Due to the nature of the review and the contents of the
play, this is the second review, undertaken on Saturday 11th. The first review
can be read here:
Australia Day - 6 out of 10
Therry Theatre
TICKETS: Australia
Day Tickets
Jonathan Biggins’ Australia Day unfolds in a fictional town.
While the original version is set in New South Wales, Biggins allows
productions the creative licence to adapt geographical references. Therry
Theatre has embraced this, relocating the story to Makaratta—presumably
somewhere near Dry Creek and the Bunnings off the Northern Expressway. The
production also nods to several South Australian towns, including Murray
Bridge, Mount Barker, Strathalbyn, Port Pirie, Mount Gambier, and Cobdogla. These
changes initially felt jarring, and the cast seemed to struggle integrating
these references naturally, with some lines landing like punchlines rather than
organic dialogue.
The other elephant in the room: Australia Day is
unapologetically offensive, and staging it in 2026—set in 2015, written in
2012—inevitably raises questions of relevance and cultural sensitivity. While
the audience delivered the
laughter this satirical comedy is looking for, some of the once relevant gags
feel dated. A reference to Jay Weatherill, for example, prompted brief confusion,
recalling his era. Throughout, the play forces the audience to question why they laughed, and
other moments where the laughter is replaced with uncomfortable ooh’s that grew
in volume as a particular beat played out its course.
Director Jude Hines faced the arduous task of staging such a
controversial work, aware that audiences would question not only what is said
but how it lands in the current climate. Hines succeeds in making the audience
sit within discomfort and consider where their own moral boundaries lie. The
humour often feels wrong to laugh at, and that unease is precisely the point.
At times, the rhythm and delivery of the dialogue evoke Billy Birmingham’s
Australiana, a spoken-word comedy recorded in 1983.
Stephen Bills, as Mayor Brian Harrigan, sets the tone from
his first line— “Shit a brick!”—as he grumbles about the cold weather,
announcing this will not be a politically correct performance. Harrigan’s
ambition for a federal seat drives much of the plot, revealing the self-serving
political undercurrent beneath his local leadership. Bills delivers a
controlled performance, carefully calculated so the beat lands with the
audience. His rapport with his castmates ensure the pacing sits exactly where
the audience needs it.
Stepping into the role just three weeks before opening, Adam
Schulz stars as Robert Wilson. Despite the late start, he performs at the same
level as his fellow cast, quickly becoming the production’s least offensive
character. His loyalty to Harrigan forms a central tension that culminates in
Act Two, where a storm both literal and metaphorical strikes. Schulz commits
fully, delivering a soaked and weary Wilson who offers brief respite from the
play’s relentless political satire.
Moments of redemption in the story often emerge through
Helen McInnes, the local Greens councillor played by Michele Kelsey. McInnes
challenges nearly every offensive remark coming from her peers. Through her
dialogue, we learn of her son with special needs, whom she includes in the
Australia Day festivities for a sense of belonging—an element that drives the
climactic conflict at the end of Act One. Kelsey’s confrontation with Wally
could push further emotionally, but she truly shines in Act Two during McInnes’
sharp turn to blackmail Brian with assertive precision.
The most offensive character is Wally Stewart, boldly
portrayed by Steve Kidd. Wally has no regard for political correctness; Kidd
delivers every crude, abrasive line with conviction, covering taboo topics such
as race, disability, nationalism, and social change without a flicker of
hesitation. Opposite Kelsey’s McInnes, he becomes the antagonist of Act One’s
major conflict. At that point, Wally seems to lose audience sympathy
entirely—until we learn about his motivations, returning a slither of humanity
in his direction. Kidd’s layered performance punches through Act One but
recedes somewhat in Act Two, where his brief apology scene offers a quieter
moment of humility.
Kristina Kidd brings shade to Maree Bucknell, the local CWA
president. Initially presented as the most restrained of the group, providing a
controlled voice of reason throughout Act One. Bucknell soon exposes the arguments for justification in
non-indigenous people performing indigenous works when indigenous people aren’t
available to do so, juxtaposing older generational reasoning against
progressive ideals. Kidd provides
essential balance among the ensemble, functioning as both comic relief and
reminder of the work’s deeper social unrest.
Chester Lee, played by Ollie Xu, acts as the production’s
conscience and comic relief. As an Australian-born Vietnamese teacher and the
newest member of the committee, Chester often breaks through the heavier satire
with grounded humour and perspective. Xu’s delivery feels natural and
engaging—his small comic moments, like requesting a lift despite living in the
opposite direction, offer genuine lightness. In the closing moments, Chester’s
reflection on how children see one another—bigger, smaller, faster, slower—and
only later learn to form divisions, provides the play’s emotional resolution
and clarity.
Scene and costume changes are punctuated with humorous audio
recordings, an inventive touch that replaced traditional scene-change music.
Minor sound issues were promptly managed by operator Sean Smith. The pre-show,
interval, and post-show music was suitably Australian, while the ‘local school
band’ tracks hilariously matched the play’s offensiveness and irreverence.
Biggins’ script offends, and through that offence, it asks
audiences to measure their own moral standards. To be offended is to recognise
ethics and empathy; it is to question your own alignment with what’s presented
onstage. Therry Theatre’s cast accepted and met the challenges of the script courageously,
portraying characters that are difficult, complex, and often repugnant, without
flinching.
In programming Australia Day as part of its 2026 season,
Therry Theatre has taken a deliberate risk—but one that provokes precisely the
kind of thought this play was written to inspire.
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