Review: Pin Drop, Observe the Sons of Ulster

We all know some variation or other of this feeling. You are alone, it is dark. You hear an almost inaudible sound, just on the edge of hear...

Review: Die Winterreise, Undine

For the first ten minutes or so, I was completely transfixed by Matthew Lutton's theatrical extrapolation of Schubert's late song cy...

Review: Hamlet

Back in another age, when dinosaurs roamed the earth and I was a copygirl in the Finance section of that long-gone afternoon daily the Melbo...

Review: Small Odysseys

Watching Rawcus's superb new production Small Odysseys was an oddly personal experience. For me, it was the psychological equivalent of ...

Melbourne Festival: here we go

Launches have their conventions: they are the events where those interests, state and corporate, who invest lavishly in an event get to stan...

Form, content, feeling, perception, knowledge

If in art we are comparing a cat with another cat, or a flower with another flower, the artistic form as such is not constructed solely of t...

Review: The Burlesque Hour Loves Melbourne

Right now, just after the winter solstice, Ms TN is struggling. The skies have been grey for too long, the news has been bleak for too long,...