Much Ado About Nothing by Melbourne Theatre Company; Opera Australia’s Carmen at Regent Theatre; Piotr Anderszewski at Melbourne Recital Centre; Cocteau’s Circle by the ACO; Sam Fender at Sidney Myer Music Bowl; Guewel at Arts House, The Haunting of Spook Mansion (By Ghosts) at Chapel on Chapel

Chanella Macri is priceless lampooning the curt malevolence of Don John, complete with ominous entrance music. Miela Anich balances the victimised Hero by playing Borachio as a luxuriantly mulleted boofhead bro. Julie Forsyth is a scream as Dogberry and the Friar, skewering male self-importance to comedic perfection, and throwing a few choice punches from the other side of the gender war as Hero’s formidable (if boozy) nurse Ursula.

All the actors pay close attention to the warped masculinity leading male characters astray. There’s a piercing moment when Remy Heremaia’s Claudio moves downstage to stare at the audience, stricken with private shame, as John Shearman’s obnoxious man-boy Prince makes puerile fun of their catastrophic act of slut-shaming. And Syd Brisbane’s mild Leonato shows how even good blokes can slide into callous misogyny under stress.

Anna Cordingley’s set is frankly still ugly – mercilessly exposed wings and a replica of Sam Newman’s notorious house in St Kilda West, featuring an image of Pamela Anderson – but that’s intentional, and it does give neat visual cues exposing the feminist deconstruction underlying the performances. (A flat of Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus, say, or a cushion with a print of Caravaggio’s Medusa, or costumes reminding us of the performative nature of gender in Elizabethan and modern times.)

Director Mark Wilson delivers a clever, playful and very funny production. Even Shakespearean aficionados will find something new to admire here, and mixing in drag and gendered antics works at both a dramatic level – lending a sharper edge to the way the play veers to the verge of tragedy before comic resolution – and a cultural one, giving younger generations a relatable entree to the Bard’s timeless romcom.
Reviewed by Cameron Woodhead

OPERA
Carmen ★★★★
Opera Australia, The Regent Theatre, until November 25

Fans have been begging superstar soprano Danielle de Niese to sing Carmen for almost 20 years. She possesses many of the requisite qualities – her stage presence is electric, she’s known for her musicality and she’s physically stunning.

After such a long gestation, de Niese’s eventual debut as Georges Bizet’s infamous gypsy was always going to garner attention and opinion. While the role of Carmen is a mezzo soprano and de Niese is not, her interpretation is still one that’s been worth the wait.

This opera is as accessible as it gets. A plot that keeps pace with a superb score, and the Habanera, Toreador Song, Seguidilla – there are no skips on the Carmen playlist. An orchestra can really have a great time with it, and led by young Neapolitan conductor Clelia Cafiero, Orchestra Victoria does. Each entr’acte was respectively excellent, played with infectious energy and poignancy. Opera Australia should get Cafiero back.

The company is guilty of rolling out a Moshinsky or Oxenbould production one too many times, so it’s exciting to see a new, modern staging here by MTC artistic director and chief executive Anne-Louise Sarks.

As de Niese creeps past the age of 45, singing Carmen was perhaps a case of now or never. Her voice does not have the chocolatey depths of Carmen’s past, but she is undeniably a master of expression, her voice lithe and clear at the top, with gorgeous use of French text. De Niese has publicly professed to be focused on storytelling in opera, and she delivers a performance that is faithful to that philosophy.

It takes a tenor of real commitment to break the character of Don Jose out of his common portrayal as a meek mama’s boy. Disappointingly, Abraham Bretón stayed within this trope. Wooden and without musicality, Bretón’s eagle-eyed watching of Cafiero disrupted many a dramatically important moment.

But with excellent performances across the board in smaller roles and from the Opera Australia chorus, this sparkly new Carmen is indubitably entertaining. Perfect for newcomers and Danielle de Niese superfans alike.
Reviewed by Bridget Davies

MUSIC
Piotr Anderszewski ★★★★
Musica Viva, Melbourne Recital Centre, November 18

Concerts brought to you by the three big Bs of classical music – Bach, Beethoven and Brahms – are something of a rarity these days. Polish-born pianist Piotr Anderszewski, however, has the measure of these titans and brought his persuasive mastery of technique and touch to a generous selection of their works.

Devoting the first half of the program to an uninterrupted hour-long exploration of Brahms’s late miniatures was a feat in itself. Superb colouration and nuanced characterisation made for a spellbinding experience (sadly marred by a ringing phone and a dropped plastic cup).

Amongst the many ravishing intermezzos, Op. 119, No. 1 unfolded like an exquisite hothouse flower, while the heartache of Op. 118, No. 2 lingered in the memory. At the other end of the spectrum, the Rhapsody, Op. 119, No. 4 was propelled by a rustic vigour, Anderszewski revelling in the composer’s off-beat rhythms.

