Jonathan Biggins. Therry Theatre. The Arts Theatre. 10 Apr 2026
Like Australia Day itself, even the premiere date of Jonathan Biggins’ Australia Day is a matter of mild contention. Some commentaries place its first staging with Sydney Theatre Company at the Drama Theatre on 11 August 2012; others record a co‑production between STC and Melbourne Theatre Company opening at the Arts Centre Melbourne earlier that year, on 21 April.
The discrepancy feels oddly appropriate.
This is, after all, a play about a national day that has not always been observed on 26 January, a date selected less for symbolism than for administrative convenience. The agreement to standardise the date across states and territories was reached in 1935, a bureaucratic solution to inconsistency. Three years later, on that same date, First Nations leaders marked the 150th anniversary of settlement with the first Day of Mourning protest, reframing celebration as grief and resistance.
It is precisely within these fractures between intention and consequence, administration and experience that Biggins’ satirical strength is found. Beneath the official language of agendas and procedures, grievances, loyalties, camaraderie, pride and shame bubble away, unresolved and largely undiscussed.
In the fictional town of Makaratta, six committee members gather in a Scout Hall on a winter night to plan the annual Australia Day celebrations.
Gary Anderson’s set design instantly takes us to this place somewhere in Australia’s vast oonawoopwoop, close enough to a major centre to feel connected, far enough away to believe it knows itself better than anyone else ever could. The Scout Hall, Queen Liz above the door, the movements founder Baden-Powell glaring from a portrait on the wall, and a pinboard replete with notices, is presented in tones of mustard and beige reflective of the committee as microcosm of this place.
Directed by the inimitable Jude Hines, a veritable theatre veteran, Therry Theatre’s choice to stage Australia Day for its Adelaide premier is a brave and bold choice. Hine’s deft direction guides the six characters along their journey well.
There’s Brian Harrigan, the mayor and chair, played by Stephen Bills, impeccably suited and already rehearsing for pre‑selection as a Liberal candidate. Brian speaks in the tone of consensus while maneuvering relentlessly toward his goal. There’s a familiar blend of geniality and ambition. Harrigan is the sort of local politician who insists he’s ‘just being practical’ while quietly sharpening the knives. Bills plays him well but does occasionally fall into a vocal rhythm not in keeping with situation.
Adam Schultz’s Robert Wilson, deputy mayor and lifelong mate, offers loyalty where judgment might otherwise intrude. He’s the sort of man who goes along not because he agrees, but because disagreement would be uncomfortable. Schulz plays him with a weary affability which, particularly during Act 1, needs to adjust to observe pace.
Then there are the old hands. Wally Stewart, a builder and developer, fifteen years on the committee, played by Steve Kidd OAM with brutal conviction. In singlet, shorts and thongs, Wally is blunt, combative, and nostalgic for a version of Australia that conveniently excludes anyone who arrived later than he did. Kidd doesn’t soften Wally, nor does he caricature him. The racism, misogyny and bile emerge not as theatrical shocks but as things Wally has always believed and merely speaks aloud now. He’s a bloke many of us know!
Kristina Kidd’s Maree Bucknell, president of the local CWA, operates in the middle ground of goodwill without authority. Maree brings the reassurance that it will all somehow work out. She wants harmony without confronting the reason harmony no longer comes easily. Kidds’ is a quietly tragic performance. Again, many of us know this woman.
Into this ecosystem arrive the newcomers. Michele Kelsey’s Helen McInnes, a Greens councilor “newly” arrived from Melbourne, asks the questions no one wants asked. Who is this celebration actually for? Who feels welcome? Kelsey plays Helen with restraint which offsets Biggin’s capture of the seemingly righteous tone of many Greens, which makes the resistance she encounters all the more revealing.
Ollie Xu’s Chester Lee, a primary school teacher liaising between the committee and local school, is outwardly cheerful, quick with humour, and acutely aware of how precarious his position is. Xu finds the balance between levity and calculation perfectly. Chester jokes not because he doesn’t understand what’s happening, but because he understands it all too well.
The first act unfolds with each exchange revealing another fracture in the committee’s sense of shared purpose. By the second act, on Australia Day itself, the sausage sizzle becomes a kind of frontline where the conflicts have nowhere to hide.
