The Frogs ★★★

The first act, in which Dionysus and Xanthias embark on their quest is lifted by strong performances and Sondheim musical numbers as the duo descends into the underworld in search of a playwright to save civilisation. Visually and choreographically, the production excels; largely due to the intelligent, fluid staging and dynamic transitions and direction from director Georgie Rankcom and designer Libby Todd that keep the momentum alive even when the narrative lags.

The townsfolk, the frogs, the inhabitants of the underworld, Dionysians, and other gods and goddesses are all embodied, in true Greek theatrical tradition, by the Greek chorus. This ensemble is far more than background — taking on multiple roles, including Herakles, Shakespeare, Shaw, Charon and Ariadne. Joaquin Pedro Valdes, Bart Lambert, Carl Patrick, Martha Pothen, Alison Driver, Milo McCarthy and Evonnee Bentley-Holder are all exceptionally talented, delivering tight vocals, inventive movement, and razor-sharp timing as they transition effortlessly from scene to scene. Their presence not only adds humour and depth but actively drives the story forward, grounding the production in the tradition of Greek theatre while injecting it with modern vitality. It’s a clear reflection of the creativity and precision of choreographer Matt Nicholson and musical director Yshani Perinpanayagam.

The second act, which unfolds entirely in the caverns of the underworld, struggles to maintain the momentum of the first. After somehow escaping the frogs, arriving in Hades, and being treated to a musical number from Pluto, and frolicking with the Dionysians, Dionysus finally encounters George Bernard Shaw and his posse. What follows is a literary debate between Shaw and Shakespeare to determine which of them is best suited to save civilisation. Cleverly performed — with Bart Lambert in a doublet as Shakespeare and Martha Pothen beneath a cotton beard as Shaw — the scene slows the rhythm, and the central narrative begins to feel stretched. And therein lies the central paradox of this production: it’s an echo chamber for the already converted—those of us who truly believe theatre can save society, or at the very least, reflect its flaws with clarity and creativity. For avid theatre-goers, the self-aware nods to the suffering artist, the futility of art in the face of collapse, and the noble absurdity of it all feel like shared winks across the stage. We laugh because we relate, because we’ve been there, backstage and unpaid, believing that the show might actually change something.

But for the uninitiated, or the metaphorical ‘frog’, the message doesn’t land. The satire becomes muddled, the jokes too insular, the moral arc lost in a haze of in-jokes and theatrical indulgence. What remains is clever, occasionally hilarious, but not necessarily enlightening or moving to those outside the creative bubble.