After interval, two sets of preludes and fugues from the second book of Bach’s Well Tempered Clavier (in E major, BWV 878 and G-sharp minor, BWV 887) presented Anderszewski in a different light. Copious use of the pedal gave the E major prelude a rather glassy sheen, akin to viewing an old master painting through too much varnish, while the fugue took on an anguished persona, pushing the counterpoint out of shape.

The G-sharp minor prelude benefited from some playfulness while the fugue, presented on a quiet plane segued neatly into Beethoven’s Sonata No. 31 in A-flat major, Op. 110.

Anderszewski perfectly realised the score’s air of valediction. Preceding the piercing beauty of the central Arioso came a honeyed, cantabile opening, well contrasted with the rambunctious second movement.

With its emotional ups and downs, the fugal finale led to an exultant, ringing affirmation of life and love, closing out Musica Viva’s satisfying 80th anniversary celebrations.
Reviewed by Tony Way

MUSIC
Cocteau’s Circle ★★★★
Australian Chamber Orchestra, Melbourne Recital Centre, November 15

“Astonish me!” This striking command drove the work of French poet and artistic polymath Jean Cocteau, after he was challenged by legendary Russian ballet impresario Sergei Diaghilev. In the years following World War I, Cocteau became associated with a remarkable number of painters, writers and most importantly, musicians. His collaborations with composers such as Stravinsky, Satie, Poulenc and Honegger certainly did yield astonishing results.

In paying homage to Cocteau’s remarkable legacy, the Australian Chamber Orchestra has chosen to celebrate it in truly contemporary fashion. Set in a smoky, would-be cabaret, Cocteau’s spirit speaks through Le Gateau Chocolat, whose combination of deep bass voice, gender-bending costumes and outré stage presence reinterpret the libertine ambience of interwar Paris for our own times.

Richard Tognetti and the ACO enthusiastically lead the audience on a 90-minute musical odyssey through scores associated with Cocteau, interspersed with empathetic connective tissue commissioned from Elena Kats-Chernin.

Australian-born, German-based soprano Chloe Lankshear adds a classy vocal element, including a nostalgic sung waltz by Poulenc and Lili Boulanger’s plangent Pie Jesu, before finishing with a husky, impassioned account of Edith Piaf’s Hymn to Love. Melbourne pianist Stefan Cassomenos dashes off some pianistic pyrotechnics from Jean Francaix’s Concertino for Piano and Orchestra with customary aplomb.

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Movements from string quartets by Ravel and Debussy arranged for the orchestra elicit the ACO’s habitual verve, as does Darius Milhaud’s Le boeuf sur le toit, named for the bar where Cocteau’s set used to hang out.

Le Gateau Chocolat’s glitteringly camp but heartfelt vocal contributions range from Gershwin to, of all things, Janis Ian’s 1970s hit Stars.

While perhaps not astonishing, this thoughtful, colourful tribute to one of last century’s most precocious artistic minds does have an appropriate sense of pushing boundaries, just as the ACO has done over its 50 years of existence.
Reviewed by Tony Way

MUSIC
Sam Fender | People Watching Tour ★★★★
Sidney Myer Music Bowl, November 14

The brisk cold of a Melbourne spring evening doesn’t thwart the crowd’s enthusiasm at Sidney Myer Music Bowl. Some in the seated section have already left their allocated spots to surround the front of the stage. When the lights dim, fans roar at Sam Fender and his band’s arrival.

The 31-year-old English singer-songwriter from North Shields has sold out arenas across the UK, Ireland, Europe and North America. He recently won the Mercury Prize for his 2025 album People Watching – awarded to musicians from the UK and Ireland for best album – and donated the winnings to the Music Venues Trust, a charity that preserves small live performance venues.

Fender is accompanied by a seven-piece band filled with multi-instrumentalists, including drums, guitar, keys, back-up vocals, tambourine, saxophone and trumpet. When they all perform together, the sound inside the bowl is so electric you can feel the pulsating rhythm in your body; getting lost in the music, you forget where you are.

Despite confessing that he’s suffering from jet lag, Fender’s performance never falters. “All right, let’s do this, lads,” he says as he launches into Will We Talk? His repertoire is a mix of slower tracks and American-style 1970s rock ballads. Talk to You, a collaboration featuring Elton John on piano on the original track, is sung with an air of regret about the end of a long-term friendship. Spit of You seeps with a pleading tone as he sings about the fraught communication between a father and son; a Polaroid appears of him and his father on screen.

