★★★★★
Adelaide Fringe. Ruby's at Holden Street Theatres. 1 Mar 2026
Five-star ratings are too easily doled out at Fringe festivals; so liberally, at times, that their currency feels devalued. Yet every so often a production emerges that truly deserves it, and The Pink List is such a work.
This one-man musical drama examines the organised, state-sponsored persecution of homosexual men in Nazi Germany and, sadly, the unnerving persistence of that persecution in the post-war years. Playwright and performer Michael Trauffer centres the narrative on Karl, a fictionalised composite drawn from the lived experience of real men who endured the horrors of the Third Reich and its aftermath.
The title refers to the infamous registers compiled by the Nazis to identify and target gay men—lists that, shockingly, continued to be used by authorities post-war.
The play opens with Karl on trial, not for any alleged act, but for his identity itself: simply for being gay. It was sufficient for imprisonment; during the war it meant deportation to a concentration camp and the enforced wearing of the pink triangle.
As the trial takes its predictable course, the drama unfolds in a series of recollections. Karl remembers the excitement of first love (and the confusion and despair at its loss), the fun of Christmas festivities, the heady freedoms of Weimar cabaret, and the relentless tightening of the Nazi grip.
The Pink List is also a musical, and its eleven songs are not merely embellishments but the spine of the storytelling. Trauffer has created it all: he has written music, lyrics and text of remarkable cohesion and theatrical instinct. The songs drive the narrative with elegance and emotional precision, and their stylish musical language traverses excitement to abject fear.
As a performer, Trauffer is nothing short of superb. His singing is secure, nuanced and beautifully phrased; his acting is extraordinary. His diction is crystalline, every word landing with intent. His physicality is masterful, and his expressive face delivers finely calibrated gestures that punctuate every emotion and tear at our hearts.
On the very small stage at Ruby’s, he expands the space through sheer presence, inhabiting it with confidence and intelligence. He quickly makes minor changes to his costume, and accesses a few props, just enough to push home a point. Trauffer is in complete control of his craft, but it is not clinical: he gives himself over to the full emotional truth of the text, and it takes your breath away.
This is not comfortable theatre. The material is harrowing. Yet Trauffer imbues Karl with an irrepressible spirit. Amid the brutality, there are flashes of wit, resilience and even joy. It is a testament to the depth of his characterisation that this reviewer found himself unexpectedly smiling at times—moved not by sentimentality, but by the indomitable humanity Trauffer conjures. Yes, Karl is defeated, but at the same time he is victorious.
The production’s technical elements are equally distinguished. Voice-overs delineate unseen characters, particularly in the courtroom scenes, while the musical underscoring is expertly created and engineered. Every cue is exact, every transition seamless. In a festival where technical standards can vary wildly, this production stands as a model of precision and professionalism.
The Pink List is essential viewing. It is a work of courage and artistry, delivered by a performer at the height of his powers. Quite simply, it is one of the true highlights of this year’s Fringe.
Kym Clayton
When: 20 Feb to 8 Mar
Where: Holden Street Theatres
Bookings: adelaidefringe.com.au
Adelaide Festival. Her Majesty’s Theatre. 1 Mar 2026
Do not bring conventional expectations for the Parisian showgirl powerhouse Josephine Baker to the theatre with you if attending the Festival’s Perle Noir. Indeed, it is not Josephine Baker. It is "meditations for” her.
We will never truly know how put-upon she felt, nor how ugly she found her own racial appearance. Her Folies Bergere audiences found her beautiful, and she was a black superstar of her day, Tina Turneresque. Here, the “meditation” is internalised, and it is dark.
Baker’s immense success in Paris was in wild contrast to the penury and racism of her background in the American south. She fell into marriage aged twelve and again aged fifteen whence she gained the name Baker and a taste for vaudeville which eventually took her to Paris in “negro revue”. Therein, with a comic streak, quirky dance improvisation and fearlessly appearing bare-breasted in a banana tutu, she became a jewel of exoticism in a white world. She went on to use her showbiz fame to mask underground work for the French Resistance, and she was lauded for her work on and off the French stage.
