Even on one of Melbourne’s wettest nights, Spiegel Haus was full. Inside, the energy was up and pumping, perhaps the first indication that Briefs: The Works thrives on contrast. Outside, Melbourne was cold and soaking; inside, things were about to get considerably hotter.
The show begins relatively low and slow, almost allowing the audience to settle into the room before an early comedic act cracks it open. From there, restraint is largely abandoned, and the night moves between circus, drag, burlesque, comedy and moments of complete absurdity.
Holding it all together is Fez Faanana as Shivannah, commanding the room while allowing everything around him to feel wonderfully chaotic. Speaking to Melbourne Insider, Faanana reveals just how considered that apparent chaos is.
“Knowing the show inside and out is an important part of the job,” he says. “We invite the audience to be blatantly responsive and reactive. As the host, reading and misreading the audience is constant.”
But what struck me most about The Works was its use of juxtaposition.
There is nudity, plenty of it – yet there are moments when you almost stop noticing it. One moment, a completely nude performer is making a cocktail in a scene so unexpectedly absurd that the room erupts in laughter; the next, you’re watching a performer swallow a sword or manipulate fire with extraordinary control.
It’s this constant juxtaposition – nudity against skill, sensuality against danger, beauty against the completely unhinged – that makes The Works so compelling. The show can make you laugh at the human body in one moment and marvel at its capabilities in the next.
Faanana confirms that this balance is intentional.
“The art forms that we engage are rooted in spectacle, danger and humour,” he says. “Circus, drag and burlesque are the chosen creative language of Briefs.”
The fire act is particularly sensational – sensual and chic, yet carrying an unmistakable sense of danger. Elsewhere, an artist can remove their clothes before your attention shifts entirely to the extraordinary physical skill unfolding in front of you. The nudity stops being the spectacle; the body and what it is capable of becomes the spectacle.
And just as the show threatens to become too serious, someone gives a look.
That may be one of its cleverest recurring devices. Across the cast, a stare held for a second too long, an exaggerated expression or perfectly timed reaction can crack the room up. There is a shared comic language between the performers that keeps puncturing the spectacle with humour. Faanana describes it as part of an identity Briefs Factory has developed over 18 years – an “irreverent approach which is classical Aussie”.
For all the X-rated moments, danger and provocation, however, The Works ultimately feels like escapism.
“Escapism is definitely one of the powerful outcomes that theatre can provide,” Faanana says. “We encourage our audiences to undo their seatbelts and to surrender to a night out with Briefs.”
On a cold, soaking Melbourne night, a packed Spiegel Haus did exactly that.
Leave your worries outside. Inside, Briefs: The Works is sexy, technically astonishing, hilarious and gloriously unhinged.
