Goat

The Rocky Horror Show

/ antakalipa

THE ROCKY HORROR SHOW

A Glorious Celebration of Freedom, Fantasy and Theatrical Anarchy

There are productions that entertain.

There are productions that move audiences.

And then there are productions that arrive like a glitter-covered meteor crashing through the roof of convention itself.

The Rocky Horror Show is one of those productions.

On the same day that I had experienced the emotional weight and dramatic intensity of theatre elsewhere, I found myself once again seated at the Pieter Toerien Theatre at Montecasino. Yet what unfolded before me could not have been more different. Where tragedy had demanded reflection, Rocky Horror demanded surrender.

Surrender to laughter.

Surrender to absurdity.

Surrender to music.

Surrender to freedom.

From the moment the house lights dimmed and the opening notes of Science Fiction Double Feature echoed through the theatre, it became clear that this was not simply a musical.

It was a celebration.

A carnival of imagination.

A love letter to outsiders.

A joyous rebellion against conformity.

And what a rebellion it was.

Fishnets, Corsets and Fair Warning

Before a single note was sung and before a single spotlight illuminated the stage, there was already a sense that this evening was going to be unlike any other.

The foyer itself felt like an extension of the performance.

Audience members arrived dressed for the occasion. Corsets. Fishnet stockings. Sequins. Leather. Feather boas. Elaborate makeup. The line between audience and performer seemed to disappear long before the curtain rose.

For those attending Rocky Horror for the first time, the experience can initially be surprising. There were men confidently dressed in fishnets and corsets, women embracing extravagant costumes and theatre lovers celebrating self-expression in all its forms.

At first glance it can feel unusual.

Then, very quickly, it becomes part of the joy.

Because Rocky Horror has never been interested in convention.

It has never asked permission to be different.

It has always celebrated individuality, freedom and the courage to embrace one’s authentic self.

Yet it is important to state clearly that this production is not intended for children.

The age restriction exists for good reason.

Parents considering bringing younger children should think carefully before purchasing tickets.

Rocky Horror is filled with adult humour, sexual innuendo, provocative costumes, suggestive choreography and themes designed for mature audiences. There are moments that will have adults roaring with laughter while simultaneously wondering whether they should be laughing quite so hard.

The show delights in making audiences blush.

It enjoys pushing boundaries.

It revels in discomfort before transforming that discomfort into comedy.

None of it feels malicious.

None of it exists merely to shock.

Rather, it is part of Rocky Horror’s long-standing tradition of challenging social norms and encouraging audiences to question why certain things make us uncomfortable in the first place.

This is not family theatre.

This is cult theatre.

Wild.

Untamed.

Unapologetic.

And all the more entertaining because of it.

The Strange and Wonderful World of Rocky Horror

For more than fifty years, Richard O’Brien’s creation has occupied a unique place in theatre history.

Part science-fiction parody.

Part horror comedy.

Part rock concert.

Part social revolution.

Rocky Horror gleefully tears apart expectations and invites audiences into a world where absolutely anything feels possible.

There are aliens.

There are mad scientists.

There are strange experiments.

There are creatures stitched together from fantasy and desire.

And at the centre of it all lies a message that has allowed the show to survive generation after generation.

Be yourself.

Without apology.

Without compromise.

Without fear.

That message continues to resonate because every audience contains people who have felt different at some point in their lives.

Rocky Horror celebrates those people.

It always has.

Craig Urbani: The Magnificent Frank-N-Furter

Every production of Rocky Horror stands or falls on the strength of its Frank-N-Furter.

It is one of musical theatre’s most demanding roles.

The performer must possess charisma, vocal excellence, comic timing, confidence and an almost supernatural ability to command attention.

Craig Urbani possesses all of those qualities in abundance.

His Frank-N-Furter is sensational.

The moment he stepped onto the stage, the atmosphere changed.

The audience leaned forward.

Eyes widened.

Smiles spread.

The room belonged to him.

Urbani does not simply perform Frank-N-Furter.

He inhabits him.

He struts.

He prowls.

He seduces.

He mocks.

He dazzles.

His performance of Sweet Transvestite was one of the defining moments of the evening, a masterclass in theatrical confidence and stage presence.

Yet beneath the glamour lies remarkable craftsmanship.

Every gesture feels intentional.

Every line lands perfectly.

Every musical phrase is delivered with precision.

This is a performer operating at the height of his powers.

Janet and Brad: The Heart of the Story

Amid all the madness stand two ordinary people.

Janet Weiss and Brad Majors.

They are our guides into this extraordinary world.

Léa Blerk delivers a magnificent Janet Weiss.

Her transformation from innocent sweetheart to liberated participant in Frank-N-Furter’s world is one of the production’s most fascinating journeys.

She captures Janet’s vulnerability, curiosity and awakening with remarkable skill and confidence.

Robert Everson brings warmth, sincerity and excellent comic timing to Brad Majors.

As the increasingly bewildered fiancé attempting to make sense of the insanity unfolding around him, Everson generates enormous laughter while maintaining the character’s humanity.

Together they provide the emotional anchor of the production.

Without Brad and Janet, the audience has no compass.

Without Léa Blerk and Robert Everson, the story loses its heart.

The Extraordinary Residents of the Castle

The supporting cast deserves enormous praise.

Schoeman Smit delivers a wonderfully sinister and eccentric Riff Raff.

Jasmine Minter shines as Magenta, balancing mystery, mischief and theatrical flair.

Anna Oliver brings infectious energy and heart to Columbia, creating one of the production’s most memorable presences.

Micah Stojakovic impresses as Rocky, embracing both the physicality and larger-than-life absurdity of Frank-N-Furter’s creation.

Zak Hendriks demonstrates tremendous versatility and comic energy throughout the evening.

Each performer contributes something unique.

Each helps build the wonderfully bizarre ecosystem that makes Rocky Horror work.

The Ensemble: The Lifeblood of the Production

Great musicals are built on ensemble excellence.

This production possesses it in abundance.

Alessia Gironi.

Anne Power.

Gabriella Knight.

Miguel De Sampaio.

Sasha Duffy.

Taya Pearson.

Tjaart Van Der Walt.

Together with the principal cast, they transform every scene into a living, breathing spectacle.

Whether singing, dancing, moving scenery or creating atmosphere, their contribution is invaluable.

The audience naturally notices the stars.

The theatre community understands the importance of the ensemble.

These performers are the engine room of the production.

Every movement matters.

Every harmony matters.

Every entrance matters.

Their commitment elevates the entire show.

The Music: A Soundtrack for Outsiders

Part of Rocky Horror’s enduring brilliance lies in its score.

The songs are unforgettable.

Science Fiction Double Feature immediately establishes the show’s love affair with classic B-movie horror and science-fiction cinema.

Dammit Janet introduces Brad and Janet’s seemingly perfect world.

Over at the Frankenstein Place creates mystery and anticipation.