In the US she also was to be feted as an icon, but for civil-rights justice and harmony, a passion she embodied by adopting a “rainbow” family of children from around the world.
She was a super special individual and a gorgeous torch singer into the bargain. Many are the books celebrating and analysing her extraordinary life.
In this production, an opera directed by the one-time Adelaide Festival director Peter Sellars with music from celebrated composer Tyshawn Sorey and poetry by Caribbean Claudia Rankine, Baker is portrayed in slow musical thought-scapes of her anguish, deconstructing the songs of her times to impose inner meanings. Blackbird opens the performance as a desperate and attenuated lament in which, eventually, a sliver of the original Bye Bye Blackbird tune is identifiable.
This is not an opera from which one comes out humming catchy tunes. One comes out with a sense of sorrow and guilt. As Baker wishes to be white and to enjoy the entitlements of Princess Grace, so we white audience members quietly wither in our comfortable seats within the privileges of our rich white festival. And, rightly, one contemplates all the injustices of a still-troubled and cruel world.
Meanwhile, one has relished the multiple layers of the opera’s star, American mezzo soprano Julia Bullock: the immense range of her glorious voice; her own pleasing resemblance to Josephine Baker; her audacious exaggerations of the Baker dance movements.
And then there is the staging, a daunting staircase up to a screen where she shadow plays against herself in what is quite an overall impressive lighting plot. Downstage, she crawls to the precipice to scream her grief and fury into the faces of the audience.
And, the band plays on. What musicians, led by the composer himself on piano and drums! Each instrumentalist a breathtaking virtuoso, each with moments in the sun as they power through phases of scored passages and raucous jazz improv.
This is anything but a fun night out and the audience response is mixed, some leaping to acclaim and some clapping limply. It is not theatre for everyone. It is highly esoteric and perhaps overthought. This critic was glad of the one and only happy musical moment but yearned for less relentless introspection and craved a little more of the infectious stage spirit which immortalised Josephine Baker.
Samela Harris
When: 1 to 4 Mar
Where: Her Majesty’s Theatre
Bookings: ticketek.com.au
Adelaide Festival. Windmill Theatre Company. Adelaide Entertainment Centre. 28 Feb 2026
As the audience files into the arena and climbs into the bleachers, skaters whizz around the track; women in shorts, t-shirts, helmets and knee pads. It’s already exciting, as they form patterns and weave in and around each other. It’s roller derby!
Based on the experiences of Director Clare Watson and penned by Virginia Gay, Mama Does Derby is the story of the very close relationship between single mother, Maxine (Amber McMahon) and teenage daughter Billie (Elvy-Lee Quici). The pair do everything together, whether it be road trips across the country or travelling through Tibet. It’s been a nomadic life, so it’s all a bit of a shock to end up in a small town after inheriting a house.
It’s time to do normal things, like go to school, take driving lessons, get a job in admin. But these two approach normality from way left of centre, and thanks to Gay’s sparkling script, the repartee between the two sets them up to deal with it all as they always have, together. And defending/supporting each other to the hilt. Until… But that’s later.
Driving lessons come via Weird Neil, the neighbour (Antoine Jelk), who has a minor preoccupation with death. And the car is an old hearse. At school, Billie is befriended by Hux (Aud Mason-Hyde) who has some issues of his own but recognises the outsider in Billie. Billie, an artist, is fascinated with Frida Kahlo and soon enough is in trouble at school for filling her books with ‘doodles’, adaptations of Kahlo’s work. Enter the counsellor/therapist (Annabel Matheson) and the darker side of this story begins to emerge.
Billie is afraid; of the dark in her bedroom, of the demon who lives under the bed and of the crushing weight that settles on her chest when she tries to sleep. “Name your demon!” suggests the therapist.
A word on this demon. Black and sparkling, we first see it as a large, clawed hand, sliding out from under the bed. It emerges a little more each night, unless we see it in all its fearsome wonder. And a wonder it is. A lissom, elastic, sinuous creature, a voice scraped from an ancient tomb, a body that winds and twists itself around the room, taunting, horrifying yet chillingly attractive. Benjamin Hancock threatens to steal the show with this character;’ fortunately, Gay pulls it all back when Billie, as her therapist advises, names the creature ‘Nathan’. And blow me down if that’s not the creature’s name. “How did you know?” develops into a relationship, that by the end…
…but that would be telling.
