Stand and Deliver - Thanks Tina (6 February 2025)

The unexpected gem. 

It's always a treat when a show surprises you. I had no expectations going into Stand and Deliver, not really knowing much other than it was framed around a high school debating scenario. What a delight then to find a play with a lot on its mind and an anger about the state of the world simmering under everything. 

Two things in particular stand out. The Acknowledgement of Country delivered onstage by two of the performers is followed by an acknowledgement of the victims of genocide in Palestine, Sudan, Congo, and Yemen. This immediately gets my attention that something a little different to the usual Fringe fare is definitely in the offing.

The second is a monologue delivered by Lauren Westphal-Groves (Rachael) that compares and contrasts the safety of debating etiquette in a classroom with protests outside in the real world. It's impassioned, insightful, and a wonderful example of theme writ large in good writing and execution. This definitely gets my attention. 

The play is political in ways that thrill me as a writer of politically tinged fare. From the debate topic the six characters prepare for - should the voting age be lowered to 16 - to that friction between polite debate and lively protest; the politics of friendship as six students navigate envy, infatuation, self-entitlement, status, anxiety, identity, and the so-called sisterhood; and sexual politics with an unabashed queer perspective. 

The set-up is simple. Star debater Rachael (Westphal-Groves) is late which unsettles the others, especially Bryn (Rebecca Attwood) who seems to idolise her disclosing perhaps more than intended. Overly ambitious Abigail (Tasha Fraser) seizes the moment to take the spotlight, more than miffed she isn't already the star of the team. Abigail turns to friend Madeline (Sophie Quin) who only seems content to tag along at her behest. Olivia (Bec Moore) quietly makes her points in opposition to Abigail while Sonnie (Adah Hill) uses debating to help with anxiety. These interactions shift and move in fascinating ways as assumptions are upturned and revelations uncover stress fractures amongst the group. 

Rachel eventually surfaces after having been at a protest rally. She delivers that wonderful monologue and the fact that perhaps she isn't the star they all thought she was. That honour lies elsewhere. They rally to confront their fiercest rival - Mercedes College! Yes, there is a lot of sly humour here about the perceived education hierarchy and their place in it; several prestigious institutions being namechecked along the way. 

The acting is an interesting mix of the performative versus quiet understatement as larger than life characters confront more circumspect counterparts. It all works in a strange alchemy that clearly delineates each character and their mindset. A highlight is when they all dance raucously to relieve the stress of impending ruin. 

The play ends with another strong monologue as Bec Moore's Olivia leaves but not before she commentates on her hopes for them all and their friendship; how they were electric together. Then we're out as the debate is about to commence...

...and I want more!

It feels like a perfect act break heading into an intermission after 50 minutes of wry, observational comedy; excellent character work; and those political undertones. For mine, there is absolutely the potential to extend this out. 

Other things of note - we hear the rules of debating on a loop as we take our seats. The simple set design including a white board with typical debating terms on it; the school costumes with subtle changes for every character and the differing attitude/posture each performer brings. Oh, and I loved the tag line on the poster - Friendship is debatable. The lighting design is a little haphazard in trying to single out a performer in certain moments but it's a minor distraction as I lock into this pretty quickly. 

I walked out of the theatre enthused and impressed about these young artists and writer/director Arthur Brown using their voices to speak out on topics they are passionate about. Long may it continue!

Stand and Deliver is on at the Hayman Theatre as part of Fringe World until 9 February.

FootyBoy - Wallaby Blue Company (2 February 2025)

Ah, that great Australian pastime, supported by governments, the media, big business and sees millions of people flocking to the theatr-- um, the football every year. Yes, I love my theatre AND my footy. Sure, I was feeling somewhat marginalised as an Eagles fan watching Dockers highlights on the big screen before the show started. But I can forgive such wayward transgressions... in a day or two.

Okay, down to business and this is a fusion of two of my loves so chances are I was pretty much in the bag for this straight away. There's a raucous crowd in attendance with lots of familiar faces from a certain training academy I hear is pretty good. 

The show sets me up with a beautiful misdirection early on, poking fun at the whole "sport is war" trope which I loathe (no, no it isn't). There's affection and cheekiness here before a serious thematic strand emerges pretty early on - this is about fathers and sons dressed up in a sports metaphor which also explores the mental as well as physical side of competitive sport. My Field of Dreams, Hoosiers, and any number of sports movies-loving brain kicks in and I'm feeling it.