Then comes The Time Warp.

One of the most iconic songs in musical theatre history.

The audience erupted.

Generations know the lyrics.

Generations know the dance.

Generations continue to celebrate its glorious absurdity.

Sweet Transvestite announces Frank-N-Furter’s arrival with unforgettable flair.

The Sword of Damocles introduces Rocky.

I Can Make You a Man further expands Frank’s outrageous vision.

Hot Patootie explodes with pure rock-and-roll energy.

Act Two continues the musical feast.

Touch-a Touch-a Touch Me generates enormous laughter.

Once In A While introduces a surprising emotional note.

Eddie’s Teddy injects further chaos and excitement.

Rose Tint My World transforms the stage into a surreal theatrical fantasy.

Don’t Dream It – Be It delivers the show’s central philosophy.

Wild and Untamed Thing becomes a joyous celebration of liberation.

Transit Beam accelerates the story toward its climax.

I’m Going Home provides a surprisingly touching farewell.

Finally, Science Fiction Double Feature returns to bring the journey full circle.

The score remains every bit as rebellious, infectious and exhilarating as it was decades ago.

The Creative Team Behind the Magic

Productions of this scale do not happen by accident.

They are built by artists working tirelessly behind the scenes.

Director Steven Stead deserves immense credit for understanding exactly what Rocky Horror should be.

Bold.

Funny.

Provocative.

Fearless.

Joyful.

Costume designer Terrence Bray delivers a visual feast.

The costumes are magnificent.

Extravagant.

Playful.

Daring.

Beautifully crafted.

The fishnets, corsets, sequins and outrageous designs honour Rocky Horror’s legendary aesthetic while feeling fresh and alive.

Greg King’s set design creates an extraordinary playground for the performers.

The castle becomes a character in its own right.

A place where fantasy, horror and comedy collide.

Lighting designer Faheem Bardien paints the production with colour, atmosphere and dramatic impact.

Every cue enhances the storytelling.

Every transition deepens the mood.

David Classen’s sound design ensures that every lyric, joke and musical moment lands with crystal clarity.

Kevin Kraak’s musical supervision keeps the production’s heartbeat strong from beginning to end.

Meanwhile choreographers Duane Alexander and Naolin Quinzin infuse the show with movement, rhythm and infectious energy.

Their work is visible in every dance sequence and every moment of physical storytelling.

The audience may applaud the performers.

The theatre community understands that productions like this are collective achievements.

Every department matters.

Every artist contributes.

Every creative hand leaves fingerprints on the final masterpiece.

Why Rocky Horror Endures

Many productions fade with time.

Rocky Horror refuses.

More than half a century after its debut, it remains one of the most beloved cult musicals ever created.

The reason is simple.

It celebrates freedom.

Not political freedom.

Not social freedom.

Personal freedom.

The freedom to be strange.

The freedom to be different.

The freedom to be unapologetically yourself.

Long before such conversations became commonplace, Rocky Horror was encouraging audiences to embrace individuality.

Its message remains timeless because the human desire for acceptance is timeless.

Final Curtain

The Rocky Horror Show is not conventional theatre.

It is not polite theatre.

It is not safe theatre.

It is joyous theatre.

It is rebellious theatre.

It is theatre wearing fishnet stockings and high heels while laughing directly in the face of convention.

This production at the Pieter Toerien Theatre was a triumph.

Craig Urbani delivered a star-making performance as Frank-N-Furter.

Léa Blerk and Robert Everson anchored the production with warmth, sincerity and charm.

Schoeman Smit, Jasmine Minter, Anna Oliver, Micah Stojakovic and Zak Hendriks enriched every scene they entered.

Alessia Gironi, Anne Power, Gabriella Knight, Miguel De Sampaio, Sasha Duffy, Taya Pearson and Tjaart Van Der Walt helped create an ensemble worthy of celebration.

Steven Stead and his creative team delivered a production overflowing with imagination, craftsmanship and joy.

By the final curtain, one truth remained undeniable.

Rocky Horror is not merely a musical.

It is an experience.

A celebration.

A declaration.

A glorious invitation to embrace the strange, reject conformity and dance proudly to the rhythm of your own Time Warp.

And on this unforgettable evening at Montecasino, the invitation was impossible to refuse.

Congratulations Steven Stead and the whole team for a great show and a deserved standing ovation. 

📸 : SamSays 

Midnight In Parys

/ antakalipa

Midnight in Parys: A Meditation on Life, Death, Compassion and the Human Heart

There are evenings in the theatre that entertain. There are evenings that impress. And then there are evenings that stay with you long after the curtain call, following you home, lingering in your thoughts, demanding reflection and conversation.

Midnight in Parys, the latest play by South African theatrical giant Paul Slabolepszy, belongs firmly in that final category.

Presented at the intimate Studio Theatre of Pieter Toerien’s Montecasino Theatre complex and directed with precision and sensitivity by Bobby Heaney, this production is a triumph of writing, performance and humanity. Starring Bianca Amato and Paul Slabolepszy himself, Midnight in Parys is at once thoughtful, witty, heartbreaking and profoundly compassionate. It is a play that refuses easy answers while offering something perhaps even more valuable: understanding.

For those fortunate enough to have attended the opening performance, the experience felt less like watching a play and more like being invited into the private lives of two deeply complex individuals whose stories slowly unfold before us.

And what stories they are.

The Master at Work

Paul Slabolepszy occupies rare territory within South African theatre.

Over decades he has built a body of work distinguished not by spectacle or gimmickry but by his unwavering commitment to character. His greatest gift as a playwright has always been his ability to write people rather than archetypes.

His characters breathe.

They contradict themselves.

They make mistakes.

They carry wounds.

They reveal truths accidentally.

They hide behind humour.

They speak the language of real human beings.

In Midnight in Parys, Slabolepszy demonstrates once again why he stands among the most important playwrights South Africa has ever produced. The play’s dialogue is rich with wit, observation and emotional intelligence. Every revelation feels earned. Every conversation feels authentic.

The script trusts its audience.

Rather than overwhelming viewers with exposition, it allows relationships to develop organically. We spend time with the characters. We learn who they are. We begin to understand what motivates them. Then, just when we believe we have figured them out, new revelations emerge that reshape everything we thought we knew.

This is writing of the highest order.

Not because it is flashy.

Because it is honest.

“Thabiso” – A Personal Beginning

The evening began with a moment that immediately established a unique connection.

Early in the performance, the name “Thabiso” is mentioned and explored.

“It means joy.”

For me, that moment landed with unexpected force.

I am Thabiso.

To hear my own name spoken from the stage, and to hear its meaning acknowledged, created an instant bond with the work. It felt personal. It felt intimate.

I was overjoyed.

I was smiling before the story had even properly begun.

And from that moment forward I was completely invested.

Theatre possesses a unique ability to make audiences feel seen. Sometimes this happens through grand themes. Sometimes it happens through a single word.