It seems to take quite a while before we get to the roller derby component of the show, but in the meantime, the skaters (who hail from the Adelaide Roller Derby League) have not been idle. The set itself is on wheels; couches, bedrooms and kitchens are rolled in and out by the derby crew, as is the three-piece live band. Dressed in the black and white stripes of umpires, under the direction of Joe Paradise Lui (music director/guitar and vocals) they pump out excerpts of artists of the ilk of Charlie XCX and Bikini Kill, add a bit of narration and even take on the odd role (the afore mentioned Antoine Jelk also plays drums and is the voice of Nathan).
Maxine finally takes to the wheels. After a bit of night skating, she comes across the derby gals. She keeps this from Billie; she just wants a little bit of something for herself. Billie’s night terrors become worse and eventually, after being left at home by herself again, she discovers that ‘Mad Max’ has been keeping secrets from her. Can the relationship survive this?
Amber McMahon is a consummate comic actor. She uses her face, her body and her voice to accentuate lines and scenes, bringing to her character the strength of the independent woman, the pathos of loneliness and the blinding protection of the single mother for her offspring. And all with a comedic and dramatic timing that demonstrates the skilled actor she is.
Elvy-Lee Quici brings confusion and vulnerability to the juggle between her teenager hood and a world-weary knowledge beyond her years, as she discovers why Nathan is in her life, and just what the weight is that lies heavy upon her young body. She is at once childlike and a blossoming young woman, learning to let go.
Virginia Gay and Clare Watson have done a sterling job; the script is funny, sad, insightful, intelligent and incisive. The direction is clear and clever, the set delightful, and the characters are beautifully realised. This production promises much, and with just a touch of biffo, it delivers.
Arna Eyers-White
When: 28 Feb to 8 Mar
Where: Adelaide Entertainment Centre
Bookings: ticketek.com.au
★★1/2
Adelaide Fringe. The Parks Theatres. 28 Feb 2026\
The Elephant Room is a brand-new Australian play being premièred at the Adelaide Fringe.
According to the printed Fringe Guide, the work is presented by Goldmann Collective, while the website lists Froxfield Theatre. At present, there is limited readily accessible information about the company, cast and creatives beyond the Fringe listing and a handful of social media posts. As with any emerging company, increasing online visibility will only strengthen audience engagement and help interested patrons connect more easily with the artists behind the work.
So, to the show itself.
The performance this reviewer attended had a very modest audience—whether due to venue familiarity, publicity reach, or the crowded Fringe marketplace—yet the two performers committed fully and energetically to the task at hand. That dedication deserves acknowledgement.
The play examines the extended aftermath of a hit-and-run accident from the perspective of the driver, Theo. Seeking both redemption and accountability, he elects to participate in an experimental rehabilitation program built around isolation, sensory deprivation, and sessions with an unseen “facilitator”, Joel. The dramatic tension lies in the evolving exchanges between patient and facilitator, and the shifting psychological terrain between them.
For fifty minutes the actors inhabit a tight circle of icy white light. A white cloth defines the patient’s isolation room furnished by only a bed; chairs sit beyond its border for the facilitator. Visually, the aesthetic is striking and cohesive, and the accompanying soundscape effectively supports the mood and atmosphere.
The production makes confident use of shadow and silence. At times, the stillness feels prolonged, and several moments carry the weight of a possible ending but the narrative continues. With further shaping, these pauses may gain even greater dramatic precision.
Theo is a demanding role, and the actor—who also appears to be the playwright—sustains it with focus and emotional commitment. Joel is given an intriguing edge: at moments his earnestness hints at something more ambiguous, creating a productive tension against the tentative rapport forming between the two men. Greater vocal projection would enhance clarity and ensure the text lands with full impact, particularly in a venue of this size.
