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Queens and Wannabes Presented by Queensland College of Dance at Queensland Multicultural Centre Director: Tim Hill Musical Director: Jacqui Devereux Choreographer: Tess Hill Assistant Choreographer: Lauren Bensted There is a reason musical theatre keeps returning to high school. It is already theatrical. Adolescence is rich territory for reinvention, insecurity, longing, rebellion, humiliation, and self-discovery. With Queens and Wannabes, Queensland College of Dance stepped straight into that chaos, opening the locker on some of musical theatre’s funniest, fiercest, and most vulnerable characters. Created by Tim Hill and Jacqui Devereux, the showcase moved through the four years of high school. I thought this was such a clever framework, especially for a cohort made up mostly of teenagers themselves. With songs from the likes of Heathers, Mean Girls, Spring Awakening, Fame, Dear Evan Hansen, Grease, The Prom and many more, the students were given a wide playground of characters to step into. With a large cohort of 36 students, the whole show had that “big performing arts school” feeling rather than feeling like a simple string of songs. The creative transitions helped tie everything together, with school announcements bridging the leap between freshman, sophomore, junior, and senior year. There were some tricky technical circumstances to navigate though. With so many performers on stage, individual head mics were understandably not possible, so the music began quite softly to allow the unamplified voices to carry. In the first half, some students were clearly working very hard to project into the space, and at times that effort began to show through vocal strain, shakiness, or cracks. Encouragingly, the sound balance improved noticeably in the second half! The overhead mics picked up the voices more effectively, the music was able to come up in volume, and the students sounded more supported and comfortable. What was most impressive, especially under those circumstances, was the commitment. Every student on stage was switched ON. In the full ensemble numbers, we could see every single face, and nobody dropped their character. It showed discipline, training, and a real understanding that ensemble work was not “waiting for your solo.” The group intensity and cohesion were one of the strongest features of the whole showcase. The show opened, very understandably, with “Beautiful”, the opening number from Heathers, led by Gisella Vickers. It was the perfect entry point into this world of hallway hierarchy. This flowed into a delicious mashup of “Candy Store” and “Meet the Plastics”, performed by six fabulously intimidating queens. “Telephone Hour” from Bye Bye Birdie was an early highlight, with bright choreography, polka dots and breathless teenage gossip. It captured the infectious cheer of the musical’s vintage style. Costumes throughout were well matched to the repertoire, quickly establishing the worlds of their songs, whether through the modesty of Spring Awakening, the flair of The Prom, the big skirts of Grease, or the rebellion of Jagged Little Pill. The solo song choices were thoughtfully matched to each soloist. Miranda Brown brought clear youthful character work to “The Lamest Place in the World”, while Georgia McNamara captured the beautifully unfiltered enthusiasm of “I Love Play Rehearsal.” Ava Fitzsimons had a ball with “Think of Meryl Streep,” embodying that specific theatrical-kid ingénue energy. Fangirls followed, with Sianna Thew performing “Wait and See.” She captured the feeling of being 14 years old and finding comfort through a pop star obsession. Been there, girl. Her voice carried impressively without a mic, with a soaring quality to her sound. The Spring Awakening section shifted the tone fast. Kai Sorbello stepped into Melchior for “All That’s Known” with real presence and young star power. This was followed by Rowan Eastgate and Ben Smith leading the excitable boys through “The Bitch of Living,” giving the group a chance to tap into frustration, rebellion, and restless adolescent energy. “Sincerely Me” from Dear Evan Hansen was one of the most enjoyable character numbers of the evening. Oscar Lowe brought strong comedy and vocal confidence as Connor, while Rowan Eastgate was a winsome and believable Evan, nailing that final note with real control. Maximillian Martin was very funny as the extremely unhelpful Jared. The six boys in this cohort had a lot of featured opportunities, and they made strong use of them. Neilla Bradstreet brought a powerful voice to “Ironic,” complete with full chair-ography by the ensemble. Cooper Lansley burst onto the stage as Jamie in “And You Don’t Even Know It.” It was camp, high-energy, and a total crowd-pleaser. The dancers earned big cheers, and Cooper led the number with sparkle. And now