Generosity, rigour and lots of potential, 4 dance works at the 2025 Sydney Fringe
Sydney Fringe Festival, 2-30 September 2025
Works reviewed
Tala Issaoui Once In a Blue Moon
Powerhouse Youth Theatre (PYT), Fairfield, 4th September 2025
Lucky Lartey The Ghana Road Show
Eternity Playhouse, Darlinghurst, 6th September 2025
Studio One, University of NSW, Kensington, 18th September 2025
Natasha Sturgis The Land of Her // Bruce
Neilson Theatre, Sydney Dance Company, Walsh Bay, 25th September 2025
Review by Sarah Kalule
The dance works I witnessed at Sydney Fringe Festival 2025 carried such high potential yet revealed the limited time artists often have to develop new work. I left each performance wanting more. I wondered what the experimental and emerging can do beyond a grind towards the readymade, the new, and the constant seizing of opportunity. For me, these works fell into that predicament where they seemed to be at the brink of unrealised potential. It will be interesting to see how things stack up in this year for dance when compared to last, as the Fringe begins a new phase with a new status.
Tensions between ritual, repetition and intimacy foreground Tala Issaoui’s solo performance, Once in a Blue Moon. Combining film, sound and live dance, all created by this self-described multidisciplinary artist, Tala takes us on a performance journey that is deeply personal and constrained.
The work begins with the short film ‘Ode To My Soulmate’. We witness Tala in close and medium shots, framed by an aged yet sturdy tree, its abundant branches shading her on a sunny day. The film is overlayed with images of her body and the surrounding foliage, inducing a dreamlike slowing of time. Her movement here is paired back. With tender fingertips, she occasionally caresses the tree’s trunk, its visible roots and lush green leaves. As if mimicking a branch caught in the wind, her arms sway gracefully, reaching upwards and outwards. This filmed dance feels like a partnership with the tree.
For Tala this film symbolises her yearning to be “in a romantic connection…that is emotional, physical and spiritual.” (2022) We witness her intimate connection with the tree through her dancing, as if both bodies might merge into one entity. Yet the film leaves me wanting more. The embodied connections remain mystifying. She is held at a distance, captured through the repetition of her swaying body, rather than through a performed revelation unveiling meanings of her relationship and its significance, which may have offered another layer of the internal connections Tala seems to hold deeply.
Then we are transported into the live performance with the ‘real’ Tala on PYT Fairfield’s stage in sections called ‘Void…’ and ‘Once in a Blue Moon’. These sections merge seamlessly, blurring where one begins and the other ends. Tala presents herself centre stage amongst a cycle of found objects, reminiscent of expensive home decor: two golden goblets, one golden bowl and shear white tulle, all surrounded by a circle of stones. These objects echo the film’s personal themes of the relationship between Tala and objects. Tala begins to repeat movements from the film – slow swaying, high chest releases and yearning arm reaches towards something unseen yet real to her. Over several slowed minutes, she navigates through ritualistic movement scores: goblet toasting, water spilling, dress drenching and veiling her body. This interaction between objects and body evokes the rituals of special rooms: spaces of rest, solitude, communion or connecting to what might be a greater power. At times Tala circles the stage at an even walking pace, pausing only to present longing gestures through an expanded chest and lengthened arms, reaching into an imagined universe beyond the theatre’s walls. But her performing body rarely invites the audience in. Her trance-like gaze seems to resist us; she moves in her own world. The performance feels dramatic — a hypnotic trance.
Like the striking ring of a hypnotist’s gong, this ethereal state is disrupted by sharp bursts of flashy lighting and thunderous sound which Tala also composed. This snap between states repeats several times. Tala’s meditative, self-contained choreography now stands in stark juxtaposition to the lighting and sound effects. She seems unaffected by these striking disruptions, continuing her slow and steady movement score; body and objects in dancing partnership.
I wondered what Tala was generating through these contrasts: why pair the spectacular with the meditative? While her movement resisted the change of pace by staying in a continued quiet intimacy, the strobing lights and roaring sound occasionally broke the dreamlike quiet. These theatrical elements sometimes threatened to swallow her tender ritual, her engagement with the objects. The lighting and sound marked transitions between performed acts. These moments evoked a kind of double consciousness, one the performance world and the other ‘real’ life, reminding me that I was watching a performance in theatre space in the middle of Western Sydney. In a way the theatrical elements risked overshadowing Tala’s quiet inner world. Snappy special effects created distractions from Tala’s movement and created a distance between the audience and performer. This might have been the aim … a performance that carried a sense of isolation rather than invitation. With Tala alone on stage, in her own world and separated from us, we were made aware of her ability to keep us at arms length, stirring feelings of loss and contemplation.