That brief moment reminded me why live performance remains so powerful.

The stage reached out and shook hands with my own life.

I was hooked from the very beginning.

The Characters: Strangers Who Become Family

One of the production’s greatest achievements lies in its patient construction of character.

As audience members, we do not merely observe these individuals.

We come to know them.

The play grants us access to their fears, regrets, humour and vulnerabilities. Through carefully structured conversations and revelations, layers are peeled away until the audience finds itself emotionally invested in every decision and every confession.

The brilliance of the script lies in the fact that neither character exists simply to advance a plot.

Instead, the plot emerges from who they are.

Their histories matter.

Their choices matter.

Their emotional scars matter.

Their hopes matter.

As the evening progresses, the audience moves closer and closer to them until certain revelations provoke genuine gasps. Not because the twists are sensational, but because they carry emotional weight.

We care.

And because we care, the discoveries hit harder.

Exploring Euthanasia, Dignity and Moral Complexity

At its heart, Midnight in Parys grapples with profound questions.

Among the most significant is euthanasia and the difficult moral territory surrounding end-of-life decisions.

These are not simple issues.

Nor does the play pretend that they are.

Instead, Slabolepszy approaches the subject with remarkable empathy and intelligence. The script explores the tension between suffering and dignity, autonomy and responsibility, compassion and consequence.

It asks difficult questions.

Who gets to decide when suffering has become unbearable?

What does mercy truly mean?

Can helping someone die ever be an act of love?

Where do morality and compassion intersect?

The play offers no simplistic verdict.

Instead, it trusts audiences to wrestle with these questions themselves.

That trust is one of the work’s greatest strengths.

Self-Defence, Survival and Human Choice

The production also explores the concept of self-defence and the circumstances that push ordinary people toward extraordinary actions.

Again, Slabolepszy avoids easy judgement.

His characters are not symbols in an argument.

They are human beings confronting impossible situations.

The audience is invited to consider how individuals respond when placed under pressure and what choices become possible when survival is at stake.

The result is a work that feels deeply humane.

Rather than asking viewers to condemn or excuse, it asks them to understand.

Bianca Amato: A Performance of Extraordinary Depth

Having previously witnessed Bianca Amato in A Doll’s House, Part 2, I arrived with high expectations.

She exceeded them.

Amato delivers a performance of remarkable intelligence and emotional precision. Every line feels considered. Every silence carries meaning. Every gesture reveals character.

She possesses that rare ability to command attention without demanding it.

Her performance unfolds gradually, allowing emotional truths to emerge naturally rather than being forced upon the audience.

As revelations accumulate, she navigates the shifting emotional landscape with extraordinary confidence.

There is tremendous technical skill on display, but what audiences ultimately remember is the humanity.

The character feels real.

Completely real.

And that is perhaps the highest compliment one can offer an actor.

Paul Slabolepszy: The Playwright as Performer

Seeing Paul Slabolepszy perform his own work is a special experience.

The words carry an additional resonance because they originate from the very person speaking them.

Yet what makes his performance memorable is not the novelty of the playwright appearing on stage.

It is the quality of the acting itself.

Slabolepszy brings warmth, vulnerability, humour and emotional authenticity to the role. Decades of theatrical experience are evident in every moment.

His command of timing is masterful.

His understanding of silence is impeccable.

His ability to move between comedy and pathos feels effortless.

This was my first opportunity to watch him perform live.

It was an honour.

It was a privilege.

And it offered a powerful reminder that great playwrights often possess a profound understanding of performance because they understand people.

Bobby Heaney’s Direction

A script this rich requires direction that understands restraint.

Bobby Heaney provides exactly that.

His work never overshadows the material.

Instead, it elevates it.

The pacing allows tension to build naturally. Emotional moments are given room to breathe. Revelations land with impact because the production understands the value of patience.

The direction trusts both the actors and the audience.

In an age where many productions fear stillness, Heaney embraces it.

The result is a production that feels confident, mature and deeply engaging.

The Set: Intimacy as Strength

The Studio Theatre at Pieter Toerien proves the perfect home for this production.

The intimate environment creates a sense of closeness rarely achievable in larger venues.

There is nowhere to hide.

Not for the actors.

Not for the audience.

Every expression becomes visible.

Every shift in emotion becomes meaningful.

Every silence becomes palpable.

The set design complements this intimacy beautifully.

Rather than distracting from the story, it serves it. The environment feels lived in, believable and emotionally resonant.

The audience is not simply watching a location.

They are inhabiting it alongside the characters.

Lighting and Atmosphere

The lighting design deserves special praise.

Subtle and purposeful, it shapes mood without drawing attention to itself.

Changes in tone and emotional temperature are reflected through carefully considered lighting choices that guide the audience’s experience almost subconsciously.

The result is an atmosphere that feels immersive and emotionally textured.

Combined with the intimacy of the venue, the lighting helps create a world that feels simultaneously theatrical and deeply real.

A Play That Understands Humanity

Perhaps the greatest achievement of Midnight in Parys is its empathy.

The play understands people.

It understands loneliness.

It understands fear.

It understands regret.

It understands compassion.

Most importantly, it understands that human beings are rarely simple.

The work does not divide the world into heroes and villains.

Instead, it presents flawed individuals doing their best within circumstances that are often messy and painful.

There is healing in that perspective.

There is comfort in being reminded that complexity is part of being human.

The play feels.

The play listens.

The play understands.

And in understanding its characters, it understands its audience as well.

A Night to Remember

The opening performance of Midnight in Parys was more than an evening of theatre.

It was an encounter with great writing.

Great acting.

Great direction.

And great humanity.

It reminded me why Paul Slabolepszy remains one of South Africa’s theatrical immortals.

It confirmed Bianca Amato’s place among the country’s finest performers.

It showcased Bobby Heaney’s skill as a director of intelligence and restraint.

Most importantly, it demonstrated the enduring power of theatre to bring strangers together and allow them, for a few precious hours, to share in the emotional lives of others.

I attended the performance with SamSays, whose name fittingly appears in the credits, and together we witnessed something special.

Not merely a play.

An experience.

One of the finest days I have spent in a theatre.

A production that challenged, moved and inspired.

A production that left me thinking long after the final bow.

A production that reminded me exactly why we keep coming back to the theatre.

Because sometimes, in a darkened room, surrounded by strangers, we find pieces of ourselves reflected back from the stage.

And when that happens, theatre becomes something more than entertainment.

It becomes joy.

It becomes understanding.

It becomes healing.

It becomes unforgettable.

Congratulations Bobby Heaney for a great show and a deserved standing ovation.

📸 : SamSays 

Midnight In Parys

/ antakalipa

Midnight in Parys: A Meditation on Life, Death, Compassion and the Human Heart

There are evenings in the theatre that entertain. There are evenings that impress. And then there are evenings that stay with you long after the curtain call, following you home, lingering in your thoughts, demanding reflection and conversation.