I want a full version from this cohort immediately. Ben Smith made a strong impression with “Michael in the Bathroom,” balancing the awkward dorkiness of the character with a solid vocal performance. It was a song that needed both humour and genuine pessimism, and he found both. One of the strongest group numbers was “Second Thoughts,” featuring Miranda Brown, Rowan Eastgate, Oscar Lowe, Josie Folland, and Isabelle Thomsett. I will admit, this was a number I was not familiar with, but it was wonderful to experience. The blend of personalities, the staging, and the overlapping clarity of vocal lines made it one of the most polished moments in the showcase. Among the many upbeat numbers, Laine Devoy’s “Once Upon a Time” from Bare stood out for its stillness and vulnerability. It was one of the rare ballads in the program, and Laine brought one of the strongest unamplified voices of the night. The song required emotional openness without melodrama, and he handled that beautifully. The second half continued to make room for both familiar and lesser-known repertoire. Vanities, another musical I was less familiar with, gave Keira Whyte, Jaiselle Hunter, and Jasmine Sinclair a wonderfully sassy moment with “Organised Life.” With southern belle accents, plastered grins, and a plan to rig the homecoming queen vote, they were a terrifying little trio. Indya Munroe stepped into queen bee mode for “Killer Instinct” from Bring It On, bringing confidence, attitude, and impressive vocal riffs. It was a great fit for her, and she knew exactly how to command the moment. The mascs had an absolute blast with “Mama Says” from Footloose, led by Maximillian Martin as Willard, crutches and all. They were all clearly loving every second of playing up the redneck, country-boy comedy. These boys were very comfortable being clowns, and that is absolutely a compliment. Speaking of, “Screw Loose” from Cry-Baby, performed by Tessa Parrish, was another standout comedy solo. Her gliss, belt, tone, and unhinged character choices all landed well, making it one of the most vocally and comedically exciting moments of the night. Zombie Prom brought in some fun full-group staging, led by Rhiannon Baird, before the inevitable inclusion of Grease. Charlotte Ball had a strong moment as Sandy, especially in the “But now! There’s nowhere to hide...” section, which she delivered with great conviction. Eulla Cadoo-Dagley was OTT extra as Rizzo, to the point that she accidentally hit the overhead mic multiple times. Then came “The Ballad of Sara Berry,” a favourite of mine, and it was epic! Led by Olivia Crow, who showcased a great low register despite the lack of amplification, the group choreography in prom dresses was sharp and the beat was killer once the music was turned up. It was one of the numbers that really benefited from the full group’s commitment. To bring us back to a more wholesome version of high school, Theo Hunt led “It’s Time to Dance” from The Prom. It closed the main body of the showcase with a full dance section from the entire cohort. The tempo was fast, the synchronisation was slick, and everyone gave 110%. By this point, the students had well and truly earned their ovation. The evening came full circle with “Bring On Tomorrow” from Fame, as the “graduates” looked ahead. It was a sweet closing choice and brought a lovely sense of optimism. After a showcase filled with popularity battles, heartbreak, obsession, insecurity, and rebellion, this final number felt like a hug. The students were living through their own formative years as artists, learning how to take up space, support each other, and find their voices. The program also reminded me how many high-school-set musicals exist! I did find myself mentally adding Carrie, High School Musical, and Hairspray to the list. The creative team clearly understood how to build a showcase that served both the students and the theme. Tim Hill’s direction gave the evening a clear arc, Jacqui Devereux’s musical leadership allowed a wide range of repertoire to sit within one world, and Tess Hill’s choreography, with assistance from Lauren Bensted, gave the cohort plenty of opportunities to move with style. With a group this large, it would have been easy for the evening to feel crowded or uneven, but the structure kept the momentum moving and gave the students room to shine. These students are all at exciting stages of their musical theatre journeys. What I admired most was that they were all having a go at big material. They were tackling songs that asked for stamina, vulnerability, humour, stylisation, accents, high-speed choreography, and strong character choices. Even with the challenges of sound, they remained focused, brave, and committed. That is how young performers grow. Not by waiting until everything is perfect, but by stepping into the work with heart and giving it a go!

