desperate need to finally tell the truth. His scenes with LaPaglia crackle with the kind of familial familiarity that makes every confrontation feel painfully authentic.

Ben O’Toole’s Happy is the perfect counterpoint. Charming, restless and forever chasing the validation that Biff has rejected, O’Toole reveals the sadness beneath Happy’s bravado. Together, Helman and O’Toole make the Loman brothers feel entirely believable; two very different men shaped by the same impossible expectations.

Alison Whyte is magnificent as Linda. There is enormous strength in her stillness, and an almost unbearable tenderness in the way she continues to protect Willy even as she can see the cracks he refuses to acknowledge. Her portrayal gives Linda a dignity and complexity that ensures she is never merely the devoted wife standing at the kitchen sink. She is the emotional ballast of the Loman family, and watching that ballast slowly give way is heartbreaking.

Anthony LaPaglia’s Willy Loman is the beating, breaking heart of the production. There is something particularly poignant about watching an Adelaide-born actor return to his home city to inhabit one of the great roles of the American theatre. LaPaglia doesn’t simply play Willy’s desperation; he allows us to see the man underneath it; the salesman, father and husband desperately trying to convince himself that the life he built has meaning. His Willy can be swaggering, funny, infuriating, tender and utterly lost, sometimes within the same scene. By the time his carefully constructed mythology begins to collapse, the devastation is almost unbearable.

What makes Armfield’s Death of a Salesman so powerful is that it never reduces Willy to a cautionary tale. Instead, it asks us to confront the human cost of a life spent measuring worth through achievement, appearance and the approval of others.

And perhaps that is why Miller’s play continues to land with such force.

Willy wants to be remembered. He wants his sons to succeed. He wants to believe that being liked is enough. More than anything, he wants to believe that the dream was worth the price.

Watching that dream come apart is devastating.

But seeing this remarkable company bring Miller’s words to life is theatre at its most affecting; intimate, confronting, beautifully performed and impossible to shake off once the lights go down.

Death of a Salesman plays at Adelaide Festival Theatre until 4 October 2026.

5 stars

Lia Loves.

The post Review: Death of a Salesman at the Festival Theatre appeared first on Lia Loves - Adelaide's premier theatre buff, arts contributor, educator and ambassador..

More than two decades after creator and writer Jeanie Linders first turned the subject into a musical comedy phenomenon, this new Australian production is back on tour, and if the Adelaide audience is anything to go by, the sisterhood is still very much ready to laugh about it.

The premise is deliciously simple. Four very different women collide at a department store lingerie sale and, through competitive shopping, hot flushes, hormonal chaos and the universal realisation that something has changed, discover they have rather more in common than they first thought.

There is no great dramatic revelation here, nor does there need to be. This is jukebox musical comedy built around recognition. Familiar favourites including I Will Survive, Hot Stuff, What’s Love Got to Do With It and We Are Family are given wickedly appropriate new lyrics, transforming songs we know into anthems about hot flushes, sleepless nights, brain fog, libido and the peculiar indignity of forgetting why you walked into a room.

Basically, if you have ever stood in front of an open fridge wondering what on earth you were looking for, this show has your number.

Director and choreographer Cameron Mitchell, with associate director and choreographer Lisa Callingham, keeps the action moving at a deliciously brisk pace. The production has an almost vaudevillian rhythm; punchline, song, costume change, physical comedy, allowing four formidable performers to take centre stage.

As the Earth Mother, Lena Cruz brings warmth, grounded physicality and an irresistible sense of authenticity to a character who could easily have tipped into caricature.

Vocally, Cruz is magnificent. She has the sort of voice that can sit comfortably inside comedy without sacrificing musicality, and she finds the humour within the songs rather than simply delivering the punchline.

Her comic timing is equally assured. Relaxed and confident, Cruz trusts the material and her fellow performers, creating a character who is as likeable as she is entertaining.

Chelsea Gibb is delicious as the glamorous Soap Star, arriving with enough theatrical denial and neurosis to power an entire television network.

Her refusal to accept that she has reached the dreaded age of 50 provides some of the show’s richest comic material, but Gibb gives the character enough vulnerability to make her more than a caricature.

Vocally, she is a powerhouse. Her musical theatre pedigree is obvious, particularly in the high-energy numbers, where her voice soars above the comedy. Add in the hair flicks, eye rolls and perfectly timed indignation, and Gibb is impossible to ignore.

If there were an award for Most Likely to Cause a Theatre Full of Women to Nod in Recognition, Sally Bourne would have a very strong case.

Her Housewife is gloriously relatable, a woman who has spent years looking after everyone else and is now discovering that her own body has decided it would like a starring role.

Bourne brings enormous comic intelligence to the part. Her timing is impeccable, her physical comedy is terrific and her rich, characterful voice is perfectly suited to the show’s classic-pop repertoire.

With more than four decades of professional performance behind her, Bourne has the stage presence to simply walk on and own the space. There is also a wonderfully naughty quality to her performance, the kind of I’ve been married long enough to tell you exactly what I think energy that makes the Housewife instantly endearing.

And then there is Catherine Alcorn.

If menopause needed a corporate spokesperson, her Professional Woman would probably already have the PowerPoint presentation prepared.

Alcorn is pure cabaret dynamite.

Her character is successful, controlled and accustomed to being the person with the answers until menopause arrives to demonstrate that there are some things no amount of executive competence can manage.

Alcorn plays that collision beautifully. Her comic timing is razor sharp, but it is her vocal performance that really sets the theatre alight. She brings power, precision and personality to the big numbers, with a delicious cabaret sensibility.

Most importantly, there is wonderful chemistry between all four women. Individually they are terrific; together, they are dynamite.

Musical Director Ana Mitsikas ensures the familiar melodies retain their musical identity while allowing the parody to drive the comedy.