The story trajectory is well trodden as most sports tales are. It's the characters who are the differentiating point and some rather spectacular choreography that is frenetic and precise with a footy in hand and not one single drop. Which I have to say, given how furious the movement becomes at times, is worth BOG honours and three Brownlow votes. No, I'm not going to explain that to the people in the audience who alarmingly claimed to "know nothing about football" as we were filing out. 

That's the thing about sport though. You don't need to know because football may not be war but it IS great theatre. They just have much bigger venues then your standard theatre. Oh, and all that sponsorship and media coverage and... sigh... I digress. 

The story in short: star player for the Dolphins James "FootyBoy" Chappell (Michael Kavanagh) suffers a knock that takes him down to his own sunken place where his father, football legend Bill Chappell (Brad Francis) awaits. The son suffers by comparison to live up to the legend who hectors him to be better and claims ownership of his achievements. There are two arcs here - will James become his own man and will Bill see the error in his ways? As Fremantle doyen Chris Connolly might have once said, it's all about the journey. 

Meanwhile team captain Hands (Alice Schlipalius) - in this world the AFL and AFLW have seemingly merged into a super league - motivates the other players, Butter (Summer Rule) and Cox (Jai Craig-Fraser) with positive reinforcement, self-affirmations, and the use of crystals. She herself deals with a back injury which leads to... you can pretty much guess where that's heading but it doesn't matter because everything is done with great flair and humour. 

Schlipalius milks the sincerity in the "straight man role"; Craig-Fraser brings a goofy physicality and charm; with Rule showcasing exceptional comic timing, letting beats breathe in a very funny performance. Kavanagh gets the emotive arc which he handles well while Francis lends a little mongrel to Bill before a startling transformation. I don't know which cornfields his ghost has been hanging out in but it's waaaaaay funkier than Shoeless Joe's!

My only quibble is that there seemed to be a beat missing. Bill's arc is clear but the catalyst for the change is not there for mine. It felt more out of story convenience than character. Having said that, the subsequent scene is affecting but it's one thing I'd look at in the writing. What brings him back to his son? Otherwise the ending is every footy players' fantasy - to [redacted] which leaves everyone with a feel good sensation at final bows. 

I enjoyed this a lot. It's funny, fast and furious; shows clear affection for the sport and the types of characters who inhabit that world. There's a serious message under the humour about how our mental health can be adversely affected by expectations and negative reinforcement; how we can better manage that; and the power of forgiveness.

FootyBoy is directed by Art Walsh, David Blue, and Natasha Pearson with a relentless pace and energy. Walsh and Blue are also co-writers. The show is on at the State Theatre Centre as part of Fringe World until 8 February. 

What To Expect When You're No Longer Expecting - Roe Rowe Productions (1 February 2025)

I don't know how to review this show. At least not as a theatre critic. I don't want to talk about lighting or set design. Or critique performance and execution. 

I want to talk about how it made me feel. 

I want to talk about how it made a roomful of people FEEL.

If one of the prime motivations of theatre is to be authentic and truthful in the moment then this is a stunning example of exactly that. 

Everything else is secondary. 

I laughed. 

I cried. 

I could feel the honesty and compassion radiating from the stage. 

Roe Rowe and her husband Chris told the story of their pregnancy and loss with a generosity unlike anything I had experienced before.  

Anticipation, excitement, dread, devastation, and grief followed by bewilderment at the lack of support after such unbearable heartbreak. Everyone was nice, everyone was professional, but how does that acknowledge let alone begin to heal the loss Roe had experienced?

This is the conversation Roe and Chris wanted to start to address that gap. 

A vital conversation. 

A conversation that could prove to be a healing factor for so many people. A conversation that banishes any thought of shame. Or that couples are alone in facing this. A conversation that helps family and friends support their loved ones. 

There is great humour here. 

And raw emotion. 

And glimpses of anger.

But never any shame. 

It is Roe being utterly fearless and vulnerable and truthful. 

It is Chris by her side, on this journey together, every step of the way.

Roe sings. Chris plays guitar and piano. 

Original songs add to the emotional truth - not only in the lyrics but how they are delivered. 

The wistfulness of "Who Will You Be" as Roe wonders what sort of person her baby will grow up to be. The frustration and hurt of "How Are You? Not Okay." The anguish of "Goodbye" which is heartfelt in such a profound way.

There are tears and sniffles all around me. 

I'm one of the people holding back tears and failing. 

Tears for Roe and Chris. 

Tears for a friend and her husband. 

Tears because I am part of something that feels extraordinary and meaningful.

The conversation crucially includes Roe forcefully detailing what you should expect when you're no longer expecting - no more platitudes but tangible support mechanisms that help heal body and mind. 