Tala’s quiet strength held our attention with restraint and commitment. With further attention to how production design supports her world, Once in a Blue Moon gestures towards the possibility of a unique performance, one that merges the deeply personal and intimate, with the highly theatrical and deliberate withheld, an embodiment resisting the earthly realm of the personal.
Lucky Lartey’s The Ghana Road Show is an ambitious variety performance where tradition meets contemporary flair. There was Senegalese drumming, Afro-contemporary dance, call and response games, head-bobbing polyrhythms, playful trumpeting, dish-spinning, balancing, juggling and friendly competition, all wrapped in the cheeky banter of *KMT* (kissing-my-teeth) — a diasporic gesture expressing playful annoyance or irritation by sucking air through puckered lips to create a distinct lip-smacking sound. In this case, KMT was used to playfully humble someone from showing off more than one should.
Driven by admirable talent and infectious energy, the performance was thrilling, with explosive delivery and ambitious promise. Running for 50 minutes, it featured artists from across the African diaspora, all of whom boast an assortment of talents. Lucky Lartey directed and choreographed the work. Lady Chika was a performer and DJ and dancer. Pedro Olympio a performer and trumpeter. Yacou Mbaye a performer and percussionist. Mutala a performer and street acrobat. Enoch Adjei Laryea a performer, pan spinner and circus artist.
As the work began, and audience members settled, a voiceover welcomed our arrival via Ghana Airlines to The Ghana Road Show—preparing us for the adventure to come. Lone trumpeter, Pedro Olympio, entered from the audience bank. Sustained musical notes echoed throughout the Eternity Playhouse as Olympio paced slowly down the stairs. The pace accelerated as he played syncopated rhythms. In a moment the remaining cast burst onto stage, each presenting their unique act. Lucky Lartey rolled in wearing bright yellow roller-skates, while Mutala was break dancing. Enoch Adjei Laryea spun dishes accompanied by Lady Chika’s exciting afro-pop music and Yacou Mbaye’s drumming.
The performance continued in this way, with several short acts offered with either one, two or all performers on stage. Road Show had exciting themes, reminding me of the joys of summertime backyard BBQs, full of community and fun. We were not only entertained by these performers but immersed in the action. On occasion they worked the crowd through audience participation, call and response games. With house lights bright enough to see everyone in the audience, one performer would play a rhythm, then gesture to us to clap and repeat. Another performer would chant, then gesture to us to do the same. This was looking like an enjoyable night full of circus, dance and musical skills.
But as The Ghana Road Show progressed, the performers’ stamina was tested. Each act seemed more difficult than the one before. They juggled while trumpeting and they drummed while dancing, which challenged the performers commitment to upholding the energy levels required to execute these multiple acts. Starting at such a full-speed-ahead, with high energy movement and intricate instrument playing, seemed to shake the performers’ ability to keep the currency going. Their currency? Athleticism and skill. Over such a long period of time their flagging energy reminded me that there is exhaustion as performance, where exhaustion can become choreographic. In Exhausting Dance, André Lepecki (2006) theorises that exhaustion interrupts or disrupts the usual in dance. But here, in Road Show, I’m not sure that exhaustion was a strategic critique. In Road Show exhaustion revealed the performers inability to divert their excitement at being on stage, over exertion in front of a live and very appreciative audience — they just couldn’t keep up the pace.
Later I reflected on the opening voiceover where witty jokes were made about the (in)famous jallof rice. It was up for debate as to whether one resonates with either Ghanaian or Nigerian rice, which is a narrative I would have liked to see revisited. Had this storyline been developed, it may have offered additional drama and perhaps provided the performers with some more levity in the show, as well as giving them a little respite.
Nonetheless, these artists are exceedingly generous, offering their dance with unapologetic confidence, grabbing our attention and being very entertaining. Even though it seemed their stamina was challenged, their excellence was evident in their show‘man’ship. They all had fun and their unwavering commitment to having fun allowed everyone to experience a night of real joy. The collaborators of The Ghana Road Show radiated excitement and generosity, showcasing the possibilities of contemporary African diasporic performance. Their outstanding skills and charisma certainly left me, and all the audience I imagine, in high spirits.
Against a stark green backdrop, Ella Watson-Heath (director/performer) and Ashleigh Veitch (collaborator/performer) stand, eyes fixed on their hands, evoking the all too familiar gesture of screen tethered texting. Their flickering wrists and busy thumbs morph into abstracted variations: hands raised, lowered, separated and mirrored in multiple directions. One gestural score seamlessly blends into another, creating a robotic rhythm of alertness and control. Their costumes also reflect the present and anticipated digital themes. Ella wears a casual beige t-shirt, pants and sneakers. Ashleigh, a head-to-toe green body suit.
Still Fall tried to make sense of the digital age through the transition from finger-led fixations to a full body fixation through Contact-like choreography. In her book Contact Improvisation: An Introduction to a Vitalizing Dance Form, Cheryl Pallant (2017) describes physical contact as key identifier in this form, where touch rather than words is used to inform each dancer’s movement direction.