The songs work because the audience doesn’t have to work too hard to get the joke. We know these melodies, we know the lyrics they replace, and suddenly we are hearing them through the very specific lens of menopause.

The result is a shared experience: knowing laughs, spontaneous cheers and plenty of oh, that’s me! moments.

Frances Story’s set design makes clever use of the department store environment, creating a flexible playing space that keeps the action moving. The sets multiple doors, both practical and comedic, act as shopfronts and bathrooms, providing the performers plenty of opportunities for rapid entrances and exits. Jasmine Rizk’s lighting design adds colour, energy and theatrical sparkle, particularly during the musical numbers.

And Christine Mutton’s costume design deserves its own round of applause. Colourful, character-specific and wonderfully theatrical, the costumes help define the four women before they have even opened their mouths.

The danger with a show like Menopause The Musical is that the subject matter could become repetitive: hot flush, joke; brain fog, joke; sex, joke; bathroom, joke.

But this production works because the performers find the women inside the jokes.

At its heart, this is a show about being seen. About friendship, ageing, sexuality and identity and the freedom that comes from finally saying, yes, this is happening, and I’m going to laugh about it.

Linders deserves enormous credit for taking a subject that was once barely discussed in polite company and turning it into a global celebration of women.

This new Australian production understands exactly why the formula has endured. The laughs are big, the voices are bigger, and somewhere between the hot flushes and the hilarious lyrics, you find yourself recognising a little bit of yourself.

So grab your girlfriends, your sisters, your mum, your partner, your brave male companion, frankly, grab anyone who has ever wondered why the thermostat keeps moving, and settle in.

Because Menopause The Musical doesn’t ask women to age gracefully.

It asks us to age loudly.

And preferably with a fan.

5 stars

Lia Loves.

The post Review: Menopause the Musical at Dunstan Playhouse appeared first on Lia Loves - Adelaide's premier theatre buff, arts contributor, educator and ambassador..

And with those two little words, Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine open the door to one of musical theatre’s most extraordinary explorations of desire, consequence, family and the deceptively complicated notion of happily ever after.

Into the Woods has always been so much more than Cinderella finding her prince, Jack climbing a beanstalk or Little Red Riding Hood skipping through the forest. Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine take those stories we think we know and ask the much more interesting question: what happens after happily ever after?

In this ambitious new production from State Opera South Australia, those familiar tales become darker, funnier, sexier and considerably more complicated, and under the artistic leadership of Dane Lam, State Opera is proving that opera companies can absolutely own the musical theatre space too. The decision to pair Into the Woods with Hansel & Gretel across the same week is particularly inspired, creating two very different journeys into the forest.

Under the baton of Anthony Hunt, Sondheim’s famously intricate score is delivered with precision, energy and plenty of heart. From the opening number Into the Woods through to the extraordinary Last Midnight, Hunt allows every musical layer to shine without ever overwhelming the performers.

Constantine Costi’s direction embraces both the absurdity and poignancy of the piece. The comedy is wonderfully sharp, but never at the expense of the characters’ emotional journeys. When the story turns from fairytale frolic to something considerably more confronting, the transition feels natural and surprisingly affecting.

Visually, Jonathon Oxlade’s set and costume design is brilliant.

The forest becomes a character in its own right, the circular landscape of towering trees, revolving pathway, shadows and surprises. The costumes capture the recognisable fairytale archetypes while giving each inhabitant a distinctly theatrical personality. There is imagination everywhere you look.

Bernie Tan-Hayes’ lighting design adds another dimension, shifting the atmosphere from enchanted woodland to something considerably more ominous as the narrative progresses. Associate Director Shannon Burns keeps the action moving with impressive clarity, particularly during the ensemble sequences where there is an enormous amount happening simultaneously.

At the centre of the story is Hugh Sheridan as The Baker, and he is simply brilliant.

Sheridan brings warmth, humour and an appealing vulnerability. His portrayal gradually develops from a man focused almost entirely on breaking a curse into someone forced to understand what being a husband and father truly requires. His performance in No More is especially affecting, while No One Is Alone provides a beautiful emotional payoff.

As his Wife, Johanna Allen is mesmerising.

There is tremendous intelligence behind her performance. In Maybe They’re Magic, she brings wit and determination, while Moments in the Woods allows us to see the contradictions within this woman, her longing, frustration, attraction, regret and uncertainty. Allen makes her impossible to dismiss and even harder to forget. In It Takes Two, Sheridan and Allen beautifully capture the Baker and his Wife discovering that the journey they thought they had to navigate alone is infinitely stronger when they face it together.

Jessica Dean’s Cinderella is beautifully nuanced. Her journey from Cinderella at the Grave and A Very Nice Prince through On the Steps of the Palace reveals someone who discovers that choosing your own future can be considerably harder than waiting for somebody else to choose it for you. Dean gives the character both grace and steel.

Then there is Eliza Brill-Reed as Little Red Riding Hood.

She is still at school. She is only 17!

Let that sink in for a moment.

Brill-Reed brings enormous confidence and comic timing to Hello, Little Girl, before showing another side of her ability in I Know Things Now. Little Red’s innocence changes considerably during the story, and Brill-Reed handles that progression with remarkable assurance for such a young performer.

Catherine Campbell as Jack’s Mother delivers plenty of laughs while giving genuine emotional weight. Her exasperation is entirely relatable, but beneath it sits a fierce maternal instinct that Campbell captures beautifully.

Joey Haenen as Jack is another standout.

A brilliant new Elder Conservatorium Music Theatre graduate, Haenen attacks Giants in the Sky with infectious enthusiasm. His Jack is wonderfully naive without becoming irritating, and there is an irresistible sense of wonder in the way he discovers that the world extends far beyond the boundaries he has always known.