What Biggins does so well is resist the temptation to provide answers. There are no tidy resolutions here. No enlightened consensus. Simply people, beliefs, histories and silences colliding in broad daylight.
The laughter comes easily, and, with recognition of ourselves and those we know, often comes uncomfortably. Biggins understands that the real danger of Australia Day isn’t that it provokes argument, it’s that we continue to have the same arguments every year, convinced they’re somehow new or closer to resolution.
Therry Theatre’s bold decision to stage Australia Day is not just timely at this time when international interests influence domestic narratives around events that challenge our tenuous identity; it’s telling. This is not a play about changing the date. It’s a play about who gets to decide what the date means, who has been excluded from that decision all along, and who controls the larger narrative. And like Australia Day itself, the play leaves us with no certainty only the uncomfortable knowledge that the administration of unity has never been the same thing as unity itself. Exploring such things is what good theatre is about!
Go! See it!
John Doherty
When: 8 to 18 Apr
Where: Arts Theatre
Bookings: trybooking.com
★★★★★
Adelaide Fringe. David Salter & Matthew Liersch. The Yurt at The Courtyard of Curiosities. 22 Mar 2026
The Yurt at The Courtyard of Curiosities at the Migration Museum was the stage for a curious act indeed. With a straight face on his beard-bedecked visage of kindness and caring, children’s theatre entertainer David Salter convinces us he’s about to conduct an interview with a Dame Granny Smith. The reputation of this show precedes it—it won the Frank Ford Award in 2024 and Adelaide Fringe Best Overall Variety Award in 2025. So it’s no secret – well, maybe this is a spoiler alert, I don’t know—that Dame Granny Smith is actually a bright green Granny Smith. It was as if Dame Edna Everage came back as an apple.
To say that this is simply a ventriloquist act would be as unkind as a Texan reviewer I heard report that Dame Edna was a transvestite act. Salter and his palm or pomme puppet are an incredible pear. They will have you in peals of laughter. Unlike her fruit namesake, which is crisp and tart, this Dame is crusty yet ripe. Salter gets her to recount her showbiz career from the orchard to the stage. Salter’s warmth and empathy gets the best of his guest. With the assistance of some clever stagecraft, the interview evolves in a magical way towards a reveal of what’s really going on ‘cause apples ain’t apples in the end.
Salter is the most easy-going unrushed and accomplished ventriloquist I’ve seen, and I’m no-one’s dummy. Don’t waste your time trying to see his lips move. Concentrate on the story and enjoy. It’s as sweet as apple pie.
I believe he’s returning next year. I wouldn’t miss it.
Bravo!
David Grybowski
When: 20 Feb to 22 Mar
Where: The Yurt at The Courtyard of Curiosities
Bookings: Closed
John Frost Crossroads Live. Her Majesty’s Theatre. 22 Mar 2026
What a hoot!
Farce is perhaps the hardest genre in theatre. Timing, timing, timing. Escalating pace. Doors, doors, doors. Cross purposes. This John Frost Crossroads production has it all—brilliantly directed by Luke Joslin—with a mad, moveable feast of a mighty set designed by James Browne.
It is a set with has serious wow factor, rising to the rafters of the stage and abundantly adorned with luscious Old Master artworks. In sections, it slides seamlessly to and fro to reveal (and enable) the many rooms in which the old whodunnit game of Cluedo takes place.
The location is, of course, Boddy Manor. It is ever so posh, as is its staff: French maid, bustling cook, and professional butler.
’Tis he—the latter—who runs the manor and who carries the show. Oh, my. In the form of butler Wadsworth, Grant Piro delivers one of the most vigorously verbose and epically energetic performances in the memory of this very seasoned critic. One becomes exhausted simply watching him and also spellbound by his impeccable line delivery: rapid-fire, with athletic embellishments, and every word superbly enunciated into the bargain. That stylised diction is one of the show’s funniest elements. Move over Noël Coward. The i’s are dotted, every last consonant lands with aplomb. English precision to the proverbial “t”.