Midnight in Parys, the latest play by South African theatrical giant Paul Slabolepszy, belongs firmly in that final category.

Presented at the intimate Studio Theatre of Pieter Toerien’s Montecasino Theatre complex and directed with precision and sensitivity by Bobby Heaney, this production is a triumph of writing, performance and humanity. Starring Bianca Amato and Paul Slabolepszy himself, Midnight in Parys is at once thoughtful, witty, heartbreaking and profoundly compassionate. It is a play that refuses easy answers while offering something perhaps even more valuable: understanding.

For those fortunate enough to have attended the opening performance, the experience felt less like watching a play and more like being invited into the private lives of two deeply complex individuals whose stories slowly unfold before us.

And what stories they are.

The Master at Work

Paul Slabolepszy occupies rare territory within South African theatre.

Over decades he has built a body of work distinguished not by spectacle or gimmickry but by his unwavering commitment to character. His greatest gift as a playwright has always been his ability to write people rather than archetypes.

His characters breathe.

They contradict themselves.

They make mistakes.

They carry wounds.

They reveal truths accidentally.

They hide behind humour.

They speak the language of real human beings.

In Midnight in Parys, Slabolepszy demonstrates once again why he stands among the most important playwrights South Africa has ever produced. The play’s dialogue is rich with wit, observation and emotional intelligence. Every revelation feels earned. Every conversation feels authentic.

The script trusts its audience.

Rather than overwhelming viewers with exposition, it allows relationships to develop organically. We spend time with the characters. We learn who they are. We begin to understand what motivates them. Then, just when we believe we have figured them out, new revelations emerge that reshape everything we thought we knew.

This is writing of the highest order.

Not because it is flashy.

Because it is honest.

“Thabiso” – A Personal Beginning

The evening began with a moment that immediately established a unique connection.

Early in the performance, the name “Thabiso” is mentioned and explored.

“It means joy.”

For me, that moment landed with unexpected force.

I am Thabiso.

To hear my own name spoken from the stage, and to hear its meaning acknowledged, created an instant bond with the work. It felt personal. It felt intimate.

I was overjoyed.

I was smiling before the story had even properly begun.

And from that moment forward I was completely invested.

Theatre possesses a unique ability to make audiences feel seen. Sometimes this happens through grand themes. Sometimes it happens through a single word.

That brief moment reminded me why live performance remains so powerful.

The stage reached out and shook hands with my own life.

I was hooked from the very beginning.

The Characters: Strangers Who Become Family

One of the production’s greatest achievements lies in its patient construction of character.

As audience members, we do not merely observe these individuals.

We come to know them.

The play grants us access to their fears, regrets, humour and vulnerabilities. Through carefully structured conversations and revelations, layers are peeled away until the audience finds itself emotionally invested in every decision and every confession.

The brilliance of the script lies in the fact that neither character exists simply to advance a plot.

Instead, the plot emerges from who they are.

Their histories matter.

Their choices matter.

Their emotional scars matter.

Their hopes matter.

As the evening progresses, the audience moves closer and closer to them until certain revelations provoke genuine gasps. Not because the twists are sensational, but because they carry emotional weight.

We care.

And because we care, the discoveries hit harder.

Exploring Euthanasia, Dignity and Moral Complexity

At its heart, Midnight in Parys grapples with profound questions.

Among the most significant is euthanasia and the difficult moral territory surrounding end-of-life decisions.

These are not simple issues.

Nor does the play pretend that they are.

Instead, Slabolepszy approaches the subject with remarkable empathy and intelligence. The script explores the tension between suffering and dignity, autonomy and responsibility, compassion and consequence.

It asks difficult questions.

Who gets to decide when suffering has become unbearable?

What does mercy truly mean?

Can helping someone die ever be an act of love?

Where do morality and compassion intersect?

The play offers no simplistic verdict.

Instead, it trusts audiences to wrestle with these questions themselves.

That trust is one of the work’s greatest strengths.

Self-Defence, Survival and Human Choice

The production also explores the concept of self-defence and the circumstances that push ordinary people toward extraordinary actions.

Again, Slabolepszy avoids easy judgement.

His characters are not symbols in an argument.

They are human beings confronting impossible situations.

The audience is invited to consider how individuals respond when placed under pressure and what choices become possible when survival is at stake.

The result is a work that feels deeply humane.

Rather than asking viewers to condemn or excuse, it asks them to understand.

Bianca Amato: A Performance of Extraordinary Depth

Having previously witnessed Bianca Amato in A Doll’s House, Part 2, I arrived with high expectations.

She exceeded them.

Amato delivers a performance of remarkable intelligence and emotional precision. Every line feels considered. Every silence carries meaning. Every gesture reveals character.

She possesses that rare ability to command attention without demanding it.

Her performance unfolds gradually, allowing emotional truths to emerge naturally rather than being forced upon the audience.

As revelations accumulate, she navigates the shifting emotional landscape with extraordinary confidence.

There is tremendous technical skill on display, but what audiences ultimately remember is the humanity.

The character feels real.

Completely real.

And that is perhaps the highest compliment one can offer an actor.

Paul Slabolepszy: The Playwright as Performer

Seeing Paul Slabolepszy perform his own work is a special experience.

The words carry an additional resonance because they originate from the very person speaking them.

Yet what makes his performance memorable is not the novelty of the playwright appearing on stage.

It is the quality of the acting itself.

Slabolepszy brings warmth, vulnerability, humour and emotional authenticity to the role. Decades of theatrical experience are evident in every moment.

His command of timing is masterful.

His understanding of silence is impeccable.

His ability to move between comedy and pathos feels effortless.

This was my first opportunity to watch him perform live.

It was an honour.

It was a privilege.

And it offered a powerful reminder that great playwrights often possess a profound understanding of performance because they understand people.

Bobby Heaney’s Direction

A script this rich requires direction that understands restraint.

Bobby Heaney provides exactly that.

His work never overshadows the material.

Instead, it elevates it.

The pacing allows tension to build naturally. Emotional moments are given room to breathe. Revelations land with impact because the production understands the value of patience.

The direction trusts both the actors and the audience.

In an age where many productions fear stillness, Heaney embraces it.

The result is a production that feels confident, mature and deeply engaging.

The Set: Intimacy as Strength

The Studio Theatre at Pieter Toerien proves the perfect home for this production.

The intimate environment creates a sense of closeness rarely achievable in larger venues.

There is nowhere to hide.

Not for the actors.

Not for the audience.

Every expression becomes visible.

Every shift in emotion becomes meaningful.

Every silence becomes palpable.

The set design complements this intimacy beautifully.

Rather than distracting from the story, it serves it. The environment feels lived in, believable and emotionally resonant.

The audience is not simply watching a location.

They are inhabiting it alongside the characters.

Lighting and Atmosphere

The lighting design deserves special praise.

Subtle and purposeful, it shapes mood without drawing attention to itself.