The script is ambitious and thematically substantial. With continued development and performance, there is clear potential to refine the structure and more sharply reveal the emotional spine of the work, deepening the audience’s investment in these complex characters. When that connection fully takes hold, the play’s exploration of guilt, responsibility and redemption will resonate even more powerfully—and this emerging company will undoubtedly continue to grow in confidence and voice.
Kym Clayton
When: 27 Feb to 1 Mar
Where: The Parks Theatre
Bookings: adelaidefringe.com.au
Adelaide Festival. Dunstan Playhouse. 28 Feb 2026
History of Violence is beautiful theatre about ugly themes. It is an adaptation of an autobiographical story of the same name by Édouard Louis.
History of Violence follows the leadup to, unfolding and aftermath of the rape and attempted murder of Édouard by Reda. The depiction of this is unpleasant but well executed. An innocent tryst between two young gay men on Christmas Eve goes horribly wrong. Issues of poverty and fate, systemic and personal racism, and classism are also addressed, and they provide uncomfortable lenses through which to interrogate the sexual violence that is central to the plot.
The action is not played out chronologically, and we move backwards and forwards in time and through various locations as the rape is examined by Édouard himself, Reda, police, forensic investigators, and Édouard’s family, particularly his sister.
The play is spoken in German, with English surtitles projected on the upstage video screen. With the performance played non-stop and coming in at around two hours without an interval, following the surtitles was a challenge. This reviewer felt they were too comprehensive and too fast at times and took your attention away from the finer nuances of what the cast were doing.
A key idea that is explored in the play is how discussion of an event causes different recollections. It’s almost a sociological analogue of a scientific principle that once a ‘system’ is observed it is altered forever. As Édouard is questioned about the terrible events, the content of his answers and explanations are influenced by what he thinks might be the prejudices of the questioner and how they might be judging Édouard himself. It’s not so much Édouard wanting to hide or admit various things, it’s more that he doesn’t want to facilitate the questioner constructing interpretations about Édouard’s world. For example, the police are astounded that Édouard would even think about having a one-night stand on Christmas Eve. Édouard expresses genuine surprise and responds ‘yes, why not?’. His interrogators fail to recognise Reda’s exact ethnicity and simply dismiss him as another economic refugee ‘from North Africa’. Édouard responds by almost not wanting to press charges because Reda’s circumstances likely forced him to do what he did, and who can say they wouldn’t do the same if they were in similar circumstances.
The rape and violence is initiated by Édouard indirectly accusing Reda of a crime. This very act makes Édouard a more complex character, and, arguably, less likeable in the eyes of the audience. In some ways, Édouard and Reda become ‘equals’ as protagonists, and this is part of the beauty in the writing and the adaptation. In simple terms, there are two sides to the story: who or what one believes depends on one’s observational standpoint.
Édouard Louis’s character is played by Laurenz Laufenberg, and Reda by Renato Schuch. They are compelling. Laufenberg gives Édouard a sense of superiority, which is clearly recognised by his sister Clara, played by Alina Stiegler, and her husband played by Christoph Gawenda. They both convincingly double as other characters and are the source of much needed moments of humour to break the tension. Clara in particular asks laser focussed questions of Édouard , and she frequently turns the direction of the action and Édouard’s countenance in an instant. Again, good writing, and tight direction by Thomas Ostermeier.
The play is simply set on an almost bare stage. There are a few items of furniture that tare moved into place as needed, and there is a functional shower that is used on several occasions. In one memorable and almost confusing flash-back scene at the start of the play, where Christoph Gawenda plays Édouard, Gawenda strips and showers to wash away the stain of the rape.
A key dramatic device is the cast using mobile telephones to video various scenes which are then projected in real time onto a giant screen that comprises the upstage wall of the set. Intimate and other moments are exposed in minute detail, and we as audience almost feel voyeuristic. There is also an on-stage musician, Thomas Witte, who in the time-honoured tradition of silent movie organists provides compelling accompaniment to a number of scenes. His evocative underscore drives a sense of urgency and foreboding.
Yes, beautiful theatre but about ugly themes.
Kym Clayton
When: 27 Feb to 2 Mar
Where: Dunstan Playhouse
Bookings: ticketek.com.au