The fact that this exhibition strategically begun in January and continues through to February - thus including Australia (Massacre) Day - insinuates the need for some soul-searching. Our murky cultural heritage speaks volumes about national pride.
It runs on a roundabout argument/counter-argument counterpoint, but it’s missing interlocking sections, call-backs, dramatic peaks. What should be a series of poignant sketches sometimes feels like a string of comments on a Guardian article. Zoe Kilbourn reviews.
From the suspenseful and sultry aerial performer Yammel Rodriguez, who smokes a cigar in stockings and heels while flipping and seductively sliding down the aerial silk, to the upbeat and vivacious cabaret star Miss Frisky singing ABBA in an outrageously glittery gown, each act was somehow embellished in a quirky and daring way.
WIth a very generous open mike, anyone annoying, amazing, boring, or bad can get up and read original, or unoriginal, material. All the while a braying crowd - hungry and screaming - jeer and toss rotten fruit at the worst performers, saving roses for the best.
Each beautiful performance is unique and immersive, but together they transport you from Perth to Paris, giving the truly sexy, ‘sensory burlesque experience’ that Fringe has never seen before. Personally, I have never been more aroused by native flora and disembodied legs. Review by Caz Stafford.
Its Australian debut, 'The Eulogy' is a sombre affair, not because we mourn the death of Thomas, but because we mourn the loss of an hour that might only have been worse if one spent it trying to coax an ounce of personality out of Bill Shorten. Samuel J. Cox reviews.