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I can’t list everyone who deserves notice, but each of the singers – Douglas Kelly, Teresa Ingrilli, Matan Franco, Syrah Torii, Eamon Dooley, Michael Dimovski, Leah Phillips, Amanda Windred, Nicholas Beecher and Alastair Cooper-Golec – had really fine moments; most also had a couple of rough ones. The chorus was a fraction under-powered in comparison.

One important warning: this production is definitely not one for children.
Reviewed by Barney Zwartz

CABARET
Yiddish Divas: Into the Red Tent ★★★½
Kadimah Yiddish Theatre, until March 26

In synagogues, women have traditionally been separated from men – and most of the liturgical action – by a partition (often a curtain) called a mechitzah. The cabaret Yiddish Divas: Into the Red Tent subverts this practice before the performance begins, inviting male-identifying audience members to sit at the back, while women are encouraged to step through a gauzy red curtain towards the stage, which channels boudoir-ish, Weimar-era energy with red fabrics, Edison lightbulbs and sensuously lolling performers awaiting their cues.

The seating is a suggestion rather than a rule, but, combined with Harry Gill’s clever set design and the title of the show – a nod to Anita Diamant’s 1997 novel, which reimagines the story of Dinah from the bible – it signals what is to come: a vibrant, warm ensemble performance that centres women’s storytelling, experiences and art in Yiddish (with English surtitles).

The 60-minute show is divided into six segments – Bereyshis (In the Beginning), Blut (Blood), Vakkhanalie (Bacchanalia), Geburt (Birth), Bgide (Betrayal) and Farbindung (Bonding) – that evoke both the stages of a woman’s life and the arc of Jewish mythology and history. Each segment features thematically linked songs and poems, ranging from Yiddish classics to translated mid-century hits (Eddie Cooley and Otis Blackwell’s Fever becomes Der Yidisher Fiber), to original compositions (including two poems by Melbourne Yiddishist Hinde Ena Burstin, with music by Tomi Kalinski).

This is the third instalment of Yiddish Divas, and it’s a more polished production than the 2018 and 2019 iterations, with assured performances from all the actors, who range in age from their early 20s to mid-70s. Deidre Rubenstein, who recently excelled as Roberta in MTC’s Admissions, brings gravitas and sly humour to her gravelly rendition of Neyn, Keyn Kharotez Nito (Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien), while Joshua Reuben – the sole male performer – infuses Shayn vi di levone (As beautiful as the moon), a classic ode to feminine charms, with confusion, longing and bewilderment. Freydi Mrocki’s expression – honed thanks to decades as a klezmer singer – is supple and emotive.

This show is a babushka doll of sorts, containing references within references – to biblical matriarchs, the Holocaust, Yiddish theatre, popular culture and politics. This creates a sense of richness, but also moments of disjointedness. Some of the famous quotes that precede each of the segments felt cliched (Eleanor Roosevelt) or tonally off (Dr Seuss). But the performers’ chemistry and charm bubbles along through the weaker moments, sustaining the momentum and generating a sense of intimacy and playfulness with the audience.

The final song, Ale Brider (We Are All Brothers), is a spirited Bundist anthem that has been popular with Jewish activists for over a century. At the Kadimah Theatre, the Yiddish divas’ rendition emphasised the importance of unity between all brothers, all sisters and all people – transcending gender and difference – to defeat those who would seek to oppress us. Just days after neo-Nazis incited violence on the steps of Parliament House, I was moved anew by this song I’ve heard so many times. It’s worth going to hear it for the first (or thousandth) time in this city where Yiddish culture flourishes, despite – or perhaps because of – its many brushes with fascism.
Reviewed by Elissa Goldstein

COMEDY FESTIVAL
The Gala
Palais Theatre, March 22

“There are 2900 people here. To put it in context, 38 came to my 21st,” uttered the gloriously awkward Luke McGregor, as he hosted his first Melbourne International Comedy Festival Gala. “I’m very nervous.”

McGregor’s rickety charm set the scene nicely for 28 comedians to take the stage for four minutes each, a very short time to have to win over audiences and raise money to end the injustice of poverty. The majority succeeded, half a dozen excelled, a couple struggled to land a knock-out punch.

Lizzy Hoo kicked things off smoothly with a “drive-by” on Anh Do then Blake Freeman had us howling like drains at his face tattoo bit; he remains the comedian most likely to follow in Hughesy’s footsteps if he gets a fresh hour together.

Another newbie, Scout Boxall, did well with her takedown of polyamory: “I can’t wait to be your second priority.”

Thematically, the cost of living, raising kids, vaping and identifying as non-binary all came up as UK comic titans Josie Long and Mark Watson spoke about their child-rearing woes and the awkward moment Watson’s son Googled “Mark Watson net worth.” This led to a pocket-money renegotiation.

The original voices of Luke Heggie and Sam Campbell continued their respective ascendance, the former with a scathing, burn-the-roof-of-your-mouth anecdote on a fast-food delivery experience, the latter describing all the depressed commuters zipping through traffic each day: “I’m scootin’, but I’m not happy.” Campbell’s face is in permanent state of gnarled bliss, the same could be said of the crowd 30 seconds into his riotous performance.

Everyone stayed until the end, much to McGregor’s delight.

Sammy J is another to never put a foot wrong on stage, this time singing a wonderfully nostalgic song about the ’90s that included a sneering line about that dreaded paper clip that always wanted to “help” you write a letter. I heard a few punters singing the chorus “And everyone was cool with that” on their way out into the St Kilda night.

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Jason Leong detonated a “do your own research” punchline, which gained him a well-deserved applause break, Geraldine Hickey slayed ’em in the aisles with acerbic country vernacular (“Capitalist pig dog!“), David Quirk’s NT News gear was as snappy as a croc’s mouth, Michael Hing’s satirical homicidal suggestions were both daring and brilliant and Lloyd Langford let the good times lol with his booming Welsh accent declaring Australia as “Satan’s petting zoo.”

Everyone stayed until the end, much to McGregor’s delight, seeing as he’d earlier read out the entirety of his wedding vows: “Please don’t leave me.”
Reviewed by Mikey Cahill

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