Xanadu | Presented by Mira Ball Productions at Ron Hurley Theatre Book: Douglas Carter Beane | Music and Lyrics: Jeff Lynne and John Farrar Producer: Elodie Boal | Director: Timothy Wynn Choreographer: Jennifer B Ashley Music Director: Rae Rose | Band Leader: Ruby Tate Makeup, Wigs and Set: Rosie Humphreys | Costumes: Jackie Fredericksen Sound Design: Jacob Cash | Lighting Design: Carter Firmager Pegasus Design: Garry Hull Photography: By B’rit Creative “Let it be known: in 1980, inspiration left the arts!” The original Xanadu film may have been considered a flop in 1980, but Mira Ball Productions’ stage version was anything but! This was a vivid, shimmering, farcical, self-aware journey on wheels. Literally. I’d never seen Xanadu before (oops!), so I went in only knowing the basics: roller skates, disco balls, Olivia Newton-John, Gene Kelly... and what I experienced was a full-throttle musical fever dream about inspiration, Greek mythology, legwarmers, and the terrifying thrill of making art and hoping someone else sees the magic in it too. The script was completely on the nose and absolutely knew it. It was packed with 80s slang, fourth-wall breaks, and some cheeky local and current references tucked into the glorious nonsense. Nothing about this production asked to be taken seriously, which was exactly why it worked. But beneath all the camp, Xanadu revealed a genuinely beautiful little heart: a love letter to every theatre person who knows the chaos of making something from nothing. That is where we truly live: somewhere between inspiration, panic, and sequins. The story follows struggling LA artist Sonny Malone, who is ready to give up on his life (bit dramatic...) when the Greek muses magically come to life from one of his murals. Clio disguises herself as an Aussie gal named Kira and stays on Earth to help inspire Sonny. Together with Danny McGuire, they dream up Xanadu, an entertainment venue in Venice Beach. But when two jealous muse sisters decide to meddle, love breaks divine rules, and suddenly we are off to Mount Olympus... a disco in the sky! Nykita O’Keeffe was enchanting as Kira/Clio. She had exactly the sweet, shimmering tone needed for this score, with that clean 80s popstar quality that made the whole thing feel bright and dreamy. As Clio, she carried herself with magical muse confidence. As Kira, she committed fully to the terrible (American idea of an Australian) accent. I also genuinely think Nykita had been possessed by the spirit of roller-disco Barbie. She glided around the stage with this sparkly quality, all while remembering singing, acting, blocking, landing jokes, and skating in circles like she had no concern for dizziness. Her sng “Suspended in Time” was especially beautiful, giving her a chance to show off her angelic voice while riding a Pegasus, as you do. Croft Phillips was wonderfully sweet and ridiculous as Sonny Malone. His Sonny was artsy, funky, chatty, sincere, and magnificently delusion in the way only a struggling artist in a musical can be. He gave Sonny such an earnest golden retriever heart towards Kira. His voice sparkled in the melodramatic “Don’t Walk Away.” I also need to mention the epic XANADU sign, which looked fantastic, even if Croft put the N backwards. Spelling is hard. Dreams are harder. Chris Kellett brought old-school charm and authority as Danny McGuire, later doubling as Zeus with great (bearded) fun. His duet with Nykita, “Whenever You’re Away From Me,” had a beautiful crooner quality, and the dance work by Jaya was slick, playful, and full of vintage glamour. Then there were the sisters. Samantha Sherrin as Melpomene and Kennedy Foley as Calliope were a wickedly funny pair, and their number “Evil Woman” absolutely brought the house down. Sam had us eating out of the palm of her hand. She knew exactly when to command the room, when to throw in some improv, and when to let a look do the damage. And Kennedy proved she could do no wrong, with immaculate comic timing and a gift for making every ridiculous moment completely intentional. Together, they were theatrical menace in drapes. Peter Wood, Ashleigh Grabasch, Jaya, Molly Campbell, Sam Caruana, and Sophia Marzano gave the show so much of its sparkle. They kept popping up with little comic beats that made them impossible to glance away from. I kept catching something funny happening just off to the side: a face being pulled, a dramatic pose being struck, or a muse silently judging someone’s choices with divine authority. “Fool” became a bright, upbeat anthem, with Nykita leading beautifully while her sisters swirled around her like a glittery emotional support system with attitude. I particularly loved Jaya, Peter Wood, and Sam Caruana as three of the “sisters,” bringing supportive backup with sass, singing, and plenty of dance flair. The choreography by Jennifer B Ashley knew exactly what show this was. It was camp, character-driven, and full of fun. “Dancin’” was a highlight, throwing 1960s swing against 1980s excess in a dance-off that let the cast really play with the clash of styles. The muses constantly swept in and out of scenes with purpose, creating that feeling that inspiration could strike at any second, probably wearing a toga. Musically, the show was in strong hands with Rae Rose as Music Director. The band, featuring Ruby Tate, Mark Mirhan, Bryce Francis, and Dominic Nicholson, was tucked tightly into the "wings" but sounded fantastic. Ruby especially killed it in those jazzy keys moments. The live music gave the production a huge lift, and the score had that bright, electric nostalgia that made it very hard to stay seated. There were