Changes in tone and emotional temperature are reflected through carefully considered lighting choices that guide the audience’s experience almost subconsciously.

The result is an atmosphere that feels immersive and emotionally textured.

Combined with the intimacy of the venue, the lighting helps create a world that feels simultaneously theatrical and deeply real.

A Play That Understands Humanity

Perhaps the greatest achievement of Midnight in Parys is its empathy.

The play understands people.

It understands loneliness.

It understands fear.

It understands regret.

It understands compassion.

Most importantly, it understands that human beings are rarely simple.

The work does not divide the world into heroes and villains.

Instead, it presents flawed individuals doing their best within circumstances that are often messy and painful.

There is healing in that perspective.

There is comfort in being reminded that complexity is part of being human.

The play feels.

The play listens.

The play understands.

And in understanding its characters, it understands its audience as well.

A Night to Remember

The opening performance of Midnight in Parys was more than an evening of theatre.

It was an encounter with great writing.

Great acting.

Great direction.

And great humanity.

It reminded me why Paul Slabolepszy remains one of South Africa’s theatrical immortals.

It confirmed Bianca Amato’s place among the country’s finest performers.

It showcased Bobby Heaney’s skill as a director of intelligence and restraint.

Most importantly, it demonstrated the enduring power of theatre to bring strangers together and allow them, for a few precious hours, to share in the emotional lives of others.

I attended the performance with SamSays, whose name fittingly appears in the credits, and together we witnessed something special.

Not merely a play.

An experience.

One of the finest days I have spent in a theatre.

A production that challenged, moved and inspired.

A production that left me thinking long after the final bow.

A production that reminded me exactly why we keep coming back to the theatre.

Because sometimes, in a darkened room, surrounded by strangers, we find pieces of ourselves reflected back from the stage.

And when that happens, theatre becomes something more than entertainment.

It becomes joy.

It becomes understanding.

It becomes healing.

It becomes unforgettable.

Congratulations Bobby Heaney for a great show and a deserved standing ovation.

📸 : SamSays 

GANGSTER III: The call of the void

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GANGSTER III: The call of the void

So intrusive, the call of the void. I am thinking crime, conditioned to think that’s the only way somebody like me can get ahead. I watched too much TV to know it never works out. You can never break bad even if you are Gustavo Fring because a master manipulator like Heisenberg is in the background, pulling strings detonating bombs! Even if you avoid explosions and ignite them verbally like Saul Goodman they ultimately result in life imprisonment because you are sneaky, dishonest, a co-conspirator, a shape-shifter, silver tongue devil, a scumbag criminal lawyer!

The call of the void, so intrusive, destructive. I am thinking crime but I have watched enough Scorsese to know it never works out, even if you’re Henry Hill who aspired to be a gangster all his life. Cadillac’s and double-breasted suits and you are never secured. Living a life of paranoia, death can come from anywhere, a volitile existence, your murderers come with a smile. Once Goodfellas and now you gotta rat on your friends, it’s bye-bye if you don’t – you’re gonna get whacked!

The call of the void, so intrusive but it never works out even if you are Anthony Soprano. Rose from a soldier to a Capo, to the boss! Living the dream life in a mansion with a pool with your childhood sweetheart Carmella and married with two wonderful children. The crown is heavy, it’s difficult to be number 1, you are a constant moving target, other gangsters want your crown, plagued by constant nightmares, you are a mess psychologically, trust issues and once in a while you have to shed blood to maintain the peace or you will get toppled. No room for weakness. You still die in front of your family in the end and the screen turns to black before the end of your favorite song.

The call of the void, so intrusive, I am thinking crime but that never works out even if you avoid the wire and still run the streets with your shotgun like Omar Little, the legendary cocksucker. Mr. Rob drug dealers, it’s all in the game. The tune of his whistle and everyone in the streets scatters like flees. Induces fear and is respected by the most hardened criminals. Rock solid reputation. Still got taken out by a kid, a nobody because he doesn’t fear him nor his reputation – the new ushers out the old.

The call of the void, maybe Marlow, took out Proposition Joe and won his battle with the Barksdales but lost his muscle to jail. When he came out, the world had moved on, the streets didn’t know who he was. Despite his ruthless disposition and taking out all his competition, he didn’t leave a lasting legacy, couldn’t build a self-sustaining reputation – he became another player in the game who was at the helm for a while but fell off.

Call of the void, so intrusive, I am thinking crime like the Godfather but I could never be like Vito Corleone. A reasonable man, practical, patient, fair but ruthless. A master of human nature, a strategist who plans a 100 moves ahead, an immortal who survived five shots. He knew “the black hand” was phony, he settled for less money, he is not a real mafia, he threatened Vito with the police, where’s the code of Omerta? He is taking chances. Vito played the fool to catch him off guard and took him out to begin his ascent to the top. Vito Andolini Corleone, suffered the death of his father, mother and eldest brother to the mafia, the Don. Escaped to America, made a life for himself, rose up in rank, avenged the death of his family by later killing the Don and became the boss of all bosses of the criminal underworld. He died an old man playing with his grandson in his tomato garden but also lost his eldest son in a hail of bullets.

Call of the void, so intrusive, I am thinking crime but that never works out even if you are Tony Montana and think the world is yours. The cocaine gets to your head and you think you are invincible! You kill your best friend Manolo and a rival, Sosa sends assassins and kills your sister Gina. On top of the world because of the cocaine but you die in a hail of bullets in the fountain pool of your mansion – Sosa did tell you not to cross him!

Call of the void, so intrusive, I am thinking crime. I need money, I need to start a family, time is in a hurry and I am not getting any younger.

Rise ’76: The Story of June 16th — A Theatre Experience That Refuses To Let You Look Away

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There are productions that entertain. There are productions that educate. And then there are productions like Rise ’76: The Story of June 16th, which reach beyond performance and become an act of collective mourning.

Currently staged at the Market Theatre, this devastating and deeply human production reconstructs the horrors of June 16, 1976 — the day school children marched against the forced implementation of Afrikaans as a medium of instruction under the apartheid government’s Bantu Education system. What begins as youthful resistance slowly descends into panic, violence and death. By the end, the audience is emotionally shattered.

Writer and director Tiisetso Mashifani wa Noni approaches the material with extraordinary care and urgency. The production understands that June 16 is not mythology. It is not a chapter in a textbook. It is trauma embedded into the DNA of South Africa. The play captures this with frightening intimacy.

The audience laughs early in the performance. There are moments of warmth, humour, innocence and youthful rebellion. The children dream. They tease one another. They speak with the fire and optimism of people who still believe change is possible. This is what makes the tragedy unbearable. The production deliberately allows the audience to fall in love with these young people before history crushes them.

Then the gunshots arrive.

And everything changes.

The sound design by Jannous Nkululeko Aukema is terrifying in its realism. Gunfire erupts through the theatre with shocking force. The screams are immediate. The panic spreads from stage to audience. In those moments, the production abandons theatrical comfort entirely. The audience does not merely observe violence — they feel trapped inside it.

