Delve into the deliciously fluid world of circus. The Night Circus is a moving performance across three iconic Footscray sites.
Watch aerial performers, encounter a power house troupe of aged, idiosyncratic circus women and watch a factory site come to life with a choir evoking ghosts of the past.
This special performance includes an adults pop-up circus workshop, so once you’ve watched the show, you can try it for yourself.
Lady Sherlock Holmes, Nazis and cabaret. #WitScandal
It’s London, 1939. Tensions are building as war seems imminent. Lady Sherlock Holmes and Dr Jean Watson are engaged by Diana, Lady Mosley to track down Irene Adler in Berlin and retrieve sensitive information. But all is not as it seems.
Join us in ‘der Kabarett’ as we bring you all the action and intrigue of Sherlock Holmes, with the seduction and wonder of an underground Berlin cabaret.
Presented as part of Due West Festival
25 August to 9 September; Preview 24 August
Across our opening weekend, choose to stay after the show and become part of our underground Kabarett. With all the feel of a 1930s Berlin Kabarett, you know it’ll be a night to remember.
“I’m tired. But I’ve been lucky,” Carmichael says. “Lifelines have a habit of appearing. Crises tend to give rise to new life. Remember Dionysus.”
Browning’s fiction comes with the warning that any encounter with her, even a brief one, might carry the risk of deeper involvement.
You had me at ‘risk of deeper involvement’ and ‘inappropriate intimacies’…
Off to start reading The Gift now.
Really interesting, persuasive article tracing the trajectory of Cooper-as-the-audience throughout the series so far.
1990s Cooper was an active force in his own story. He helped us navigate his surroundings, and see them with humor and wonder. He claimed, perhaps wrongly, but still convincingly, that there was order somewhere in the chaos. It’s natural for us to want to return to a mode where he can actively participate in his own story, where he’s helping solve its mysteries, instead of acting as its biggest conundrum. But even with his humanity lost and his agency gone, he still represents us onscreen. Even when he’s free-floating through a haze of glass boxes and stop-motion nightmares, we’re still with him. We’re still all Agent Cooper, navigating the mystery, and waiting to see where this is all going.
Like that young, horny dummy hired to watch a giant contraption of glass and steel without asking what it’s for, I am content to watch that glass box and see what appears. Unlike him, I get to stay safe on the other side of the glass… but Lynch is one of the few directors who can make me feel like I’m not. Not safe, and not on the other side of the glass.
I would listen to Angelo Badalamenti’s Twin Peaks soundtrack over and over again on my Walkman. I would listen to the tape of Agent Dale Cooper giving wistful notes into his handheld recorder for his secretary Diane to transcribe and fall asleep to his love of pine trees, coffee, and cherry pie laced with observations and clues about the murder. I would play the sheet music to Laura Palmer’s Theme on the piano every morning before school as a dirge for my day. I would pore over the October 1990 issue of Sassy which featured a fashion spread directly inspired by the show and dig through storage boxes of my mother’s clothes from the sixties and pull out her woollen pleated plaid college skirts and pair them with combat boots and get pushed up the school steps from behind and get called a dyke for wearing something other than pegged jeans and Hard Rock café t-shirts. I would read The Diary of Laura Palmer alone in the bathtub and learn about pleasure and pain.
This is a beautiful read. Twin Peaks was similarly important to me as a teenager, however, I’m not sure I could write about (or even know about) why that was the case as insightfully as this author.
I do remember that I used to leave the Twin Peaks soundtrack playing on repeat on my CD-player in my room while I was at class. It created some kind of safe space for me I think … knowing that that existed – that privacy, that atmosphere where strangeness and melancholy and dreaminess were allowed because they were unwitnessed. Perhaps I felt like I could leave those aspects of myself in that room during the day to concentrate on being what I needed to be, out-and-about in public at school… I’m not sure. It was comforting, that’s all I really know for sure.