As Rapunzel, Jessica Mills brings a beautiful vocal quality, while Cherie Boogaart’s Stepmother embraces the wickedness and theatricality with delicious commitment.

Michaela Burger and Eleanor Brasted as Florinda and Lucinda are hilarious.

Their timing is impeccable, their expressions are priceless and every entrance earns a smile, with their increasingly outrageous behaviour.

Nicholas Cannon and Andrew Crispe have enormous fun as Cinderella’s Prince and Rapunzel’s Prince. Their rendition of Agony is exactly the sort of gloriously self-important theatrical nonsense that makes Sondheim’s comedy so irresistible. The pair play their characters with complete seriousness, which makes the ridiculousness even funnier.

Cannon also takes on The Wolf, switching effortlessly from lovestruck prince to predatory menace in Hello, Little Girl. It is a terrific example of his versatility.

But there is one performance that deserves its own paragraph.

Rosie Hosking as The Witch.

Hosking commands every moment she occupies, but it is the emotional complexity she finds beneath the character’s imposing exterior that makes this portrayal so memorable. Stay with Me is powerful, Witch’s Lament is beautifully judged, and Last Midnight is an absolute showstopper.

She doesn’t simply play The Witch as a villain. There is loneliness, fury, protectiveness, jealousy and ultimately profound grief beneath the surface. By the time she reaches Last Midnight, everything she has been holding together begins to fracture, and Hosking takes us with her.

What makes Into the Woods endure is its refusal to give us uncomplicated fairytales.

Cinderella gets her prince, but discovers marriage isn’t the answer to every question.

Jack reaches the sky, yet learns that adventure has consequences.

Little Red encounters the Wolf and emerges with knowledge she didn’t possess before.

The Baker and his Wife achieve their deepest desire, only to discover that parenthood brings responsibilities they hadn’t anticipated.

The characters enter the forest searching for one thing and emerge understanding something entirely different.

That is where Sondheim’s genius lies.

The first act gives us wishes, magic and happily-ever-after endings.

Then comes the second act.

And suddenly we discover what those endings actually cost.

State Opera South Australia has assembled an impressive company for this production, supported by an orchestra that handles Sondheim’s demanding score with confidence and finesse.

While there were a few technical hiccups along the way, they were little more than fleeting interruptions in an otherwise exceptional evening, with the calibre of the performances never losing their impact.

There are laughs. There are glorious vocals. There is spectacle.

And then, almost before you realise it, there is something much deeper.

Into the Woods asks what happens when we finally get what we wanted.

The answer?

You still have to live with it.

And perhaps that is the most grown-up fairytale of them all.

5 stars

Lia Loves.

The post Review: Into the Woods at Her Majesty’s Theatre appeared first on Lia Loves - Adelaide's premier theatre buff, arts contributor, educator and ambassador..

That question sits at the heart of Ash Flanders’ Commentary, the latest production from State Theatre Company South Australia, a darkly comic, cleverly constructed work that becomes increasingly uncomfortable as its layers are peeled back.

At its centre is Nick (Gyton Grantley), a once-promising filmmaker turned university lecturer whose controversial debut film Low is being resurrected for a retrospective screening. Made with his former best friend Hamish, the film has long been surrounded by allegations of abuse and exploitation. Now Nick is preparing to record a director’s commentary and appear publicly to discuss the work.

But as the past begins to intrude, so too do the women whose stories have largely been absent from Nick’s version of events; Gen, his former student and lover; Mish, his wife; Saskia, his former muse; and Frankie, whose reappearance threatens to unravel everything.

It is a deliciously loaded premise for Flanders because what better metaphor for controlling a narrative than a director’s commentary?

The structure is deliberately non-linear, contradictory and full of omission and performance. Nick isn’t simply remembering the past. He is editing it. Reframing it. Explaining it. Ultimately, he is attempting to maintain ownership of his version of events.

Director Petra Kalive has described the work as being concerned with who controls the conversation and who has the loudest voice, and whose voices are being silenced. That perspective provides a fascinating key to the production.

Everyone here is performing.

Nick performs innocence, regret, authority and, at times, vulnerability. The women navigate the versions of themselves he has constructed. Memory becomes slippery, truth subjective, and the audience is left constantly questioning whether we are witnessing what actually happened, or simply another version of events someone wants us to accept.

It is clever stuff.

And visually, this production is extraordinary.

Matilda Woodroofe’s set design creates a world that feels simultaneously cinematic and theatrical, while Nic Mollison’s lighting is exceptional. Dan Thorpe’s sound composition, video design and soundscape are perhaps the production’s most potent elements, creating an environment that feels less like a traditional play and more like stepping inside a fragmented memory.

The technical work doesn’t simply sit around the storytelling, it drives it.

Images appear and disappear, shifting our perspective. Sound creates tension before we necessarily understand its source. Lighting isolates, exposes and reframes. Together, these elements continually remind us that what we see is being mediated.

Which is precisely what Commentary is exploring.

The cast, Gyton Grantley as Nick, Anna Steen as Mish/Anna, Kate Cheel as Clea/Saskia, Shardae Santos as Gen/Frankie and Ruby Patrich as Jessica, navigate a deliberately fractured theatrical landscape, moving between reality, memory and performance.

There is solid work across the ensemble, although the performances are not the production’s strongest feature. Grantley gives Nick the charm and discomfort of a man who has become highly practised at explaining himself, while Steen, Cheel, Santos and Patrich each bring definition to the women surrounding his carefully constructed world.

At times, however, there is an emotional distance that makes it difficult to become fully invested in the characters.

Perhaps that is intentional. This is not a conventional character drama designed to make us fall in love with its protagonists or even necessarily empathise with them. We are watching people construct versions of themselves, and the restraint can therefore feel like another layer of the larger interrogation of truth and representation.