Children are hunted.

Children are shot while running away.

Children as young as four years old become victims of a state that viewed Black education as a threat.

The production never sensationalises this brutality. Instead, it exposes the machinery of apartheid with brutal honesty. The police are not abstract villains here. They are agents of a violent system protecting oppression through bullets, intimidation and terror.

The cast delivers performances of astonishing discipline and emotional precision.

Alex Sono’s Bafana Buthelezi carries the emotional pulse of the production. There is vulnerability beneath the courage, and the performance beautifully captures the fear hidden inside youthful resistance.

Botlhale Mahlangu’s Alfie Ndlovu is deeply affecting, filled with spirit and innocence. The performance reminds the audience that the uprising was carried by ordinary children who simply wanted dignity.

Sbuja Dywili brings heartbreaking humanity to Melody Moloto, grounding the production emotionally and reminding audiences of the families destroyed by apartheid violence.

Zilungile Mbombo’s Sergeant Joseph “Razor” Tladi is chilling in authority and presence, while Ben Albertyn’s Constable Nicholaas De Villiers embodies the cold machinery of apartheid policing with frightening restraint.

Deon Lotz commands the stage as Lieutenant Colonel Theuns, portraying institutional power with unnerving realism, while Mfaneli Ntumbuka’s Kleynhans adds another layer to the system of intimidation and control surrounding the uprising.

What makes the ensemble exceptional is their ability to inhabit multiple characters seamlessly. The transformations happen in real time. Voices shift. Physicality changes. Energy transforms instantly. One moment a performer embodies humour and tenderness; the next, they become agents of terror or victims of unimaginable suffering. It is elite theatre craft.

The production moves with cinematic urgency, yet it never loses its theatrical soul.

Leopold Senekal’s set design is deceptively simple but emotionally loaded. The stage becomes classroom, township, protest route and battlefield through fluid transitions and carefully constructed spatial tension. The design never distracts from the performers; instead, it amplifies them. Every corner of the stage feels haunted by history.

Franky Steyn’s lighting design deserves enormous praise. Light becomes memory, fear and violence. Sudden shifts plunge scenes into chaos, while softer washes of light preserve fleeting moments of innocence before destruction arrives. During the protest sequences, the lighting traps the audience inside the confusion of the uprising itself. It becomes impossible to emotionally escape.

Noluthando “Texture” Lobese’s costume design roots the production firmly within the period while also preserving the humanity of the characters. The uniforms, civilian clothing and police attire become visual reminders of apartheid’s hierarchy and violence.

Yet perhaps the most devastating element of Rise ’76 is its connection to real people and real death.

No image from June 16 is more iconic than the photograph of Hector Pieterson — the dying thirteen-year-old boy carried by Mbuyisa Makhubo while Hector’s sister, Antoinette Sithole, runs beside them in anguish. The photograph, captured by photojournalist Sam Nzima, became one of the defining images of apartheid brutality and shocked the world.

The production understands the weight of this image.

It understands that Hector Pieterson was not merely a symbol. He was a child.

And it understands that even the man who carried him, Mbuyisa Makhubo, would eventually disappear into exile and tragedy, never fully escaping the trauma of that moment. His fate remains one of the painful unresolved stories of the uprising. Sam Nzima himself faced harassment and restrictions from the apartheid government after taking the photograph that exposed the regime’s cruelty to the world.

The play honours these histories without reducing them to museum pieces.

Instead, Rise ’76 asks urgent questions:

What happens when a government fears educated children?

What happens when language becomes a weapon?

What happens to parents forced to bury their children because those children demanded dignity?

These questions linger long after the final curtain.

That is the true achievement of this production. It does not simply teach history. It resurrects emotional memory.

The audience leaves emotionally exhausted, reflective and deeply moved.

At the Market Theatre — a venue historically intertwined with resistance art during apartheid — this production feels especially powerful. The theatre itself becomes part of the storytelling. Every silence inside the auditorium carries weight. Every gasp from the audience becomes part of the performance.

Rise ’76: The Story of June 16th is not easy theatre.

It is painful theatre.

Necessary theatre.

South African theatre at its absolute best.

This is the kind of production that reminds audiences why live performance matters. No film camera can replicate the tension of sharing physical space with performers recreating one of the darkest days in South African history. No screen can duplicate the collective silence of an audience processing grief together in real time.

The performers do not simply act.

They carry memory.

And they do so magnificently.

Congratulations Tiisetso Mashifane wa Noni and the whole team for a great show and a deserved standing ovation.

Book your tickets here

https://www.webtickets.co.za/v2/client.aspx?item_id=1463936522&promoterid=1595622209

Sweeney Todd

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Sweeney Todd

At the Centurion Teater for the murderous, bloody Sweeney Todd. A dark twisted, methodical, sadistic, blood spraying, cannibalistic musical masterpiece by Scenario Productions. The first couple of rows and splashing zones, people are dying, blood will be spilled, put on your plastic body suit provided by the theatre. A lot of people perished, one after another, music in the background, singing dialogue, spotlight on that dreaded seat, a barber in the guise of providing a service slits your throat. Nonchalance, a pleasure to dispose of you.

Sweeney Todd is a barber in Victorian London who murders his customers with a straight razor. He works above Mrs. Lovett’s pie shop, and together they dispose of the bodies by baking them into meat pies sold to unsuspecting customers. His motive is often revenge — usually against a corrupt judge or official who wronged him and destroyed his family. The lighting dark and spooky. It was raining in real life, the theatre was wet, it enhanced the experience, what a day for theatre!

Music Director Luigia Casaleggio held the show, the conductor, her presence was felt.

The performers were amazing, the choruses, the show had a opera influence. They were singing dialogue, dancing and simultaneously acting. The costumes creative and scary. In and out, the performers walked in and out the auditorium, creating a sense of unpredictability. No one knew what to expect, it was a hell of a ride!

The performers:

Brett Kruger – Sweeney Todd
Ashleigh Hilton – Mrs. Lovett
Kyle Cronje – Anthony
Mbali Hlomela – Johanna
Ntsikeng Matooane – Beggar Woman
Tiaane Kirsten-Lubbe – Adolfo Pirelli
Erish Jordaan – Tobias Ragg
Christian Martinez – Judge Turpin
Wilf Mahne – Beadle Bamford

A truly wonderful show with a lot of imagination, enthusiasm and creativity.

Congratulations Tiaan Kirsten-Lubbe and Lian Sachse for a great show and a deserved standing ovation.

📸: SamSays

Snowball

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Snowball

Buffet had Kay and I have Sam, sure I am not Buffet but boy am I lucky! Always dreamed of a Kay Graham when I was reading through the pages of “Snowball”. Kay was great, she was powerful, she had influence and everybody loved her – Buffet was impressionable, eager, bright and destined for greatness. His teachings are right, thank God I idolized him.