moments where the group vocals became a little overwhelming. Everyone on that stage had a powerful voice, which was a great problem to have, but it meant the blend occasionally got lost when they were all singing together. It may have been a mic balance issue rather than a performance one, but a little more definition in the mix would have helped the harmonies land more clearly. Visually, the show was a sugar rush. Jackie Fredericksen’s costumes were perfectly bright, sparkly, and outrageous in all the right ways, while Rosie Humphreys’ makeup, wigs, and set gave the production its cartoonish pop. Everyone looked like they had been styled by a Greek muse who had discovered an 80s aerobics VHS. Garry Hull’s Pegasus design added a wonderful bit of stage magic, and Carter Firmager’s lighting filled the world with every colour of the rainbow. The Olympus scene was one of the most absurd parts of the night, and I mean that as a compliment. The gods appeared with wild accents, wilder logic, and a parade of mythological creatures. Once Cyclops, Medusa, and Nessus appeared, the production had fully surrendered to its own madness. That was where Timothy Wynn’s direction really worked its magic. He let the show be ridiculous, but every pause, pose, and dramatic reveal was placed with care. The cast played the comedy boldly, but still cared enough about the story to make the audience care too, so that by the end we were on our feet giving them a standing ovation. I genuinely left with a headache from grinning/laughing so much. Mira Ball Productions gave us a glitter-drenched celebration of creativity, carried by a cast who committed completely to the bit. For all its neon and mythological chaos, it found something genuinely magical underneath it all. It was a ridiculous, joyful reminder that sometimes the dream really is worth chasing, especially if it comes with roller skates.

Brace Brace Presented by: PIP Theatre Written by: Oli Forsyth Directed by: Deidre Grace Sound Design: Freddy Komp Set Design: Bill Haycock Lighting Design: Geoff Squires Fight Director: Jason McKell Intimacy Director: Heidi Gledhill Photographer: Kris Anderson “You would think a hijacking would kill the romantic mood.” Ray and Sylvia’s story began like so many love stories do: eyes meeting across a crowded room. Romance followed. Then marriage. Then a honeymoon flight, with a whole future waiting for them on the other side of landing. But they never get the honeymoon they imagined. Brace Brace, written by Oli Forsyth and produced by PIP Theatre, is the kind of play that grips you by the shoulders and pulls you into a visceral journey. It is oddly funny, properly frightening, and painfully human. Told through Ray and Sylvia’s own voices, the production seats the audience close around the action on three sides. It does not let us sit back as distant witnesses. Instead, it pulls us into the fractured memory of the event. We are there with them, trapped in the noise, confusion, and terror of the plane cabin. In a single moment, a wild-eyed male passenger storms towards the cockpit and suddenly, the plane is plummeting towards the ocean. Sylvia, unbelted and thrown towards the front of the aircraft, makes a choice to act. Or perhaps her body makes the choice before her mind has time to catch up. In doing the unthinkable, she saves everyone on board. We are often captivated by disaster stories because they make us wonder, “What would I do in that moment of crisis? Would I fight, flee, freeze, help, hide?” But Brace Brace is not really about the flight. Not entirely... It is more interested in what happens afterwards, when survival comes with moral, psychological, relational, and physical consequences: the “why me?” moments, the survivor’s guilt, the anger, and the fragile coexistence of relief and grief. It is about what it takes to keep living after catastrophe, while parts of yourself remain forever altered and your nervous system is still somewhere in the sky, bracing for impact. Amelia Slatter and Henry Solomon are seated in theatre before the story begins, eyes fixed on the floor, waiting in lounge chairs like passengers called to a gate that no one wants to pass through. Brace Brace is primarily a narrated two-hander, and the dynamic between Henry and Amelia is truly compelling. Playing Ray and Sylvia, they swiftly and convincingly build a bond, then spend the rest of the play showing us how two survivors of the same event can process it so differently. Amelia Slatter is the blazing centre of this production. She is portrayed as tough, reactive, vulnerable, furious, and detached all at once. She moves between love, anger, and numbness like a pendulum of trauma, never at rest. Amelia’s performance feels deeply informed, whether through research, lived understanding, or extraordinary empathy for survivors. Sylvia’s PTSD is not portrayed through obvious symptoms, but through the paranoia infiltrating her home, depersonalisation, an insistent need for understanding, and the simultaneous presence of relief and grief. It is in her terror of being misunderstood and her desperation for someone to affirm her reality; someone to say, “Yes, this really happened. It was as bad as you say. You did the right thing.” Henry Solomon is funny, comforting, and quick-witted, delivering many of the play’s best one-liners. His dry, irreverent delivery injects much-needed life between the play’s more harrowing moments. But he is more than just comic relief; his portrayal is painfully human, even when frustrating to witness. He tries to remain himself, or at least convince himself that he can. His instinct is to move forward, to