Still, there are moments when the emotional stakes could land with greater force.

Flanders’ writing is sharp, with a wickedness to the dialogue and a keen understanding of the contemporary conversations around accountability, cancellation, artistic legacy and public reckoning. He takes these issues and turns them into theatrical ammunition.

Kalive has described Flanders’ writing as cutting through ‘ego, memory, and moral ambiguity’, and that feels like an apt description.

What I particularly enjoyed is that Commentary doesn’t simply ask whether Nick is guilty.

It asks something far more uncomfortable.

Who gets to decide what guilt looks like?

Who controls the archive?

Who gets to tell the story afterwards?

And what happens when those previously relegated to the margins finally get the opportunity to speak?

In an age where reputations can be destroyed, rehabilitated and rewritten at extraordinary speed, Commentary feels very much of its moment. It sits somewhere between theatre, cinema, commentary track and public trial, asking us to consider the stories we consume, and the people given authority over them.

For me, though, it is the craft of this production that makes it memorable.

There is a sophistication to the visual language that elevates the material and gives Kalive’s production a cinematic quality without sacrificing its theatricality.

And ultimately, that feels entirely appropriate.

Because Commentary is a play about the construction of stories.

This production understands that how you tell a story can be just as revealing as the story itself.

4 stars

Lia Loves.

The post Review: Commentary at the Dunstan Playhouse appeared first on Lia Loves - Adelaide's premier theatre buff, arts contributor, educator and ambassador..

 “Intelligent, unsettling and utterly compelling.”

“Two extraordinary performances. One deeply unsettling story.”

“Beautifully restrained, deeply intelligent and impossible to shake.”

There is something unsettling about being drawn into a story by the person living it, especially when you aren’t completely sure how much of what you hear is true.

In The Sound Inside, Bella Baird serves as both the main character and narrator. She takes us through a personal and disturbing tale where storytelling, obsession, and reality become difficult to separate.

Adam Rapp’s Tony Award-nominated psychological drama has premiered in a striking new Australian production directed and designed by Nick Fagan. From the moment Bella begins her story, we enter a world shaped by books, isolation, intellectual curiosity, and a growing fascination with Christopher Dunn, a brilliant and mysterious student who enters her life and changes its course.

Bella (Michelle Nightingale) is a celebrated author and university professor. Her carefully controlled life is disrupted by Christopher, played by Benji Riggs, a gifted young man whose intelligence and unpredictability catch her attention. What starts as an unusual bond between teacher and student gradually evolves into something far more complex, pulling both characters toward a proposition that blurs the lines between author and subject, fiction and reality.

Since Bella controls the narrative, certainty remains just out of reach. We witness events through the mind of a writer, someone who knows the power of language, structure, and perspective. The result is a disorienting experience, prompting the audience to question what is happening, what has happened, and what Bella might leave unsaid.

This is an exceptionally clever piece of writing, intelligent without being elusive, suspenseful without relying on typical thriller techniques. Rapp builds tension through conversation, allowing seemingly ordinary exchanges to hold an increasing sense of danger.

Nightingale shines as Bella. Her performance is controlled and nuanced, revealing a woman whose intellect cannot shield her from loneliness, vulnerability, or the consequences of her choices. There is a quiet intensity in her portrayal that makes Bella utterly compelling; she does not need to push for attention because the audience is naturally drawn to her.

Riggs provides a fascinating contrast as Christopher. There is confidence and academic assurance in his performance, but also an underlying awkwardness that makes him tough to read. He can shift from charming to unsettling quickly, keeping both Bella and the audience slightly off balance.

Together, Nightingale and Riggs create a relationship filled with extraordinary tension. Their exchanges are often understated, but beneath the surface lies a constant struggle for control. A pause, a look, or a slight change in tone can suddenly shift the atmosphere, making the audience acutely aware that something darker is unfolding.

Fagan’s direction is steady and refreshingly simple. He understands that this play needs space to breathe, allowing the writing and performances to carry the weight rather than complicating the production.

The set follows the same approach. A single couch, bench, and desk are transformed into various locations of Bella’s world, with simplicity encouraging us to fill in the gaps. This economical design choice reinforces the play’s focus on imagination and storytelling; three ordinary pieces of furniture can become nearly anything when the mind is allowed to work.

Martin Smith’s lighting design complements this perfectly, subtly shifting mood, location, and time without distracting from the actors. Together, the design elements create an intimate stage world that feels both stripped back and oddly cinematic.

What makes The Sound Inside effective is its refusal to give the audience easy answers. It asks us to listen closely, question the version of events, and consider how much of any story is shaped by the storyteller.

Just when you think you understand the direction of the story, the perspective shifts again.

This is sophisticated, unsettling theatre that rewards careful attention. The production trusts the audience enough not to explain everything, leaving room for ambiguity, interpretation, and many uncomfortable questions on the way home.

Nightingale and Riggs are superb, Fagan’s direction is smart and restrained, and the simple design keeps the focus on the strength of the writing.

The Sound Inside doesn’t need spectacle to make an impact.

It only needs two compelling performers, a few pieces of furniture, and a story you aren’t entirely sure you should believe.

4.5 stars

Lia Loves.

The post Review: The Sound Inside at Holden Street Theatres appeared first on Lia Loves - Adelaide's premier theatre buff, arts contributor, educator and ambassador..

“A breathtaking theatrical journey filled with romance, wonder and pure musical magic. Anastasia is musical theatre at its most spectacular.”

“A dazzling production that sweeps you from Imperial Russia to the streets of Paris and leaves your heart soaring.”

Anastasia does something rare, it immerses you in a world so rich, romantic and captivating that, for nearly two and a half hours, reality fades away.

