M.Rock is a crowd-pleasing coming-of-age story that proves that it’s never too late to come of age and rediscover yourself. Anchored by two charming performances and supported by a witty and versatile ensemble, it’s a guaranteed good time at the theatre.
Watching Daddy Develops a Pill felt a bit like experiencing all the emotions of a party in one sitting. At times, the show’s chaotic and fast-paced tone feels like you’ve taken a handful of illicit substances and they’re all hitting you at once. Where are you? What’s going on? You’re not entirely sure. But you think you’re having fun. Other times the high-energy frantic action all feels like too much, and you crave an intermission (or even a brief quiet moment in the party’s bathroom to collect your thoughts).
It’s April 1st. which (probably) means its far too late to publish my ‘Top 10 Movies of 2021’. So, I present you with this: The Best and Worst of Everything I watched in March. (Although I might need to caveat my click-baity title: unlike other critics, I don’t tend to watch something If I think…
For many women, “putting on a face” is so ingrained into their morning routine that they continued to do it despite lockdown and mask mandates, as it gave them a sense of normalcy. However, for me, the mask mandate was a welcome release from the obligation of daily makeup use.
ettter to small aussie communities, and the art form of theatre itself. A classic entry into the ‘show-within-a-show’ genre, it is full of audience interaction, and self-aware humour about rehearsals, auditions and the chaos of trying to stage a performance despite the world falling apart.
Sydney is in lockdown again, and with lockdown comes the resurgence of zoom activities. Living alone, I have combatted the lockdown loneliness by doing all of my regular activities as usual, while being virtually accompanied by all my friends.
Picture this: It’s 1AM on a Saturday Night. You’re at the women’s bathroom in some godforsaken Sydney nightclub. The floors are sticky, the music is pumping, and a crowd of girls are crammed into the small bathroom in a queue to use the one toilet that: A. Has Toilet Paper, and B. Actually Flushes. Someone…
If you have been paying any attention at all to Australian theatre lately, it’s likely you’ve heard of Yve Blake. Blake is young, passionate and rudely talented. At only 27 she has already written a hit musical, Fangirls, an ode to teenage girls and their passions. The show premiered at the Queensland Theatre Company and…
Earlier this month White Box Theatre Company and KXT Kings Cross Theatre hosted the world premiere of Dead Skin a new work by emerging playwright and actress Laneikka Denne. My review of the premiere can be found here. I recently sat down with writer and star Laneikka Denne, and director Kim Hardwick, to chat about developing new work, the importance of queer representation, and telling authentic stories about young people.
Denne’s story offers a painful look at two young women desperate to be loved but aching from the pain of choosing people who won’t love them back. At times Denne and Hardwick’s commitment to abstract storytelling confuses the story rather than helping it.
Stop Girl is a provocative reflection of what can happen when we succumb to the pressure to achieve at all costs, regardless of deteriorating health and mental health. In the age of the pandemic, where working from home is forcing the boundaries between our personal and professional lives to be blurred, the central message of Stop Girl—that your mental health is more important than any job—is not one to be neglected.
In Promising Young Woman, Writer/Director Fennell uses the familiar character type of Ryan (sweet, funny, unthreatening boyfriend), to argue that ‘nice guys’ who are complicit in the sexual harassment perpetrated by their friends, are not nice guys at all. A nice guy, like Ryan, would never take advantage of a woman. But if his friends are doing it? He might just look away. What’s the consequence of complicity here? In Promising Young Woman, the consequence for Nina, and by extension, Cassie, is devastating.