rationalise, to keep the relationship from being defined by the worst thing that has happened to them. Sometimes his stance suggests strength; other times, avoidance. Sylvia and Ray’s coping paths diverge so strongly that their shared experience becomes another kind of isolation. The more Ray wants to move away from the event, the more Sylvia is pulled back into its relentless grip. There is a brutal frustration in watching trauma alter a person’s fundamental sense of self while everyone around them waits for them to become “normal” again. Then there is Matthew Filkins, who gives a genuinely chilling performance as The Man. During the hijacking sequence, he is terrifying without needing to say a word. His physical presence, facial expression, and unstable intensity create an air of dread. The psychotic look he gives teeters somewhere between fractured reality and chilling intention. It is the sort of face that would haunt nightmares. Despite knowing he is a sweetie in real life, Matt’s unsettling portrayal sent chills through me more than once. Matthew is also astonishingly quick in his character shifts. As a television interviewer, he snaps into a completely different mode, with that bright, polished, hungry media personality down to a fine art. Each character portrayal feels so distinct that, in a blink, he can become a grateful father, the pilot, the shrewd interviewer, or the man at the centre of the nightmare. The production’s first clever design detail appears before the play even begins: the program resembles an aircraft safety card. Inside, Bill Haycock’s minimalist set transforms the stage into a runway-like aisle, evoking a plane without literal interior props. No clutter, no hiding spaces, just bodies, words, sound, light, and my rising blood pressure! Freddy Komp’s immersive sound design feels visceral, with aircraft effects that seem physical rather than decorative. There are moments where I felt my body preparing for impact while my brain knew perfectly well I was sitting safely in a theatre. It reminded me of Darkfield’s Flight from 2024. Geoff Squires’ lighting design is colourful, controlled, and uneasy. Much of the audience remains in darkness while the action moves up and down the raised, narrow stage. The LED strips, like emergency exit lighting, are tied to the breath of the play, tightening and releasing with the same awful rhythm as panic. The physical sequences are some of the most impressive parts of the production. With Jason McKell as Fight Director and Heidi Gledhill as Intimacy Director, the attacks feel frighteningly real. Amelia and Henry narrate moments as they play them, which could easily create distance, but here it has the opposite effect. We hear what is happening while seeing bodies commit to it, so it becomes both memory and immediate action at once. Writer Oli Forsyth populates the play with brilliant one-liners, ethical knots, and emotional landmines, all perfectly placed and paced. It grapples with fear, power, identity, blame, justice, and the messy aftermath of doing what is “right.” As Sylvia exclaims in exasperation, “I had no idea helping stop a plane crash would have such moral consequences!” A key strength of the script is its tonal whiplash, jolting from humour to violence, tenderness to discomfort, and absurdity to deep sadness. Director Deidre Grace keeps those shifts moving with thrilling precision. There is not a wasted moment. The 80 minutes fly by (bad wording sorry!). The pace is relentless but not rushed, full of words, emotions, and action, yet still spacious enough for silence, tension, and dread. “Stop letting him define you!” may be a rallying cry, but this production makes painfully clear how impossible that can feel when trauma rewires your sense of safety. Together, the writing and direction understand that the real question is not simply, “What happened on the plane?” It is about “the person you choose to be after the worst happens.” Though I am fortunate never to have endured such trauma myself, members of my family have. This play makes me reflect much more deeply on how a single event that may last just minutes can cast long, haunting shadows; stretching on in ways no headline or court case can contain. I kept thinking of words shared by a family member during the Port Arthur 30th anniversary just last month: “Even in the face of profound darkness, there can still be a will to protect life. When people speak about survival, they often imagine strength as something immediate and visible. But for many of us, survival is quieter than that. It was learning how to gain confidence in a world that suddenly felt unsafe. It was carrying the grief, confusion, guilt, and questions that we may never have answers to. The scars people carry are real. They do not simply disappear with time. Even when the world moves on, and when headlines fade, and the attention shifts elsewhere, for those of us touched by that day, it is never forgotten. It lives within us.” That sense of surviving beyond the moment itself is what Brace Brace captures so well. This production is a rollercoaster in the truest sense (sending a similar rush of adrenaline through me actually!). It is strangely funny, confronting, and violent, but ultimately, it is about connection; the people we cling to, the ones we lose, and the ones, if any, who truly understand our pain. This is a meticulously directed, beautifully performed, and technically striking piece that leaves the audience charged with tension. I would see it again in a heartbeat. I might also, perhaps, like never to board a plane again, though that is a separate matter entirely.