Opening night at Adelaide’s Festival Theatre was magical. From the haunting beginning to the triumphant finale, this stunning Australian production reminds us why live theatre moves audiences in ways no other art form can.

Directed with elegance by Darko Tresnjak, Anastasia unfolds with cinematic beauty. Each scene flows effortlessly into the next, balancing the grand scale of Imperial Russia and Paris with intimate moments of humour, heartbreak and hope. Associate Director Sarah Hartmann preserves this vision with remarkable care, ensuring every moment feels sincere and every transition is seamless.

One highlight of the evening comes from 11-year-old Audrey Burnett as Little Anastasia. Possessing extraordinary poise and stage presence for her age, Burnett delivers a deeply sincere performance that immediately connects the audience with the young Grand Duchess. Her innocence and authenticity make the tragedy that follows even more devastating, creating a powerful foundation that resonates throughout the show.

Visually, this production is breathtaking.

Alexander Dodge’s extraordinary set design transforms constantly, taking audiences from the luxury of the Romanov Palace to bustling train stations, windswept landscapes and the glamour of 1920s Paris. Combined with Linda Cho’s exquisite costumes, each one more elegant than the last, and Donald Holder’s atmospheric lighting, every scene feels like a moving painting. It is theatre on an epic scale, yet it never loses its intimacy.

Under the musical direction of David Piper, Stephen Flaherty’s lush score is given room to shine. The orchestra supports every performer wonderfully, allowing beloved songs including Journey to the Past, Once Upon a December, My Petersburg, In My Dreams and the deeply moving In a Crowd of Thousands to leave a profound impact.

Leading the cast is the magnificent Georgina Hopson as Anya.

Hopson delivers a performance that places her among Australia’s finest leading ladies of musical theatre. She captures Anya’s vulnerability, strength and quiet determination with genuine authenticity, making every step of her journey believable. Vocally, she is stunning. Her rendition of Journey to the Past is one of those unforgettable theatre experiences that reminds us why the song has become beloved by audiences around the world. It is heartfelt, soaring and truly memorable.

Opposite her, Robert Tripolino is effortlessly charming as Dmitry. He brings warmth to every scene with his wit, sincerity and effortless charisma. His rendition of My Petersburg brought the house down, and his chemistry with Hopson feels natural, allowing their relationship to develop organically throughout the evening. Together, they shine during In a Crowd of Thousands, creating one of the production’s most tender and rewarding scenes.

Rather than a typical villain, Joshua Robson portrays Gleb as a man torn between duty and compassion. His restrained, nuanced performance makes Gleb fascinating to watch, and his powerful rendition of Still becomes one of the evening’s most compelling highlights.

Comedy is in safe hands with Rodney Dobson, whose Vlad is full of charm, impeccable timing and heart. Every entrance brings fresh energy, and his scenes consistently delight the audience.

The incomparable Rhonda Burchmore commands attention whenever she is on stage as Countess Lily. Glamorous, witty and larger than life, she delivers sparkling comic moments while reminding audiences why she remains one of Australia’s most beloved performers. Her effortless charisma lights up the stage, especially during Land of Yesterday, where she is simply irresistible.

Meanwhile, theatre royalty Nancye Hayes brings extraordinary grace and quiet depth to the Dowager Empress. Every scene she shares with Hopson carries genuine tenderness, culminating in a reunion that is profoundly moving. Hayes conveys so much through the smallest gestures and glances, creating one of the show’s most moving anchors.

The ensemble deserves high praise.

Their dancing is sharp and precise, moving with remarkable elegance throughout every production number. The stunning ballet sequence is a standout, adding a dreamlike quality that perfectly captures the nostalgia woven throughout the story. Equally impressive are the company’s rich vocal harmonies, filling the Festival Theatre with a full-bodied sound that elevates every ensemble number. Whether moving across the stage in elaborate choreography or delivering soaring choral moments, this ensemble performs with exceptional discipline, energy and spirit.

The choreography by Peggy Hickey is sophisticated, joyful and inventive, skilfully combining classical elegance with dynamic musical storytelling. It is held together beautifully by Resident Choreographer Nathan Pinnell, whose meticulous attention to detail is evident in every synchronised movement across the company.

Yet for all its spectacular production values, Anastasia succeeds because of its heart.

This is ultimately a story about identity, family, memory and hope. It is about finding where you belong, even when the path is difficult. It reminds us that home is not always a place, it can also be the people who believe in us.

Elegant, romantic, emotionally rich and visually stunning, Anastasia is musical theatre at its finest.

This is a theatrical experience Adelaide audiences will treasure long after the final curtain falls.

5 stars

Lia Loves.

The post Review: Anastasia the musical at Adelaide Festival Theatre appeared first on Lia Loves - Adelaide's premier theatre buff, arts contributor, educator and ambassador..

‘Catherine Alcorn is a firecracker. Funny, fearless and fuelled by boundless charisma’

She turns Ginger’s into a cabaret playground where world-class musicianship, heartfelt storytelling and perfectly orchestrated chaos collide. Supported by the incomparable Michael Griffiths, the effortlessly charming Drew Weston and the exciting Charlie Watt, this is a night that celebrates everything cabaret should be; spontaneous, intimate, moving and outrageously entertaining.

Some performers walk onto a stage.

Catherine Alcorn detonates onto it!

The moment she bursts into Ginger’s, belting When You’re Good to Catherine, the room belongs entirely to her. Alcorn is a powerhouse singer, comedian and storyteller who possesses the rare gift of making a room full of strangers feel like old friends. Gloriously unpredictable, hilariously inappropriate and utterly captivating, there is simply no other way to describe her.

Alcorn’s vocal style sits proudly within the same spirit as Bette Midler’s. It is powerful, soulful and richly coloured, effortlessly moving from delivering a breathtaking ballad to landing a perfectly timed comedic punchline. It is no surprise that she has become so closely associated with Midler, having created a celebrated tribute show to one of the great entertainers of our time.

