Reviews

A whimsical tale about a magical nanny with a life lesson thrown in for good measure. Director Matt Byrne has produced a delightful production that will serve your childhood memories well. This childhood book made into a musical has been on the stage somewhere around the world since 2004. Bringing such a well- known character to life can be fraught with comparisons, but you would be harsh not to enjoy the energetic display of talent on the stage.

Pluck! is described as a black comedy that "grapples head on with love, lust, God and what (if anything) it means to be a man." True enough, snippets of all those thematic concerns were presented throughout this truly odd play, albeit in an extremely piecemeal way. It is the story of one Dr Pluck (Brendan Ewing), an unlikeable, self-deluded egotist who is, inexplicably, married to a woman with whom he seems to have no chemistry or connection whatsoever.

Shitis confrontational theatre: it’s aggressive, foul-mouthed, angry and challenging.  It’s also heart-breaking and poignant.  There are three women on stage – Billie, Bobbie and Sam.  The kind of women genteel people avoid in the street or on public transport: high volume, obscene, kind of messy and spoiling for a fight.  The kind of women who are ‘pretty awful’, says the program note from Ms Cornelius and Ms Dee, but they add, ‘They’ve got good reason to be.’

Triple threat dinosaurs roam the Reginald jungle, downstairs at the Seymour Centre. It’s an attractive, effective, moveable potted-palm-populated set design by Neil Shotter, very much in on the joke, aided and abetted by clever lighting and atmospherics from Mikey Rice.

Just when you thought musicals had become deep and meaningful, along comes a silly pop culture musical comedy, sending up Hollywood blockbuster excesses, reminding you that once all that was asked of the genre were song, dance and gags.