We've spent the last 23 days cramming in as much of Sydney Festival as we could, taking in everything from immersive visual art to provocative cabaret, 80s-styled circus and beach opera — even in torrential rain, or on glorious blue-sky days when we were tempted to hit the beach instead.
That means we feel pretty well-placed to share our favourites from the festival, from the jam-packed first week to the very last. We hope you take some time this weekend to get a final show in (you know we will).
Blue
Thomas Weatherall's one-man play tells the story of Mark, a young man navigating his way through grief, love, a mother-son relationship, and the courage it takes to grow up.
This remarkable debut premiered upstairs at Belvoir St Theatre, performed by Weatherall; downstairs, Elaine Crombie's one-woman show Janet's Vagrant Love (itself a work that reflects on the idea of raising Black sons – this time from the perspective of a mother) was also playing. The foyer had been transformed by a mural from Kamilaroi/Gamilaraay artist Dennis Golding and his mother Vicki.
Weatherall's Blue brought together four years of collected writing from the Heartbreak High star and 2021 Balnaves Fellow, including some he'd begun while still in high school himself.
Performing on a textured white set shaped like a wave (co-designed by Jacob Nash and Cris Baldwin), Weatherall allows his monologue to build and break.
It's hard to describe the show without it sounding like every other coming-of-age story, but Weatherall really has brought something different to the stage, and in doing so has marked himself as a talent to watch not just as an actor, but a writer. RB
Blue is at Belvoir St Theatre until January 29.
Manifesto
This "tattoo to optimism" by Melbourne-based choreographer Stephanie Lake (behind breakout festival hit Colossus) was my most anticipated show at this year's festival — and it did not disappoint.
Nine dancers and nine drummers perform on a musk-velvet-draped set with the kind of old-Hollywood grandeur of Busby Berkeley — a staging even more delightful when set against the concrete, industrial backdrop of Carriageworks.
In the hands of Lake and her partner (in life and arts) Robin Fox, this ostensibly simple recipe is whipped up to an exhilarating almost-perfection: foot-stomping, heart-skipping sound; choreography that ranges from jaw-dropping precision and control to sequences of wild, sweaty abandon.
The proof was in the pudding — in the spontaneous applause and cheers through the show, and the standing ovation at its end.
There appeared to be no weak links: Every time my wife or I (she with her eyes glued to the drummers for most of the show, mine on the dancers) thought we'd identified the strongest performers, we were dazzled by someone we'd overlooked.
Lake has an incredible ability to weave together different choreographic styles and draw magic out of her dancers; Fox, a sound and light artist and composer who has collaborated with her for more than a decade, is a brilliant artist in his own right. Together, they're proving an unstoppable force. DJ
Manifesto is at Perth Festival from February 8-12.
Paul Yore: WORD MADE FLESH
While I would've loved to see the full retrospective exhibited at ACCA in Melbourne in 2021, Paul Yore's new installation work alone was enough to have me reeling from its bold clash of audio and visual sensations.
The Melbourne artist has created an entrancing neon wonderland, assembled from found objects such as used tomato sauce bottles or cans of pineapple (the words "HI MUM" painted on a can's side), decorated dildos, Bride to Be buttons and children's toys.
This is art as information overload, as sculptural collage.
WORD MADE FLESH critiques capitalism, while also conjuring the malaise and disaffection wrought by that system: "NOTHING, NOTHING, NOTHING," screams a mirror on a wall, beside a series of other sad-boy-anti-capitalist slogans.
Whether you're peering at the side of a bedazzled car that reads "SEE YOU IN HELL", or sitting under a dome festooned with neon lights shaped like pink elephants, flowers and love hearts, or phrases such as "IT'S TIME" and "THIS IS NOT THE END," there is no escaping the tinkle and clatter of Yore's anarchic world.
But there's a strange beauty here too — in seeing how things thrown away can be turned into something new; into something that is disturbing and wonderful at the same time. HS
Paul Yore: WORD MADE FLESH is at Carriageworks until February 26.