The audience participation throughout the evening is hilariously ridiculous. As Alcorn prepares for an upcoming show aboard a swingers’ yacht, she turns to the crowd and asks: “What do you think I should sing?” The response is immediate. Song titles are thrown at her, and her incredible band launches into each suggestion as she sashays into the next number at full throttle. Before long, the entire room is playing along. This is cabaret at its best; entertaining, intimate and wonderfully spontaneous.

Joining the evening’s line-up is Michael Griffiths, who is nothing short of cabaret and musical theatre royalty. Beginning his set with an insightful reflection on his musical hero Madonna, and why Express Yourself represents the perfect pop song, Griffiths reminds us why he remains one of Australia’s most brilliant cabaret artists. His chemistry with Alcorn is undeniable, unsurprising given their long friendship and history of collaboration, and together they deliver an outstanding rendition of Peter Allen’s Tenterfield Saddler. Beneath all the humour, they create one of the most moving moments of the night.

Australian musical theatre performer Drew Weston brings an entirely different energy to the stage. His beautiful rendition of Bridge Over Troubled Water is delivered with exceptional restraint and authenticity, filling the room with warmth and sincerity.

Of course, this is a Catherine Alcorn show, so serenity cannot last too long.

Soon enough, Weston reunites with Alcorn for a fabulously unexpected disco-infused version of If You Could Read My Mind. It is perfectly crafted yet always feels as though it could veer gloriously off course at any moment.

Charlie Watt represents the next wave of Australian cabaret artists, and she is a talent audiences should watch closely. Hailing from regional South Australian [hello homie!] and already having created four cabaret shows, Watt performs with the confidence and assurance of an artist who knows exactly who she is. Her inventive interpretations of The Beatles’ Carry That Weight and Come Together are original, creative and beautifully delivered. It is impossible not to feel excited about where her career will go next.

For all its wild energy and outrageous humour, the evening also knows when to pause and breathe. One of the most affecting moments arrives when Alcorn performs Dancing On My Own. Stripped of irony and theatrical embellishment, the song becomes an intimate and deeply emotional reflection on vulnerability. It is this contrast between laughter and honesty that makes Alcorn such a compelling artist.

This show is gloriously chaotic, and that is precisely why it works. Every moment feels spontaneous, even when crafted by performers at the absolute top of their game. It is a beautiful collision of humour, emotion and unpredictability, where nothing feels entirely certain and every surprise becomes part of the magic.

Cabaret is ultimately about connection, and there is no one better at creating it than Catherine Alcorn. She does not simply perform for her audience; she welcomes them into the experience. By the final applause, Ginger’s no longer feels like a cabaret venue, it feels like the best party you have ever been invited to, hosted by the funniest Australian friend you could hope to have, who just happens to possess one of the country’s finest voices.

5 stars

Lia Loves.

The post Review: Catherine Alcorn Live at Ginger’s appeared first on Lia Loves - Adelaide's premier theatre buff, arts contributor, educator and ambassador..

Heathers has always walked a dangerous tightrope between outrageous comedy and uncomfortable truth, and this new Australian and New Zealand staging struts across it in red croquet heels without ever missing a step.

It’s wickedly funny, gleefully irreverent and just the right amount of unhinged. But beneath the acerbic satire, blue slushies and body count lies a surprisingly poignant tale about belonging, identity and the desperate need to be seen. This fresh interpretation understands that balance perfectly, delivering all the dark humour audiences crave while never losing sight of the humanity beating beneath the blazer.

Directed by Andy Fickman, this staging knows exactly what it wants to be. Every scene moves with confidence, never allowing the frenetic pace to overwhelm the emotional moments. The comedy lands with sniper-like precision, but what impresses most is the willingness to let the quieter scenes breathe. The show hurtles along at breakneck speed, yet never feels rushed, a testament to a creative team that trusts both the material and its performers.

When the laughter stops, the audience is left sitting with the consequences, and that’s where this production really earns its stripes.

Gary Lloyd’s choreography deserves a standing ovation of its own. It’s athletic, character-driven and bursting with personality, capturing the awkwardness, arrogance and anxiety of teenage life in every movement. Whether it’s the lusciously mean swagger of Candy Store, the brilliantly chaotic antics of You’re Welcome, or the jubilant release of Seventeen (Reprise), every routine feels purposeful. Nothing exists simply because it’s a dance break, every step tells the story.

Musically, the production couldn’t be in safer hands. Under the musical direction of Martine Rengrow, Laurence O’Keefe and Kevin Murphy’s score absolutely soars. Vocally, the company is first-rate, with lush harmonies, powerhouse ensemble work and a band that drives the show with relentless energy while never overpowering the performers.

The lighting is slick, cinematic and wonderfully atmospheric, effortlessly shifting from fluorescent high school corridors to the darker corners of Veronica’s conscience. The sound design is equally impressive. Heathers is packed with witty lyrics, rapid-fire dialogue and enormous ensemble harmonies, and every word is crystal clear. In a show where every lyric matters, that clarity elevates the storytelling.

Speaking of cafeterias…

The ensemble is sensational.

It’s easy to focus on the principal cast in a show like Heathers, but this company proves that Westerberg High wouldn’t exist without every student roaming its halls. Every ensemble member creates an individual character, reacting, gossiping, judging and celebrating with total commitment. They’re funny, vocally exceptional and constantly alive, making every corridor, classroom and funeral feel authentic. They don’t just fill the stage, they fuel it.

Among the supporting cast are some absolute gems.

Zoe Gertz is a delight as the relentlessly optimistic Ms Fleming, who somehow believes a trust exercise can solve teenage trauma. Her comic, and improvisational instincts are impeccable, and Shine a Light is gloriously over-the-top, delivered with such unwavering sincerity that it becomes even funnier.