The play is based on the Jonathan Lynn screenplay, but the script by Sandy Rustin—with additional material by Hunter Foster and Eric Price—simply bounces along, packed with references for old and young. No corny vaudevillian gag is excluded; there’s plenty of contemporary wit and one-liners to furnish a big mixed audience with mirth to all tastes. And then there’s the physical shtick: fast, furious, and blissfully ludicrous. The cast works extraordinarily hard to execute it.
What a cast—dazzling, the lot of ’em. Where to begin, apart from the priceless Piro? Genevieve Lemon is pitch-perfect as the supercilious Mrs Peacock. Rachael Beck is pert and decidedly dodgy as Mrs White—outranked for dodginess only by David James as Professor Plum, or perhaps Adam Murphy as Colonel Mustard. Dastardly and sus, the lot of them, not excluding Olivia Deeble as the sublimely seductive Miss Scarlett. And Laurence Boxhall—never was there a more compelling portrayal of a retching wretch than his Reverend Green. Add the other players and the stage becomes very busy indeed, with terrific multiple performances throughout.
Cluedo is as classy as it is downright beaut: cheerful, deadly good fun.
And the frocks are utterly fabulous.
Samela Harris
When: 22 Mar to 4 Apr
Where: Her Majesty’s Theatre
Bookings: cluedoplay.com.au
★★★1/2
Adelaide Fringe. Ukiyo at Gluttony. 22 Mar 2026
Serviced is energetic, cheeky, and gloriously committed to the art of the tease—queer male burlesque with a message… somewhere under the glitter. As shirts, kilts, and inhibitions are progressively discarded, the audience obligingly descends into a kind of joyful hysteria. At times, it feels less like “peel[ing] back the layers of masculinity” (quoting the show’s own publicity) and more like peeling off the clothes. It’s difficult to discern whether the show is just bawdy fun or whether there is in fact some point to it. It promises a “love letter to the masculine form,” and the letter is full of promise as almost everything is revealed.
Each routine toys with well-worn masculine archetypes: the blokey tradie, the kilted Scot (yes, we do find out what’s underneath), over-the-top nothing-can-hurt-me male-bravado, and refusal to show emotion. However, Serviced only toys with these issues and doesn’t really develop them into something meaningful. It’s almost a case of don’t blink because you may miss the subtext.
However, there is subtext, and there are two striking examples. One routine sees a performer shedding fem attire, downing a bottle of something, smashing it, and lying on the broken glass. It’s powerful (and very scary) imagery. It shows the transformation from the real to unreal, and the taking of extreme measures to feel truly authentic. The performer is then rescued by others. It’s touching. Society may be unreasonable, but one’s own tribe can be one’s saving grace.
Another highlight features an aerial straps routine set to I’m Just Ken from the Barbie movie, which gives it a special whimsy. Technically, the routine is ordinary—seasoned Fringe audiences will have seen much more ambitious routines—but that’s not the point. The act evokes the loneliness and frustration some men feel in simply being—like fish out of water.
The production ostensibly looks at the pressures of queer identity in a heteronormative world, but itrarely gets out of first gear before driving in a different direction to give another performer the opportunity to get his gear off. (But hey, give the audience what it wants!)
The real highlight of the show is the MC, whose razor-sharp repartee and smoky vocals provide the show’s spine. The MC commands the room with ease, revs the audience up and keeps the show hurtling down a dizzying but largely familiar path.
The audience just loved Serviced . The performers are all high energy entertainers who leave little to the imagination, and they interact with the audience in the most disarming way. You almost want to be engaged by them!
Kym Clayton
When: 10 to 22 Mar
Where: Ukiyo at Gluttony
Bookings: Closed
Adelaide Fringe. The Gallery at The Courtyard of Curiosities. 18 Mar 2026
At some point, everyone questions the trajectory of their life—what they are doing, where they are going, and whether it is right for them. For some, this reckoning is prompted by significant events; for others, it emerges more quietly as part of an evolving life story.
Eden follows Dan and Kit, two young people on the cusp of adulthood. They live in a small rural town where, almost by definition, opportunities and diversions are limited. A visit to the local pizza shop is a social highlight, and a trip to the nearby river the closest thing to adventure. It all feels familiar—almost mundane—until it is not.
Written with sensitivity by Australian theatre maker Kate Gaul and thoughtfully realised by the Sydney-based Siren Theatre Co, Eden explores the rites of passage that shape young lives while also illuminating the stark contrasts between rural and urban existence. Its concerns are both particular and universal.
