“Canberra Youth Theatre delivers a sharp, surreal, and gut-punchingly funny exploration of teenage labour under capitalism’s greasy thumb.”
Fiona Hallenan-Barker
4.5 Stars
Venue : Rebel Theatre ATYP
Sydney
Dates: Touring
There’s something uniquely thrilling about watching an actor attempt the impossible on stage, even more so when they pull it off while balancing a slushie, shouting over a deep fryer, and diving into a plastic ball pit. InWork, But This Time Like You Mean It, Canberra Youth Theatre delivers a sharp, surreal, and gut-punchingly funny exploration of teenage labour under capitalism’s greasy thumb.
Written by Honor Webster-Mannison and imaginatively directed by Luke Rogers, this absurdist black comedy takes place in a fast-food purgatory; equal parts nightmare and nostalgia. It’s a world where the fluorescent lights never turn off, the orders never stop, and the workers slowly lose grip on their youth, identity, and even their bodies.
The setting? A fluorescent, plasticky hellscape built around a giant red slippery dip that plunges into a monstrous yellow ball pit. The brilliant design by Kathleen Kershaw mimics a grotesquely cheerful chip packet. It’s all big colour and bold noise, but underneath it: a deep existential ache.
The script is deceptively clever, Webster-Mannison brings their own style and is a unique voice in the Australian theatre landscape. What initially presents as chaotic workplace banter soon morphs into something stranger and more profound. Characters loop through scenes like shift workers trapped in a Beckettian eternity, the dialogue folding in on itself with rhythms that echo Caryl Churchill’s overlapping voices, laced with Sarah Kane’s raw, unflinching despair.
The cast of eight young performers from Canberra Youth Theatre is nothing short of outstanding. What is missing rhythmically in the play is made up for by an abundance of energy and belief in telling shared stories. Whether it’s Georgie Bianchini starting out wide-eyed, Emma Piva stylishly running late, Matthew Hogan romping through chaos with chicken tenders, or Blue Hyslop delivering hallucinogenic monologues, each actor commands the stage. Quinn Goodwin, Hannah Cornelia, and Sterling Notley bring beautiful moments of quiet vulnerability, while Kathleen Dunkerley oscillates between quiet rage and performative cheerfulness. Under Luke Rogers’ sharp and imaginative direction, every performer shines individually, yet the storytelling remains tight, dynamic, and cohesive.
Amidst the absurdity, a few moments hit with emotional clarity such as a young boy wondering if the last time he will feel like a kid was on a train with his mum, her hand gently brushing his hair. These small moments of tenderness cut through the comedy with real emotional weight. The show’s climax jolts the audience out of repetitious absurdity and straight into brutal reality. It’s a reminder that beneath the zany humour and fast-food satire lies a very real critique: young people are being exploited, chewed up, and spat out by systems that tell them to smile, serve, and be grateful for it. Ethan Hamill’s lighting and video design elevates the surreal energy of the piece. Sometimes pulsing with intensity, sometimes offering brief visual relief from the sensory overload. Patrick Haesler’s sound design buzzes with tension and underscores the mounting chaos beautifully.
Yes, there is a psychedelic chicken dance. Yes, the repetition of shift work stretches time and sense until you’re questioning your own grip on reality. And yes, by the end, watching members of the cast eat actual hot chips is nauseating. That’s the point. Work, But This Time Like You Mean It is a rallying cry disguised as a fever dream. It questions why we accept low-value work for young people as a rite of passage. It asks why teenage labour is valued at half the rate of adults, even when the physical and emotional toll can be just as high, if not higher.
This is the kind of theatre young people should be seeing and making. Smart, subversive, and unafraid to go deep into the fryer, Work But This Time Like You Mean doesn’t just entertain; it challenges, it mourns, and it demands better. Canberra Youth Theatre has a strong history of producing exceptional new work created by young people for young people. With any luck, this production will tour to more capital cities, reaching the wider audiences it deserves.
Fiona Hallenan-Barker, Theatre Now
4.5 chicken nuggets