One of the biggest laughs of the night belongs to Ellis Dolan and Brodie Masini as Ram and Kurt’s fathers in My Dead Gay Son. The pair embrace every ounce of the song’s absurdity while grounding it with genuine warmth, creating one of the funniest and most unexpectedly touching moments of the evening.

As Martha Dunnstock, Mel O’Brien provides the emotional soul of the show. Martha could easily become a caricature, but O’Brien gives her remarkable sincerity and quiet dignity. Her rendition of Kindergarten Boyfriend is tender, vulnerable and quietly devastating, reminding us that beneath all the satire sits a story about people longing to belong.

As Westerberg’s resident jocks, David Cuny (Ram Sweeney) and Nic van Lits (Kurt Kelly) are superb. Bursting with misplaced confidence, ridiculous bravado and endless scene stealing energy, the pair share effortless chemistry throughout the show. Their performance of You’re Welcome is a standout, balancing outrageous humour with whip smart timing and never missing a beat.

The Heathers are equally compelling.

Amelia Rojas delivers a terrific transformation as Heather Duke, evolving from overlooked follower to ruthless queen bee. Her performance of Never Shut Up Again is packed with attitude and sinister energy, making Duke’s rise to power both satisfying and unsettling.

Abigail Sharp brings warmth and vulnerability to Heather McNamara, ensuring she becomes far more than the stereotypical “nice Heather”. Her rendition of Lifeboat is a poignant reminder that popularity doesn’t protect you from loneliness.

And then there is the undeniable force of Calista Nelmes’ Heather Chandler, a performance that reminds us exactly why this character has become one of musical theatre’s most iconic mean girls.

From the moment she sweeps onto the stage in that unmistakable red blazer, Nelmes completely owns Westerberg High. Fierce, funny and dripping with charisma, she dominates Candy Store, commanding every eye in the theatre with effortless authority. She perfectly captures Chandler’s intoxicating mix of glamour, cruelty and razor-sharp wit, ensuring that even after her character’s departure, Heather Chandler’s influence hangs over the show like perfectly applied red lipstick that refuses to fade.

As JD, Conor Beaumont delivers a deeply compelling performance that never settles for easy answers. His Freeze Your Brain is understated and quietly magnetic, drawing Veronica, and everyone watching, into his world. As the narrative darkens, Our Love Is God reveals increasingly disturbing layers before Beaumont unleashes a thrillingly volatile Meant to Be Yours, charting JD’s psychological spiral with exceptional control. It’s a performance that’s equal parts charming, unsettling and heartbreaking.

And finally…

Standing at the centre of this exceptional company is Emma Caporaso, whose Veronica Sawyer is captivating from her first entrance to her final bow, effortlessly balancing deliciously biting comedy with genuine emotional depth.

Veronica is one of contemporary musical theatre’s most demanding leading ladies. She needs to be funny without becoming flippant, vulnerable without becoming passive, and vocally fearless while carrying the emotional weight of the entire show. Emma somehow makes it all look effortless.

From her opening moments in Beautiful, she creates a Veronica who feels instantly recognisable, not a heroine, not an outcast, but simply a teenage girl trying to survive high school with her sanity intact. It’s a finely observed performance that allows the audience to fall in love with her long before the story takes its darker turns.

Vocally, Caporaso is magnificent.

A powerhouse, navigating the score’s soaring belt, intimate storytelling and relentless stamina with apparent ease.

Fight for Me bursts with youthful excitement, Dead Girl Walking is fearless, electric and vocally sensational, Seventeen is tender and deeply moving, while I Say No becomes one of the evening’s defining moments. It isn’t simply sung, it is lived. Every lyric lands with conviction, every emotional beat feels earned, and every note reminds us we’re watching an artist completely in command of her craft.

What makes Emma’s performance so exceptional isn’t just the voice, although that alone would be worth the ticket price. It’s the honesty. She never chases the joke or forces the emotion. Every laugh, every tear and every triumph feels genuinely earned.

She simply is Veronica.

And by the final curtain, you couldn’t imagine anyone else wearing the blue blazer.

This production doesn’t just understand why Heathers has become a cult favourite, it reminds us why it continues to resonate with every new generation. It’s outrageously funny, darkly twisted and surprisingly moving, brought to life by a world-class creative team and a cast that throws itself into every moment with fearless commitment.

And unlike a questionable cup of Westerberg High cafeteria coffee, you’ll be thinking about it long after you’ve left the building.

Just remember…

It’s all fun and games until someone hands you a blue slushie.

5 stars

Lia Loves.

The post Review: Heathers the Musical at Her Majesty’s Theatre appeared first on Lia Loves - Adelaide's premier theatre buff, arts contributor, educator and ambassador..

Written by the legendary Broadway partnership of George S. Kaufman and Moss Hart, The Man Who Came to Dinner premiered in 1939 and remains one of the great American drawing-room comedies. Inspired by the famously acerbic critic Alexander Woollcott, the play follows the tyrannical Sheridan Whiteside, a celebrated radio personality who slips on an icy doorstep while visiting the affluent Stanley family in Ohio. Confined to their home while he recuperates, Whiteside swiftly takes over the household, manipulates everyone around him and creates complete chaos as an eccentric parade of celebrities, hangers-on and unexpected visitors come and go.

Director Sue Whylie understands the rhythm of this classic beautifully, allowing the comedy to build naturally while giving each of the colourful characters their own moment to shine. It’s a production that embraces the period style without feeling overly formal, and the audience responded enthusiastically to the rapid-fire dialogue and theatrical antics.

