“…wonderful writing, and top-drawer performance … a must-see show for the memories and reflections it brings back… for the window it offers onto a truly inspiring political craftsman.”
Kenton Stevens
4 Stars or division bells!
Venue: Playhouse, Arts Centre Melbourne
Melbourne
Dates: Until November 1st, 2026
It is difficult, today—watching a play about a transcendent figure in Australian political history, while at this very moment a community tries to make sense of things in the immediate aftermath of an apparent attack on a deeply respected contemporary politician—not to be left wondering about the costs of public life. The sheer courage needed. The trials endured by, and the determination demanded of, those who stand up in our parliaments with the aim of making our society a better place. These costs have always, perhaps necessarily, included disagreement and a degree of criticism. But, they should never include threats, violence or other harms. That our elected representatives, our voices in the chambers of governance, must now reckon with such things tells us much about where we find ourselves in 2026.
Big ideas, vision, compassion, and the confidence and skill to steer change through transformative leadership; these are qualities needed now more than ever by those who would seek to change things for the better, for the many.
The Prime Minister has the floor.
Paul J. Keating. Australia’s 24th Prime Minister. Former Treasurer, and Member for Blaxland. 27 years in the Australian Parliament. A boy from Bankstown in south-western Sydney who engaged in Labor politics from a young age, left school at 14, and rose to make an indelible mark on Australian public life.
Thanks to the wonderful writing, and top-drawer performance, of perhaps Australia’s leading contemporary political satirist, Jonathan Biggins, we are treated to an audience with our former PM. From the opening ice breaker quips that knock out a host of present day political gags, through a carefully curated journey in time—from early days, to political beginnings, to the meat and gravy of high office—we are swept along at pace, and with swagger, through the highs and lows of Mr Keating’s legacy.
I saw this show two or three years ago, and enjoyed it a great deal then. I dare say I enjoyed it even more this evening. Biggins lives Keating. His physical mannerisms, style and presence. Perhaps even more, the cadence and rhythm of his speech, such that if you close your eyes, then just for a moment…
The set (Mark Thompson, lit by Verity Hampson)—a drawing room-come-office filled with heavy wooden furniture, rugs, turntable and vinyl, and a projector and screen (sound and video design by David Bergman)—draws us willingly, eagerly, into some imagined inner sanctum where deals may have been done (or undone!), plans hatched, and speeches practiced, refined and celebrated. For, if walls could talk.
Fortunately, they do.
Biggins gracefully sweeps us through moments we might remember, lifts back a curtain here and there on others we were curious to know more about, throws out caustic and pithy one-liners, and dismisses unworthy political contenders with ne’er a flicker of apology. He shifts between timeline storytelling and stirring memory, annoying meta-theatrical interludes foisted upon him by his producer, inconvenient pre-record phone interviews with the ABC, moments of musical accent, and occasional diversions down memory lane that sometimes delight, and sometimes befuddle, the usually unflappable Keating. All this unfolded within the sure and thoughtful direction of Aarne Neeme.
Of course, those were different times. It was a politics dominated by men. Mostly white men, often older white men. A political dynamic largely devoid of diversity, aside from the long-standing division between left and right. A world that prized sharp words and wit, hard work and time served, cigarette smoke and a stiff drink.
Into these times, though not immune to them, stands Keating. Champion of a European aesthetic. With a keen eye for fine things, like a beautifully crafted French pocket watch from the late-1700s. Music of the great composers coursing through his veins, he parades a wit as sharp and acerbic as the Australian Parliament has ever known. And oratorial skills to match.
And, something else. Vision.
The capacity to see a bigger picture. Where is Arcadia? He may not know, but he’s got a feel for its direction, and he’s prepared to look up and out into the world to try and find it. Not for himself, for all of us.
At Redfern, in Sydney, in December 1992, this Keating flashed before us. Perhaps, shining at his brightest.
“…it was we who did the dispossessing.
We took the traditional lands and smashed the traditional way of life.
We brought the diseases. The alcohol.
We committed the murders. We took the children from their mothers.
We practised discrimination and exclusion.
It was our ignorance and our prejudice.
And our failure to imagine these things being done to us.”
He helped us see things differently, for a moment.
He pressed for a better world. Not ideal, perhaps, but better. Reachable, achievable, if we were all committed to it. It was a politics of hope and imagination. A striving for connection, integrity, and shared value, beyond our differences, that we might all be lifted up.
For anyone who lived through the Australia of the 1980s and ‘90s, this is a must-see show for the memories and reflections it brings back, and the wry smiles it inspires. For anyone born after 1990, this is a must-see show for the window it offers onto a truly inspiring political craftsman (whether you concur with his policies or not). It celebrates. And there is very much in that to enjoy.
I met him once, briefly. In a park in Sydney. A park he helped to create. It was years after parliament. An older man, in an ordinary raincoat, taking a walk on a grey, nondescript day. I said thank you, I didn’t specify for what. For many things, I suppose, too numerous to mention. That was all. The park and the day were his to enjoy as he pleased, he’d earned those things at least.
Kenton Stevens, Theatre Now