Happy Meal
Sydney Festival offers a window into inventive and significant artistic work from around the world and brings it to local audiences as a gift of something new, different, or just much-needed. Happy Meal is all three.
Written by Tabby Lamb, a non-binary writer and performer based in East London, and directed by Jamie Fletcher, Happy Meal has entered the international touring circuit after winning a Scotsman Fringe First Award at the Edinburgh Fringe in 2022.
Its premise is simple: Two characters meet on Club Penguin (a virtual world and online game from the 00s) early in adolescence. Alec (Sam Crerar) and Bette (Tommi Bryson) become friends on the internet, and projections flash across the set to show us the communication landscape they use – all from the emergence of Web 2.0, where user-generated, social spaces began to shape the browsing experience.
There's a freedom in this environment for these two lonely British teens who are slowly coming to terms with their trans identities. Alec and Bette get closer to themselves, and each other, on Myspace, Neopets, Twitter and beyond. It's an irresistibly millennial love story. CT
Happy Meal is at Perth Festival from February 9-11.
Alice Skye
Just one week into 2023, Wergia/Wemba Wemba singer-songwriter Alice Skye gave a stripped-back, solo performance at the festival's tiny, temporary club: The Weary Traveller, hidden under Seidler's 'mushroom' tower in Martin Place.
This style of show has become rare for Skye (she says performing solo makes her nervous) but it suits the dreamy introspection that characterises both her albums: Friends with Feelings (2018) and I Feel Better But I Don't Feel Good (2021).
I've always felt like there's something radical about the depth of vulnerability Skye is prepared to show in her music. Now, having finally been able to see her perform live, this idea has solidified.
Between songs, Skye candidly shared her thoughts on music, mental health, language and culture, relationships, and the embarrassment she felt when a former roommate once saw her browser history.
In doing so, Skye created an atmosphere that gave her audience permission to surrender all the messy thoughts and feelings of the past few years, and find sanctuary. At least for the night. RB
The Artist
It's difficult to create a show that will truly cater to a range of audience ages, personalities, and experiences; but The Artist, part of the festival's family program, is a true crowd-pleaser – at the performance I attended, performer Thom Monckton had young children and gruff dads alike paying rapt attention to his antics.
The Artist (Monckton) is in his studio. He deals with a leak in the ceiling, stretches a canvas, and fetches a paintbrush from atop a high shelf. That all this happens with feats of physical daring and control, with pratfalls and contortion aplenty, has viewers leaning forward in their seats. By the time the Artist is playing a game of ping-pong against the entire audience, he seems to have won everyone over.
Monckton, a New Zealand-born entertainer, has been shaped by elite clown and circus training: CircoArts in Christchurch, École Jacques Lecoq in Paris, and Circa Aero in Finland. His sophisticated approach to physical comedy is balanced out by a keen sense of narrative; this wordless performance has clear arcs of conflict, resolution, and growth. His comedy is sharp and physical and doesn't rely on language to make sense. It's accessible and fun. CT
Christie Whelan Browne: Show People
Christie Whelan Browne, musical theatre mainstay and star of ABC TV's Shaun Micallef's Mad as Hell, has produced this cabaret love letter to the stage, as told by a variety of characters you might come across in show business.
The result is a hilarious and cutting satire that doesn't shy away from the ugliness of the industry, whether that be its failure to accommodate the needs of mothers, or its mishandling of accusations of sexual harassment.
The issues she spotlights, and figures she parodies (such as the agent encouraging her client to put off child-bearing, or the leading man outraged to have been accused of misbehaviour), seem drawn from life; unflinching and honest depictions are served up with a wry smile from Whelan Browne, who became a mother in 2021, and in 2018 was one of the women who accused Rocky Horror co-star Craig McLachlan of inappropriate behaviour (allegations McLachlan denied, suing her, Nine and the ABC — before dropping defamation charges in 2022).