The production honours this by creating a supportive environment with a breakout area at the back; a memorial wall for the names of lost babies; and messaging that details where *assistance can be sourced. Even the encouragement to step out if you feel overwhelmed.

The show may end but the conversation doesn't stop. So many women talk to Roe afterwards about their lived experience. Chris and director Vanessa Jensen are also on hand to discuss the production and issues it has raised. 

I thank them. For their generosity. For their honesty. And for an act of kindness I'm grateful for. 

Each person will react differently based on their lived experience and circumstances. Whether that be a form of catharsis; the ability to share their story; to begin to heal; or to walk out feeling lighter knowing they're not alone. For family and friends it gives enormous insight into what loved ones might be dealing with.

It's a wonderful show. 

An important one.

There may only be two performances in this run - grab a ticket for Sunday 2 February at 3pm - but somehow I suspect the show will have a long life far after Fringe World has finished. This is theatre in its most compelling form - raw, honest, vital, and necessary. 

*For support after suffering pregnancy loss the production suggests the services offered by Pink Elephants and Red Nose Grief and Loss.

The Simple Gift - Presented by Andre Victor (28 January 2025)

Kindness.

For some people it is an intrinsic part of their nature. For others it proves elusive. Then there are those who have forgotten what kindness is; through trauma and personal circumstances. 

The contrast is immediately established when young teen, Billy, runs away from home to escape an abusive father who is bereft of kindness in any form. Billy rides a train westwards where Eddie, a train driver, discovers him. Instead of ejecting him from the train, Eddie provides food and sound advice; things he didn't have to do as Billy astutely points out. It's a gracious act that makes an impression. 

Billy ends up in the town of Bendarat, once a wealthy railway hub but one that's now fallen into disrepair. Much like Old Bill who lives in a discarded train carriage and drinks away his days. The impact each will have on the other is profound - the youngster through enthusiasm and compassion; the older man by awakening from a slumber inflicted by unspeakable tragedy and remembering who he essentially is. 

There is a third character in this wonderfully crafted tale - 17 year old Caitlin who goes to the grammar school and mops floors at the local McDonalds where Billy craftily finds his meals in the leftovers of other people. She comes from a wealthy family where material possessions and status are no problem. Yet she seeks something far more nourishing for the soul. Her growing relationship with Billy and its intersection with Old Bill is another touching story strand.

Written in free verse and adapted by Andre Victor from the book of the same name by Steven Herrick, The Simple Gift has a level of detail and specificity in its description of place and character that is compelling. Staged in an unadorned space, you can see the town, its inhabitants, and the landmarks clearly in the way they are invoked in the dialogue. The starlings in the eves of Old Bill's former home, the ibis on the water, the tomatoes at the cannery, the fruit in the nearby orchard... and crucially, you feel the emotions with such clarity. There are moments that left me teary-eyed. However, from great sorrow comes an overwhelming sense of goodness which radiates throughout the entire fifty minutes.

Harry McGuire as Billy brings a youthful energy tinged with a worldliness in a character that acts as a catalyst for Old Bill and Caitlin to move out of their respective ruts. There's a soulfulness to McGuire's performance that creeps up on you until Billy finds himself in need of the sort of care and attention he has so unconditionally given others. The switch to vulnerability and anguish is beautifully crafted. It's a wonderful performance.

One that has no choice but to alter Old Bill played with gruff demeanour by Benjamin Small who carefully charts a trajectory from the depths of despair to a welcome rejuvenation. Small's monologue that reveals the source of the character's trauma is devastating in its honesty and raw emotion. 

While Small's default position is gruffness, Caitlyn Boyle brings an inherent sweetness to Caitlin that is equally fascinating. You sense Boyle's Caitlin is an outsider in a town where she has every advantage. There's such a light touch here that makes the tender romance with Billy a joy.  

Evocative lighting design by Kat Brieden and Andre Victor clearly delineates painful flashbacks from the present day action; and heightened emotions from delicate moments of human connection. The direction by Andre Victor is quiet and focussed on meaningful character beats. McGuire and Boyle almost have an Elizabethan style dance as their courtship flourishes; the continuous touch of hands another lovely detail. The only thing I wasn't quite sure about was a costume change towards the end that was maybe too symbolic of the transformation these characters had undertaken. It's a minor detail when you have writing and performances this good.

There is an honesty here that I loved. Above all, yes, kindness flows from these characters in surprising and powerful ways. You can feel it. That truly is a gift.

The Simple Gift is on at the Hayman Theatre until 2 February as part of the Fringe World Festival.

Photos by Jordan D'Arcy (Perfectly Picturesque Photography)