Lara Lightfoot and Karinne Kanaan take on the roles of Dan and Kit, while also embodying a host of other characters—parents, friends, and townsfolk. Lightfoot, who assumes several male roles, performs in overalls, while Kanaan appears in a flouncy dress. This gender fluidity never jars; rather, it underscores the performers’ precision and control. Their characterisations are sharply observed, transitions seamless, and their stagecraft compelling throughout. Diction is crisp, energy sustained, and the emotional range impressive. Whether portraying carefree adolescents, weary adults, or more ominous figures, they draw the audience fully into the world of the play. Their rapid shifts between roles are handled with such clarity that one is never in doubt—though keeping pace is exhilarating, and at times almost exhausting.
The production unfolds in an intimate transverse space, with the audience seated on two sides. The staging is spare: two movable benches suffice. This simplicity serves the work well, allowing the narrative to flow unimpeded. Subtle lighting and an evocative original soundscape—suggestive of the Australian bush and the emotional undercurrents of the story—provide effective support without distraction. Gaul’s direction is incisive.
Central to the play is the river, a presence that shapes both the physical and emotional landscape of the town. It is at once a place of beauty and a site of potential danger. In this context, the customary ‘Welcome to Country’ that precedes Festival performances resonates with particular poignancy. Just as Country holds deep spiritual meaning for Aboriginal peoples, the river assumes an almost mythic significance for the characters. Gaul’s lyrical script imbues it with a near-human presence—an omnipresent force embodying risk, isolation, the unknown, and the longing to escape.
This is an absorbing and finely crafted theatrical experience: the narrative is engaging, the themes quietly resonant, and the performances of a high calibre. It is superb storytelling that trusts its text and performers.
Kym Clayton
When: 17 to 22 Mar
Where: Courtyard of Curiosities, The Gallery
Bookings: adelaidefringe.com.au
SECOND REVIEW
Eden
★★★★★
Adelaide Fringe. Siren Theatre Co. Courtyard of Curiosities, The Gallery. 18 Mar 2026
Not your average young kids escape the bush tale.
Eden is a remarkably taught, rich work. Filled with depth in writing and performance exploring darkness and lightened hope, delivered in a mere 45 minutes and staying with you post show.
Two benches. Two actors. Traverse setting, LED spot array lighting, and perfect backgrounding score. Basic as you can get. The outcome that’s based on is extraordinary.
Playwright/Director Kate Gaul offers a text of deep connection with the Tasmanian landscape of the town her teenage girl characters Kit (Karrine Kanaan) and Dan (Lara Lightfoot) live. Gaul evokes a history—pre-town to existing town—that’s easy, natural, positive. Her cast deliver it with a warmth and joy you feel safely engaged with. Nature is the place Kit and Dan live and celebrate their happy/sad youthfulness.
These actors give such rich life to the history Gaul creates, you are immediately drawn in. To them. Magnetic, powerful, free young women with things to say. Attitude to live it, in spite of everything. Perhaps not quite. As their tale unfolds.
In the midst of all this is the river. The river is everything. The river that’s always moving. An essence of power to be wary of.
Yet it’s definitely a small town with small town issues of the not so good kind. Gaul has those down too. Every facet, every character in, and of, a small town played with insightful gusto by Kanaan and Lightfoot.
What makes this work of two young girls dealing with fractured family lives and discovering each other’s love so powerful is Gaul’s ability to weave a tale in which what is unsaid, is said in oblique ways.
The discovery of a woman’s body in the river is never explained. Speculated on. This is a town girls should not walk at night on their own. Is this death misadventure or something more sinister? Is it a message? A judgement?
Kit and Dan live and breathe this danger, even as they run close to it. This town has rules. A hierarchy. A death grip. Kit’s mother will not abandon it. It is all she has. Kit and Dan know their budding relationship endangers them.
Eden is about choosing, despite the weight of oppressive forces denying choice at every turn; the street, the school, the powerful but ignorant, poverty.
David O’Brien
When: 17 to 22 Mar
Where: Courtyard of Curiosities, The Gallery
Bookings: adelaidefringe.com.au