Vital information about the direction and quality of dance exchanges through this dynamic touch site… In place of words, the close proximity of bodies sharing weight and skin, bony and soft surfaces, firm and slack muscles all provide an endless stream of information about the physical condition of the dancers and where the dance can go. Tired or frail bodies may quickly fold down to the floor or maintain a feathery tough as they sashay across the floor. Muscled dancers with steady balance may ignite a high speed dance where the point of contact shifts swiftly. (Pallant 2017: 22)
Ella and Ashleigh mirror Pallant’s contact improvisation approach. Both standing, Ashleigh puppets Ella’s movement by placing her hands on Ella’s hips. On a horizontal plane, she swivels Ella repeatedly, side to side, left to right, controlling her speed and effort in a hurried pace. Beside them, televisions begin to flash anti-digital texts which appear and disappear rapidly. We witness one body feeding the other Pallant’s stream of information, while the other willingly receives and responds to that touch. For me, this brought up the imagery of one entity consuming another: Ashleigh controlling Ella, much like soul sucking hold of digital screens of humanity. This was perhaps a nod back to Ashleigh and Ella’s opening scene of screen tethered texting. Through this puppet-like action the two performers were offering a comment on the digital age, re-affirming this through anti-digital texts on the accompanying screens and the accompaniment of jarring electronic sound design by Ella.
I noticed their movement score appeared rehearsed and safe, further reflecting the relationship between the pair throughout the whole work. I thought about this choice of pairing a sense of urgency with carefully curated Contact-esk choreography and if these contrasts were intentional in the performance.
The work then unfolded into more exciting interactions: two performers, two televisions and two cameras, showcasing live feed compilations of disappearing limbs, mismatched body parts, and sky-falling slow-motion action, backgrounded by stock cloud images. The atmosphere in this section was charged and climactic. But, just as momentum peaked, it was all over. The performance ended. For me, the work came to a close where it felt like it was just beginning to form and communicate ideas. We were left with resoundingly unresolved expectations.
There are exciting possibilities in Still Fall and in further developments I would be intrigued to know where Ella and Ashleigh choose to take the early ideas of friction between human and non-human into the post human cyborg-like mismatching of body parts on screens. But in this iteration of Still Fall these two accomplished dance artists commanded the stage with choreographic precision, experimenting with digital identities within themselves and the world around them. I am anticipating where this work will go in the future and I do hope it gets to go somewhere for these performer/makers.
Binaries between masculine and feminine, tenderness and brutality, humorousness and seriousness … the north south of magnetic polarities, formed the flip-side-coin of this double-bill: The Land of Her // Bruce.
In the first half, The Land of Her, Natasha Sturgis is the director/performer/sound editor and Isabel Estrella also performs. This is a considered relationship formed between the two female presenting performers. In the second half, a hefty, hearty relationship drove Bruce, performed by Romain Hassanin and Kai Taberner. Each duet sought to test gendered qualities, the feminine in The Land of Her and the masculine in Bruce. Natasha and Isabel showed confidence through their perfected technical lines, poise and control. Romain and Kai showcased trust, humour and strength through their duet, pushing each other beyond physical exhaustion and into exciting, risk-taking stunt work. In both pieces themes were tied together with gestural sequences merged with pure movement sequences — rotating spines, unravelling limbs, and pressing, reaching, and jumping across the dance floor with keen musicality.
The Land of Her immediately launches into hard hitting choreography — explosive expansions, taking up space with great force, lifting, dropping and then obstructing one another —it was almost as if the audience were an obstruction too as we sat on Sydney Dance Company’s Nielson Theatre’s stage, dangerously close to the action. This was a tense and competitive relationship between two feminine bodies.
They’re on all fours.
Face to face.
Neck cranked upwards.
They’re close
Within limb’s reach.
Eye to eye.
Both rock intensely
Forward and back.
Towards and inwards.
Jolting abruptly
Again and again and again.
Never touching.
A combative tug of war, neither are standing down.
On the other side of the coin was Bruce. Here masculinity made its way onto the stage in the form of a boxing match, making it strikingly clear why we were sitting in the round. Like two heavy weight champions, Romain Hassanin and Kai Taberner confidently entered. They established a sense of trust between each other and the audience, casually walking around the whole stage and catching the attention of various audience members.
One winks.
Enticing eyes.
A cheeky nod,
from the other.
Both grinning.
Now we’re grinning…
This display of mate-ship soon morphed into an attempt at dominance, quitely playful at first. But then arms are slashing across space; massive jumps executed with maximum effort, bodies ricocheting from one spot to another. Testing physical boundaries.
Near miss collision!