Contrastingly, the album’s title track People Watching feels anthemic and Crumbling Empire is reminiscent of the Killers’ heartland rock era, with visuals of mountain ranges, desert landscapes and industrial plants playing into the working-class sensibility. Howdon Aldi Death Queue is a fun punk rock interlude, which Fender jokingly describes as “the stupidest song I ever wrote”.

Seventeen Going Under is a highlight. Fender demands that the crowd sings along, and they abide enthusiastically. The keyboard player stands on his seat and amps up fans as the drums pound and trumpet and saxophone soar. Fender makes fun of the pretence of leaving the stage before an encore, and the crowd continues the vocal riff to coax him back.

“Melbourne, thank you so much for a wonderful f—ing night,” Fender shouts. With a bang, white confetti fills the air, followed by deafening guitar and cheers.
Reviewed by Vyshnavee Wijekumar

PERFORMANCE
Guewel ★★★
Arts House, until November 16

A guewel is a West African oral historian, someone who carries in memory the stories of local families, who can summon the lore of a place and its people as a celebratory recitation.

In this hour-long production led by Lamine Sonko, the figure of the guewel is reimagined as a conduit between earthly rhythms and the life of the stars: the custodian of a larger lore.

The show sketches the outlines of a cosmology, while also showcasing a cohort of gifted performers – dancers, musicians, ritualists – in front of lushly animated projections.

At its centre are three figures personifying the sun, the moon and the stars. Their full-body costumes – gorgeously sculptural – recall masquerades from Senegal’s Casamance region, with their all-enveloping silhouettes.

The dried fronds and towering crest of the figure representing the stars suggest a Kumpo-like apparition, while the moon reads as a delicate crescent, with cowrie shells gleaming on dark cloth.

The costumes are impressive, but the voltage that runs through Guewel comes from the drumming and dancing. Hand-drum flurries launch sudden accelerations; legs carve lateral pathways as the dancers kick up their heels.

The animations are often beautiful, with veils and translucencies, but at times the smoky effects pull focus from bodies onstage. The visual busyness dilutes the intimacy.

Still, it’s the projections that spell out the work’s big ideas: everything is interwoven, nature moves in cycles. The cosmology is legible, even when dramaturgical transitions feel more ceremonial than exploratory.

What does it mean to really inhabit ancestral knowledge, not just cite it?

Brief as it is, Guewel cannot offer a full answer. It plays more like a prelude that clears space for a deeper encounter.

Seven years in gestation and framed as a cross-cultural collaboration, Guewel feels like the opening scene of a larger narrative – and makes you curious for the epic adventure to follow.
Reviewed by Andrew Fuhrmann

THEATRE
The Haunting of Spook Mansion (By Ghosts) ★★
Chapel Off Chapel, until November 23

This paranormal piss-take from comedy writer Michael Ward (Shaun Micallef’s Mad as Hell, RockWiz, I’m A Celebrity … Get Me Out of Here) sports well-known comedic talent. It’s flagrantly inane and does scrape the bottom of the proverbial, humour-wise, though it does also barrel along.

Ghost-busting super-sceptic professor Adrian Chambers (Peter Houghton) has made a career debunking the supernatural. At a sparsely attended launch for his latest book, he’s buttonholed by hot librarian Beth Jackson (Emily Taheny) during the post-launch Q&A.

Yet the bookish Beth is no ordinary fan. She has a fiendish proposition for Chambers: $500,000 to spend the night in Spook Mansion, a notorious haunted house. Chambers nearly declines – crackpot offers are common in the paranormal investigation biz – but he needs the cash.

So begins a ridiculous comedy horror haunted by every trope in the book, including an elderly potato-seller with a terrible provincial accent (Ben Russell) to warn the stranger off.

Spook Mansion goes all in for cheesy visual tricks: bookcases, sinister portraits, a fireplace with strange objects on the mantel. Beth will summon poltergeists and apparitions in a seance; the source of the clangour in the basement will be discovered.

Why has Chambers been lured to this place? All will come to light, as murderous secrets are revealed and a diabolical plot unmasked. Some of the buffoonery relies on pop culture references aimed at Boomer and Gen X audiences, but there are enough shameless hijinks on offer, under Russell Fletcher’s direction, to get a giggle and a snort from anyone.

As a mainstream lampoon of supernatural horror, The Haunting of Spook Mansion (By Ghosts) does the job, but it could be significantly improved. Plot points swarm the denouement like flying monkeys, in a way that makes final revelations difficult to follow. And the show sometimes feels like a TV comedy skit that got out of hand.

Clowning, running gags, dreadful puns and quirky character-based comedy all take the edge off narrative defects, however, and seeing performers of the calibre of Houghton, Taheny and Russell live was never going to be boring. This short play remains a droll diversion for anyone with a taste for supremely silly comedy horror.
Reviewed by Cameron Woodhead

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