Brothers Bare

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https://www.theatreworks.org.au/2025/brothers-bare

Date Reviewed: 07/10/2025

There are glossy big-name blockbuster productions, and then there are hidden gems. In these riskier, intimate spaces, you sense talent bursting at the seams, and sense you’re watching tomorrow’s greats take flight. Brothers Bare at the Explosives Factory is one such rare find.

Presented by Ranting Mime Productions in conjunction with Theatre Works, this dark, audacious triptych of fractured fairy tales rips apart childhood innocence and stitches it back together with blood, brilliance, and bite. You know it’s going to be great fun when the production pamphlet taunts: “Ready to ruin fairy tales forever? Good! You’re invited.”

In this world, an Alice in Wonderland/Tolstoy-styled princess bride is forced to save herself. Goldilocks is a homeless drifter seeking shelter from the storm and a few spare coins before losing herself after a game of Call of Duty. Jack’s beanstalk becomes an allegory for addiction and ambition, while Cinderella, an influencer glued to her poisoned Apple phone, scrolls through platforms that let her “perform, conform, misinform… a shitstorm.”

Through rhythmic poetry and physical theatre, the play reclaims the old tales for a generation burnt by beauty standards, capitalism, and control. We see good girls smiling, being pretty, even when bleeding.

Grace Gemmel is a revelation as she morphs from princess to influencer to Goldilocks, each transformation more dazzling than the last. In the hypnotic shadow-dream sequence, where her corseted influencer-self is plunged into the woods and trolls magically morph into shadows, she seems almost superhuman in her suspension; more vision than flesh, a living metaphor for the way we lose ourselves in the screens we worship. 

As troll or streetwise Jake, Dion Zapantis (remember him in Blood Wedding?) is a foil to her daintiness, his swagger masking vulnerability. And whether a rabbit or a cad, Charlie Veitch has a Johnny Depp-in-the-making energy, a grinning trickster who’s both magnetic and mercurial, commanding the stage with a sly wink.

As the omniscient narrator, Elisheva Biernoff-Giles ties the chaos together with poise and poetry. Her presence grounds the surrealism, and her delivery of “Once upon a never again” — half whisper, half warning — lingers long after the lights dim.

Visually, the production is minimal but stunning. Viv Hargreaves’ lighting flickers like broken fairy lights over Raphael Bradbury’s thrumming, crackling soundscape, while Cameron Boxall’s choreography makes movement itself a language — the tightening of a corset, the twitch of addiction, the collapse of a dream.

Every piece of the puzzle fits together seamlessly — fantastically, like a fairytale should. What makes Brothers Bare truly exceptional, however, is the ensemble's cohesion. You can feel the trust and creative synergy, their shared belief in the show’s philosophy that “the old stories must break before we can build new ones.” It’s this collective spirit that makes the production soar.

If there’s a small quibble, it’s that the third story could have been tighter — its emotional climax slightly overstays its welcome — but even here, the intention and artistry remain powerful, the message unmistakable.

The rest is not happy, because, yes, Brothers Bare is confronting. It dares to ask what happens when fantasy collapses under its own weight. There’s no moral tidy-up here, just the messy truth of being human.

It wakes us up as adults to the bedtime stories that once put us to sleep. It reminds us that the stories that shaped our childhoods weren’t innocent at all — and that perhaps the monsters were never in the woods, but in ourselves.

Highlights

• A bold, poetic reimagining of classic fairytales for the digital age
  
• Electric performances by an outstanding four-person ensemble
  
• The haunting shadow-dream sequence — a visual and emotional high point
  
• A masterclass in physical theatre, rhythm, and symbolism
  
• Visually stunning lighting and choreography that merge movement and meaning
  
• Ensemble cohesion and artistic trust elevate every scene
  
• Philosophically rich — exploring identity, control, and self-destruction
  
• Unflinching and emotionally raw, yet beautifully human
  

Who it’s for

• Lovers of dark, thought-provoking theatre
  
• Audiences intrigued by feminist or psychological reimaginings of fairytales
  
• Fans of physical theatre, poetry, and experimental performance
  
• Those who appreciate emerging talent and bold independent productions
  
• Viewers ready to be challenged — and haunted — long after the curtain falls
• Fans of the Melbourne Fringe Festival! 

Don't miss performances at the Explosives Factory nightly, 7.15pm, until 11 October.

Reviewed by Mary Sinanidis