Operate with a margin of safety,
have an inner scorecard,
stay within your circle of competence,
read books – any type of books,
boring is good,

you’ll never be rich if you’re normal
and always think long-term.

I am not exactly a millionaire but he was not one till 32. To my credit, I am surrounded by millionaires, I just have to put two and two together and stay on that wavelength and then I’ll get my first million. He had Benjamin Graham, that speeds things up. I am not Buffet, he was good with numbers, rational and an MBA graduate. I was horrible at maths, I lost a lot of money on Forex (pure speculation) and a University dropout. Still, facts are facts, Berkshire Hathaway was a mistake, he was emotional, he screwed the other guy because the other guy was trying to screw him, leading to a bad business decision. Berkshire was still a fading and failing textile business, he got played. Lemons to lemonade, he stripped Berkshire of its assets and kept it, altering its business model and practice.

Buffet had Kay and I have Sam, even the names roll easy on the tongue, I am blessed. Sam introduced me to high society and the best people in the world. I dreamed and fantasized about this when I was reading through the pages of Snowball. I am not Buffet, he had a great wife, two wonderful children and an established home. Yes, they stayed at his parents for a while but they eventually moved out. I just have “antakalipa”. There’s still a lot I have to get right, I am well behind. My Snowball is accumulating speed and mass.

Buffet had Kay and I have Sam, I love Sam like how Buffet loved Kay. I dreamed of this when I was paging through the pages of Snowball. Taught me “with great power comes great responsibility” a simple one, Ben Parker, a quote you take for granted when you are Peter Parker and one you never forget as “Spider-Man”!

As you turn 30, you lose confidence in yourself and ideas. The world even pushes you to the side, your spirit gets sucked out of your body, you become the labels society assigns, you become the accumulation of your past years. I worked hard to be the person that I wanted. I worked hard to be an individual. I chose my path, I walked alone. I never wanted to fit in a construct. I want my fate in my hands. I chose “antakalipa” to be what defines me. I will serve millions of people around the world, it’s my destiny. I’ve been following the teachings of Buffet since my 20’s and now my Snowball is a rolling boulder, gaining traction and momentum, becoming bigger in the process. It took a while, I am a value investor. There will come a time when I’ll be unstoppable. This has always been the plan.

Buffet had Kay and I have Sam, I dreamed about her as I was paging through Snowball. Warren Buffet by far, the biggest influence of my life.

Teacher Gertrude

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Teacher Gertrude

When I was in school, I used to collect “full attendance” certificates. I came to school every day even on the day’s when I wasn’t writing. Marking the register was always priority. Exam season, we would be like 4 or 5 in the classroom, I didn’t care, it was cool. We didn’t have classwork, the teachers were liberated and you basically got a free pass to go anywhere. In the 3rd grade my teacher got pregnant and was replaced by a substitute teacher “Miss Gertrude”. Teacher Gertrude didn’t like me at all. She thought I was ‘stout’, mischievous and loud. I did all my classwork and homework but that was not enough. She used to weaponize the prize giving ceremony against me. “Do this or you won’t go to prize giving. Shut up or you won’t go to prize giving”, it got stale and lost all potency. Her threats stopped being credible, they weren’t based on anything real so they didn’t change my conduct. She would scold and shout at me. Prize giving season came and legible students got invitations, true to her word, I didn’t get an invitation, I was not going to prize giving. It didn’t hit me too hard because I knew I’d get a “full attendance” certificate. I’d been perfect all year, no missed day. Teacher Gertrude took that away from me too. She said I’d been absent for 1 day, I pleaded my case and advised her she was mistaken but she said the register doesn’t lie. I was fully present under Mrs. Bosman for three terms and I happen to miss one day under Miss Gertrude? How nice. A stain on my record. She didn’t mark me on the register. I was fuming. The first time I had ever felt injustice. That year I attended every day of school for nothing! No certificate, no recognition, just nothing! There were days when I could have missed school but I didn’t because I wanted that certificate. I went to school every day only for the substitute teacher to void my year. Teacher Gertrude took away my full attendance certificate! There was no ways of telling too because you only got that certificate on the last day of the school year. I was genuinely thunderstruck when I saw that 1 day absent on my report card. Mrs. Bosman why did you have to get pregnant and leave me with Teacher Gertrude? Everything was great, you introduced me to poetry but then you were pregnant and everything changed! Teacher Gertrude was the first person to teach me human nature. You can take prize giving away from me but don’t deny me of my full attendance certificate. Denying me of full attendance is diabolical because it’s blatant, you see me every day, it’s a lie, it’s unprofessional. If it weren’t for poetry, I never would have gotten anything that year. You didn’t win Teacher Gertrude, poetry exonerated me.

I was always disappointed with Teacher Gertrude but I forgive you. I have always been a bit of a perfectionist, Mr. Hyperacheiver, only now I see that it can be used against me just like how Teacher Gertrude once did.

When I was class captain, I strived to do things the right way. My numbers were always perfect and I made sure teachers signed the register after every period. I was exemplary, the administration side of the office loved me. I still went to school every day and I never cheated anybody out of a “full attendance” because I know how it feels. You didn’t win Teacher Gertrude.

That’s Entertainment

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That’s Entertainment

Folie a deux is actually a masterpiece. It’s all in the name, a delusion shared by two people. Arthur Flecks life is a mess, he knows he messed up, he knows he is going away for a long time. He disassociates, he doesn’t live in the real world anymore. He is cooped up in his own world, he is disillusioned with the real world. No one treats him like a human being in the real world. He finds an escape in a girl who idolize’s “Joker”. His shadow finds an outlet and expresses itself. “Joker” manifests himself in the real world, he finds a stage and for the first time in a while, Arthur feels alive again. His “Joker” persona makes him feel alive and it makes sense too, when he is Arthur, he is dark and disillusioned with life but as “Joker”, he has on a colorful costume and make-up. “Joker” is who he wishes he can be but he doesn’t acknowledge that he is “Joker”, it’s all an act for him – entertainment. He doesn’t see and understand “Jokers” darkness, this makes him a stranger to himself. For him being “Joker” is an escape, he is stuck in a rut, he is depressed, he still hates himself because that doesn’t go away and “Joker” makes him daydream about life. When he puts on his costume and make-up, he can put on a show, the world is a stage, he can do anything, he can be anyone but that’s a delusion because we still live in a real world and he is trialed for murdering 5 people, 1 on live TV and 6 if you add his mother. When he fires his lawyer and defends himself as “Joker”, he doesn’t see the gravity of the situation, he puts on a show, the world is a stage, he is so delusional. Who could blame him? His love interest perpetuates and enhances this delusion, she enables Arthur, she gives him an escape, an avenue for “Joker” to express himself, she also dons her costume and make-up so she too can be “Joker”. Arthur thinks this girl is there for him but she is only there for “Joker”. When Arthur denounces “Joker”, the delusion stops and she goes away. She was never real. Arthur denies his shadow and it ends up murdering him because he can’t see it. It’s a delusion of two, Folie a deux but this is also a sequel.