Bodies fling forcefully across the stage.
Close call!
Someone lands below my feet, nicking the air surrounding my personal space.
Vicious yet controlled full body action.
In other moments Romain and Kai are intimate with each other, more tender and supportive, their bodies gently leaning in, taking turns guiding one another through the space. They also lay down in harmonious in silence, as if in deep rest. I wondered about these choices. Were they testing our voyeurism and the assumptions we make about gendered bodies?
The Land of Her // Bruce offered us visceral choreography, but I was left wondering what else the work could do. While showing us excellent dancing, each work was most interesting when the duos navigated their binary themes of gendered relationships and challenged assumed presentations of the body. This is when we witnessed the performers’ depth, their thematic choices exploring the complexity of humanhood.
I enjoyed my Fringe in 2025, watching 4 unique dance works across this city— travelling from Western Sydney to the Eastern Suburbs, Inner City and Sydney’s CBD. Being out in the September excitement of winter’s end was fun. I imagined all those Sydneysiders like me, making their way across the city to see performances in our chosen art form, at the other 400 plus events I did not get to see. The Sydney Fringe Festival gives artists the chance to simply have a go, and even within a short season—each work played for between 3 and 5 nights—it becomes clear that even when you see a small sample of the dance on offer in this city, that the work of Sydney’s choreographers deserve more time and resources to keep evolving. Even within the great outcomes of Sydney Fringe (you’ve heard it before) we need more dance! More space to develop it, present it, and grow its audience. In each performance I saw, all the performers were generous and rigorous dance artists who deserve the chance to bring their dance to the stage more often.
I’m excited to see where Sydney’s dance scene goes next in the 2026 iteration of the Fringe which starts on September 1st.
It will also be interesting to also see what happens to the Fringe with its status as a Foundation Event under the NSW Government’s new framework, funded alongside Sydney’s Vivid and Sydney Festival. How will dance fare under this bigger, wider, higher Sydney Fringe Festival in 2026 and beyond?
Director, Lead Artist, Choreographer, Sound Designer: Tala Issaoui
Powerhouse Youth Theatre (PYT), Fairfield, 4th September 2025
Producer: Gabriela Green Olea
Film Editor: Marcelo Da Fonseca
Film Directors: Varónica Barac-Gomez, Tala Issaoui, Harsh Yalam
Presenter: PYT Fairfield (Fairfield)
Director/Choreographer: Lucky Lartey
Eternity Playhouse, Darlinghurst, 6th September 2025
Sydney Fringe Festival, Eternity Playhouse, Darlinghurst, 2nd-6th September 2025
Commissioned by Create NSW
Producer: Kiri Morcombe
Performers: Lucky Larty, Lady Chika, Pedro Olympio, Yacou Mbaye, Mutala, Enoch Adjei Laryea
Sound/Composition: Lady Chika, Pedro Olympio, Yacou Mbaye
Presenter: Eternity Playhouse (Darlinghurst)
Director/Performer/Sound Design/Costume Design: Ella Watson-Heath
Studio One, University of NSW, Kensington, 18th September 2025
Collaborator/Performer: Ashleigh Veitch
AV/Lighting Designer: Aron Murray
Stage Manager: Sarah Stormont
Presenter: UNSW School of Arts and Media (Kensington) with special thanks to Troy Reid, Mark Mitchell and Harriet Gillies.
Director/Choreographer/Sound Editor: Natasha Sturgis
Neilson Theatre, Sydney Dance Company, Walsh Bay, 25th September 2025
Dramaturg: Will Bartolo
Performers: Natasha Sturgis, Isabel Estrella, Romain Hassanin and Kai Taberner
Lighting Design: Topaz Marlay-Cole
Costume Design: Natasha Sturgis, with assistance from Linda Gamblin
Composer: Alicia Jane Turner
Music: 700Feel, Rival Consoles, Travis Lake, Lord of the Isles and Ellen Renton, LVDF
Photographer/Videographer/Marketer: Abril Felman
Venue: Sydney Dance Company Neilson Theatre (Hickson Rd, The Rocks)
Rehearsal Support: DUTI Dance Studios
Presenter: Sydney Fringe Festival, Dance Hub
References
Issaoui, Tala. Ode To My Soulmate. Directed by Marcelo Da Fonseca. 2022. Video. https://vimeo.com/769426052.
Lepecki, André. Exhausting Dance: Performance and the Politics of Movement. New York: Routledge, 2006.
Pallant, Cheryl. Contact Improvisation: An Introduction to a Vitalizing Dance Form. Jefferson, N.C.: McFarland & Co., 2006.
Sarah Kalule is an artist and early career researcher working across performance, writing and contemporary art theory. Her practice draws on her diasporic histories, feminisms, sustainability science and theatrical jazz dance, exploring the body as material through bold imagery and experimental forms.