Reviewed by James Murphy
It’s been more than a century since melodrama ruled the stage, but there’s still something satisfying about seeing good triumph over evil while the audience boos lustily from the stalls.
Adrift in New York (or Her First False Step), written by Addison Aulger and directed by Rose Vallen for the Adelaide Repertory Theatre, leans into that old-fashioned pleasure with gusto. The result is a time capsule of theatre history that still crackles with life if you surrender to its rules.
The story itself, farm-girl Nellie tempted to New York by a scoundrel and later redeemed through love and loyalty, isn’t the point. What matters is the form. Melodrama demands exaggeration, visible morality, and audience complicity.
Vallen’s direction understands those conventions completely. Every hand pressed to a forehead, every gasp, every piano sting lands exactly where it should. The tone winks at the audience without tipping into mockery.
Teagan (TJ) Baker’s Nellie and Luke Foale’s heroic Jack look as though they’ve stepped straight from a silent film frame, all open faces and noble postures. Dylan Haar’s villainous Sir Francis “Desperate” Desmond twirls his moustache, flaps his cape and bumps his belly with such enthusiasm that the boos come naturally.
Veterans Jude Hines, Lindy Le Cornu, and Penni Hamilton-Smith work the crowd like vaudeville pros. Le Cornu’s comic Balloon Dance with Mike Leach almost steals the show.
A few of the male supporting players turn their dials slightly too high or too low, but that’s part of the genre’s wild charm rather than a flaw of effort.
The atmosphere begins before the curtain rises. The Adelaide Hills Ukulele Collective warms the crowd with old favourites. Sandy McMenamin’s piano keeps the action underscored with period jingles and dramatic flourishes.
Lyrics in the program invite sing-alongs, which is closer to a Massaoke night than traditional theatre, and the audience obliges.
One older couple near me embodied the mood: he shouted a cheeky remark at the villain, she rapped him playfully on the head, and his eyes crinkled through the next scene. That shared mischief is the show’s real success.
Design is simple but effective: painted flats evoke the ‘Old Homestead’ and the Bowery honky-tonk, while costumes drawn from the Rep’s storied wardrobe sparkle with authenticity.
Is it dated? Of course. But soap operas, reality cooking shows, professional wrestling, and modern politics are each a descendant of this same form. Melodrama distils life into pure black and white: virtue versus villainy, purity versus corruption.
In an era of online outrage and moral grandstanding, that simplicity feels oddly familiar and, perhaps, cleansing.
Adrift in New York isn’t an intellectual workout. It’s theatre as communal play, a reminder that sometimes it’s healthy to boo the bad guy, cheer the hero, and sing along with strangers.
For anyone curious about where popular entertainment came from, or just craving an evening of unashamed fun, this lovingly staged relic more than delivers.
Adrift In New York is presented by Adelaide Repertory Theatre and runs to 22 November at The Arts Theatre. 53 Angas Street Adelaide SA 5000.