The biggest criticism of the movie is that it’s a musical but that’s entertainment. It’s a creative decision and it’s still a psychological thriller. How else are you going to depict Arthur’s delusion and state of mind. He is literally locked-up, he is disillusioned with the world and it wants to kill him. He can only daydream about a better existence. A musical shows us his frame of mind. “Critically acclaimed” is usually jargon for realistic and accurate – the first movie was that in abundance. It chronicled Arthur’s life in a way that was believable and his dissent to hell made sense observing his character arc. The sequel explores his state of mind, his shadow is not something that is hidden anymore, it’s in the open and Arthur gives it a platform. The shadow is not logical, that’s why a musical is perfect. Musicals have illogical time frames and they are delusional in nature because they don’t happen in real life. Folie a deux = delusion shared by two people, it’s also a sequel (2) and Arthur is murdered by his shadow (his second self). This was clearly thought out, if this is not genius, I don’t know what is. Maybe the sequel was a money grab, you could certainly make a point and say it didn’t warrant one but that’s entertainment, the world demanded it! I do understand the backlash because I was initially one of the guys who pushed back. I didn’t understand, I needed to suspend my judgment and finish the damn movie but I was scared they would tarnish the legacy of the first movie and they didn’t. This is definitely a polarizing movie but as a student of Jung, I will defend this sequel to my last breath.

The box office and awards are not always everything, the product must have soul and integrity. It cannot pander to widespread perceptions about what it should be. The vision is the vision. The Director is also the writer and producer, he understands the source material better than anyone, he created it. It’s literally his story-world, to think it could have been done better is arrogant. Sometimes the media catches on and the audience loves it garnering you acclaim, awards and fortune and sometimes its a miss. Win or lose, the product still has to have soul and integrity. The story continues on Folie a deux and it is told in the best possible way. If you don’t see it, you don’t understand the premise of the movie. This was always shadow work that’s why Joker has mass appeal.

Behind the Crimson Door

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Behind the Crimson Door: A World of Illusion, Fear, and Becoming

There is something unmistakably electric about stepping into The Cirk. It is not merely a venue; it is a threshold. The moment you cross into its space, the ordinary dissolves and something heightened, almost mythic, takes its place. Time loosens. Reality softens. You are invited—no, compelled—into a world where the human body defies its own limits and imagination takes physical form. Watching Gert-Johan Coetzee’s Behind the Crimson Door in this environment feels not just appropriate, but essential. The Cirk is a place where impossibility becomes language, and this production speaks it fluently.

From the outset, the show establishes itself as an immersive spectacle. Aerialists carve shapes into the air with impossible grace. Acrobats suspend disbelief as effortlessly as they suspend themselves mid-flight. Bodies twist, stretch, and split against gravity’s expectations, forming a kinetic poetry that is as precise as it is breathtaking. Dance blends seamlessly with vocal performance, while fire punctuates the stage with both danger and allure. Every movement is intentional, every transition choreographed into a flowing tapestry of motion. It is not simply performance—it is total theatre.

Sound plays an equally commanding role. It does not merely accompany the action; it envelops it. The audience is drawn inward, cocooned within a sonic landscape that deepens the sense of immersion. Once inside, there is no outside. The world of Behind the Crimson Door becomes complete, sealed, and self-sustaining. You are not watching a story—you are inhabiting it.

Visually, the production dazzles. The costuming, designed by Gert-Johan Coetzee himself, is nothing short of extraordinary. Each piece feels alive with intention, evoking the opulence and theatricality of Moulin Rouge while maintaining a distinct identity. Fabrics shimmer, silhouettes exaggerate, and textures provoke the imagination. The costumes do not simply adorn the performers; they transform them into embodiments of the world’s themes—desire, fear, seduction, and transformation.

At its narrative core is Charlotte, a small-town dreamer whose ambitions stretch far beyond the boundaries of her upbringing. Drawn toward the promise of the Big City, she steps into a world that dazzles and overwhelms in equal measure. Yet what unfolds is not a straightforward tale of ambition fulfilled or broken. Instead, the city becomes a psychological landscape—a projection of Charlotte’s inner world. Its lights are her desires. Its shadows are her fears. Its excesses mirror her anxieties about losing herself within it.

The genius of the production lies in this duality. The Big City is both real and imagined, seductive and threatening. It pulses with life, yet feels unstable, constantly shifting in response to Charlotte’s perception. This surreal quality transforms the narrative into something more introspective. It is not just about a journey outward, but a confrontation inward.

Guiding us through this labyrinth is Violette, the narrator and former seamstress who has witnessed the unfolding drama. Her presence anchors the story, offering both distance and intimacy. Through her, the narrative gains texture—a sense of memory, of reflection, of quiet understanding. She introduces the recurring motif of doors, each one symbolic of choice. These doors are not merely physical objects but metaphors for the paths we take, the risks we embrace, and the fears we either confront or avoid.

As Charlotte moves through these symbolic thresholds, the production deepens its philosophical resonance. The tension builds not from external danger alone, but from the internal struggle between courage and fear. And when the revelation finally arrives, it lands with quiet power: the fear was never in the world itself. It existed within the dreamer. In this moment, Behind the Crimson Door transcends spectacle and becomes something profoundly human.

The performances themselves are nothing short of exceptional. Danica Bezuidenhout brings a vulnerability and strength to Charlotte that grounds the fantastical elements of the story. Her portrayal captures the delicate balance between wonder and apprehension, making her journey deeply relatable. Cheree Simpson, Claudia Moruzzi, Phillip Kleynhans, Carmen Jooste, Mohamed Ambaram, Zenzele Letsoela, and Kimona Moodley each contribute with remarkable skill and presence. Whether suspended high above the stage or commanding attention on the ground, they embody the physical and emotional demands of the production with unwavering commitment. Their work is not only technically impressive but deeply expressive, turning every movement into storytelling.

Direction by Joanna Pawelczyk ensures that all these elements—performance, design, sound, and narrative—coalesce into a unified vision. Her guidance is evident in the seamless transitions, the clarity of the storytelling, and the balance between spectacle and substance. Under her direction, the production never loses its emotional core, even at its most visually overwhelming.

Ultimately, Behind the Crimson Door is an experience that lingers. It reminds us of the power of imagination—not only to create beauty, but to shape our fears. It challenges us to consider the doors we choose to open, and the ones we leave closed. And in doing so, it reveals something quietly profound: that the most formidable obstacles we face are often the ones we construct within ourselves.

At The Cirk, where the impossible becomes tangible, this message resonates all the more deeply. The performers defy gravity, but the story invites us to defy something even more difficult—the limitations of our own perception. And for a moment, suspended between air and insight, we believe we can.