One of the production’s greatest strengths is Gary Anderson’s beautifully realised set. The elegant Stanley living room captures the sophistication and wealth of the family while providing the perfect playground for the constant stream of entrances, exits and comic business. Complementing the design perfectly is Ian Barge’s lighting, which subtly supports both the warmth of the home and the heightened theatricality of the unfolding mayhem.

The ensemble works cohesively throughout, successfully creating the bustling world that surrounds Whiteside. While some of the American accents occasionally drifted, it never significantly detracted from the enjoyment of the production, thanks to the cast’s obvious commitment to character and storytelling.

Brenton Whittle brings warmth and quiet exasperation to Mr Ernest Stanley, the long-suffering homeowner whose attempts to reclaim his house become increasingly futile. Opposite him, Rebecca Kemp is delightful as Mrs Ernest Stanley, balancing gracious hospitality with mounting desperation as her home slips further out of her control.

A standout in multiple roles is Robert Cusenza, who demonstrates excellent versatility, particularly as the delightfully eccentric Professor Metz and the flamboyant Banjo, creating two entirely distinct comic personalities.

Penni Hamilton-Smith is wonderfully entertaining as the hilariously earnest and socially awkward Miss Preen. Her impeccable comic timing and complete commitment to the character make every appearance a joy, earning some of the evening’s biggest laughs.

Among the younger characters, Jess Corrie is simply charming as Maggie Cutler, Whiteside’s loyal secretary. Maggie is the emotional heart of the play, a capable, intelligent young woman whose growing desire to step out from under Whiteside’s control provides the story with genuine warmth. Corrie captures both Maggie’s strength and vulnerability beautifully, giving the audience someone to truly invest in.

As the glamorous and manipulative actress Lorraine Sheldon, Helen Geoffreys is deliciously wicked. Sophisticated, calculating and utterly self-serving, Lorraine arrives like a whirlwind, threatening Maggie’s happiness with effortless charm. Geoffreys clearly relishes every deliciously dramatic moment.

A particular highlight is Michael Griffiths, whose memorable cameo as the flamboyant Beverly Carlton is nothing short of scene-stealing. With impeccable comic flair, effortless charisma and a marvel on the piano, he makes every second on stage count, leaving the audience wanting even more.

Then there’s Peter Goers as Sheridan Whiteside. It’s difficult to imagine a performer better suited to this towering role. Whiteside dominates every room he enters, brilliant, egotistical, razor-sharp and gloriously impossible, and Goers inhabits him with enormous presence. His delivery sparkles with wit, his timing is impeccable and he expertly balances Whiteside’s outrageous arrogance with enough charm to keep the audience firmly on his side. It is a commanding performance that anchors the entire production.

Classic comedies rely on precision, pace and an ensemble willing to fully embrace the heightened world they inhabit. Adelaide Repertory Theatre succeeds on all three fronts, delivering an entertaining production that honours Kaufman and Hart’s timeless script while giving today’s audiences plenty to laugh about.

If you’re looking for an evening of old-fashioned theatrical fun, sparkling dialogue and memorable performances, The Man Who Came to Dinner is well worth accepting the invitation.

4 stars

Lia Loves.

The post Review: The Man Who Came to Dinner at The Arts Theatre appeared first on Lia Loves - Adelaide's premier theatre buff, arts contributor, educator and ambassador..

As Rose Grey prepares to say her final goodbye to The Lark, the small inner-city pub that has been her home since childhood, she opens the door to a lifetime of memories. Raised there by her father and now in her seventies, Rose returns one last time before the building is demolished, piecing together a journey shaped by love, loss, resilience and belonging. It is a beautifully observed premise that becomes far richer than nostalgia, offering a poignant reflection on the places that shape us and the people who leave their mark.

Written by Daniel Keene and directed with remarkable sensitivity by Matt Scholten, The Lark is moving, stirring and quietly thought-provoking. It is quintessentially Australian; unassuming on the surface, yet profoundly affecting in the way it uncovers the beauty within ordinary lives.

At its heart is Noni Hazlehurst, delivering a performance of extraordinary honesty and grace. There is a quiet confidence to her work that comes only from an artist who completely trusts the material. She doesn’t perform at the audience; she welcomes them into Rose’s world. Each line feels lived rather than spoken, making her not simply an exceptional actor, but a brilliant storyteller. Captivating from beginning to end, Hazlehurst reminds us that the greatest performances often whisper rather than shout.

Daniel Keene’s writing is beautifully economical, finding poetry in everyday moments without ever becoming sentimental. His words celebrate the resilience of working-class Australia, honouring people who are so often overlooked while reminding us that the most extraordinary experiences are frequently found in the most familiar places. The result is a bittersweet journey through memory, connection, grief and hope, allowing the audience to discover meaning within the silences as much as the dialogue.

Matt Scholten directs with enormous sensitivity, recognising that this work doesn’t require theatrical excess to leave an impression. Instead, pauses, glances and moments of stillness are given space to breathe, creating an intimacy that is genuinely breathtaking. It is understated theatre at its finest.

Emily Barrie’s set, props and costume design perfectly evoke Rose’s world, creating an environment that feels authentic rather than decorative. Darius Kedros’ sound design subtly enriches the emotional landscape through texture and, at times, the power of silence, while Richard Vabre’s lighting shifts seamlessly between the present and recollection, enhancing each transition without ever drawing attention to itself.

What I loved most about The Lark was its confidence to simply share one woman’s experience. No spectacle. No unnecessary theatrics. Just exquisite writing, thoughtful direction and an artist at the height of her craft reminding us why live theatre continues to matter.

This is quintessential Australian theatre: honest, heartfelt and quietly profound. It won’t overwhelm you with grand gestures; instead, it gently finds its way into your heart.

5 stars

Lia Loves.

The post Review: The Lark at Space Theatre appeared first on Lia Loves - Adelaide's premier theatre buff, arts contributor, educator and ambassador..