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< Back THEATRE: Comedy of Errors - Griffith University 4 June 2026 Season: June 4th - 5th, 2026 Title: William Shakespeare’s Comedy of Errors Presented By: Griffith University Genre: Comedy / Shakespeare / Physical Theatre Synopsis: This fast-paced adaptation of Shakespeare’s The Comedy of Errors brings mistaken identities, slapstick chaos, and sibling confusion to life in an energetic sixty-minute production performed by Griffith University’s second-year acting students. Featuring physical comedy, accessible storytelling, and contemporary staging, the production reimagines one of Shakespeare’s funniest plays for modern audiences. Performance Dates: June 4th - 5th, 2026 Performance Times: Thursday - 11AM & 7:30PM Friday - 7:30PM Performance Location and Address: Kingston Butter Factory Cultural Precinct, Butterbox Theatre, 270 Jacaranda Avenue, Kingston QLD 4114 Ticket Costs: Adult - $30 Concession / Student - $22 School Groups - $17 students Teachers/Carers - One free ticket per 10 paying students Ticket Link: Buy Tickets - Comedy of Errors Warnings: Contains adult references and mature themes presented in a comedic and exaggerated style. Recommended Age: Recommended for ages 15+ Duration: Approximately 60–70 minutes, no interval. Cast: Performed by Griffith University second-year acting students. Production Website: Griffith University - Comedy of Errors Other information: The production uses contemporary staging and physical theatre techniques to make Shakespeare accessible for younger and general audiences. The Kingston Butter Factory Cultural Precinct offers accessible parking, wheelchair access, accessible amenities, and companion seating options. Nearby Logan Arts venues include Logan Entertainment Centre and Logan Art Gallery. Previous Next

< Back THEATRE: The Revisionist - PIP Theatre 3 June 2026 Season: June 3rd - 13th, 2026 Title: The Revisionist Presented By: PIP Theatre Genre: Drama / Dark Comedy Synopsis: The Revisionist is a poignant and darkly comic drama by Jesse Eisenberg exploring identity, family history, grief, and connection. When a struggling young American writer travels to Poland seeking inspiration and escape, he reconnects with his elderly cousin Maria, a Holocaust survivor whose warmth, memories, and resilience challenge his detached worldview. Through humour and emotional honesty, the play examines generational trauma, belonging, and the stories we inherit. Performance Dates: June 3rd - 13th, 2026 Performance Times: Wednesday - 6:30PM Thursday & Friday - 7:30PM Saturday - 2PM & 7:30PM Performance Location and Address: PIP Theatre, Studio Theatre, 20 Park Road, Milton QLD 4064 Ticket Costs: $30 - $37 Ticket Link: Buy Tickets - The Revisionist Warnings: Likely contains mature themes, coarse language, references to grief, war trauma, and Holocaust-related subject matter. Recommended Age: Recommended for mature teenage and adult audiences. Creative Team: Playwright - Jesse Eisenberg Production Website: PIP Theatre - The Revisionist Other information: Presented in the intimate Studio Theatre space at PIP Theatre in Milton. The venue is fully accessible via foyer lift access and includes wheelchair-accessible amenities, dedicated accessibility seating, and Companion Card support. Parking is available underneath the venue and nearby street parking is also available Previous Next