Accompanied by composer Mathew Frank, Whelan Browne shows off her considerable range — all in the first song, where she parodies a recent WAAPA musical theatre graduate trying to impress with a medley of show tunes. And while the subject matter may seem serious at times, the show is overwhelmingly joyful, celebrating her characters' eccentricities. HS
Sun & Sea
Sun & Sea was one of the most raved-about productions at Sydney Festival — a timely meditation on humans' impact on the environment. Created by Lithuanian artists Rugilė Barzdžiukaitė, Vaiva Grainytė, and Lina Lapelytė, the mix of performance, installation and live opera won the Golden Lion at the Venice Biennale in 2019, and has since toured internationally, tweaked for each venue and audience.
To bring Sun & Sea's beach tableau to life in Sydney, 26 tonnes of sand was tipped onto the floor of Sydney Town Hall, and decorated with beach chairs, towels and toys.
On this unusual set, 70 local and international performers (including members of Sydney Philharmonia Choirs and the Latvian Youth Choir BALSIS) read, snacked, sunbaked and played games while they sang, with the audience watching from the mezzanine balconies, before filtering out at the end of their hour-long session. (A sandy-coloured dog risked stealing the show, as he dug into the sand or flopped onto a towel).
Singers took on roles such as the "wealthy mommy" or the "workoholic" (sic), as the libretto moved from commentary on climate change and natural disasters to an apt summary of how it feels to come home from a holiday: "After vacation, / Your hair shines, / Your eyes glitter, / Everything is fine." HS
Woven Song and Vigil: Awaken
This year's festival presented the opportunity to mark the eve of January 26 with a concert of songs in language, by Yorta Yorta/Yuin soprano and composer Deborah Cheetham, followed by a walk through the city to Barangaroo Reserve, for Vigil: Awaken — a 45-minute ceremony of smoke, song, dance and light, overlooking Me-Mel (or Goat Island).
Cheetham's Woven Song cycle, which premiered in 2020, features nine short pieces inspired by artworks by First Nations artists that had been transposed into woven form by the Australian Tapestry Workshop. The Sydney Festival concert, at the City Recital Hall, featured five of these, plus two additional works.
Cheetham hosted and sang, accompanied by guest artists (including Guzheng star Mindy Meng Wang) and a chamber ensemble that included members of Ensemble Dutala and Sydney Symphony Orchestra (among others).
I was prepared for the beauty and complexity of Cheetham's compositions, but having not seen her perform live before, I was struck by her easy charisma as she addressed the audience in conversational interludes.
During each composition, a screen above the stage showed images of the artwork that inspired it, alongside additional footage such as tapestries in progress — an effective (and affective) liaison that allowed for meditation on a day that marks, in Cheetham's words, the anniversary of the "last day of true self-determination" for the continent's First Peoples.
Vigil: Awaken also held space for contemplation: There was spectacle, but it felt mindful.
Devised by theatre designer Jacob Nash (Sydney Festival's creative artist in residence, and head of design at Bangarra) and former Bangarra artistic director Stephen Page, the ceremony kicked off at dusk with ceremonial smoke and an amplified soundtrack of song in language, like a call to awaken Me-Mel, an island set to return to First Nations custodianship this year, following centuries of colonial use.
A stage on the foreshore featured Bangarra dancers, against a large screen backdrop. Parts of Me-Mel were washed in blue and pink tones, before a lone light ascended above the island, trailing sparks in its wake — like a shooting star in majestic slow motion. At the end of the ceremony, drones formed two concentric circles of rainbow-hued LEDs in the sky, rotating slowly, with quiet gravitas — a moment that felt optimistic and generous.
When I spoke to Nash about Vigil earlier in the month, he said: "I have a strong desire to make First Nations images in the city that remind everyone all the time: Always was, always will be; we're always here." Here's to him claiming further and larger canvases. DJ
