As the lights dim, the stage shimmers alive with Sydney’s seduction. Emerald City is a masterful satire, and this production, by Ensemble Theatre, has it all. From a projected Harbour to slick suits, polished egos, and, at the heart of course, a razor-sharp script by David Williamson. I’m no Grandmaster, but for me, watching Emerald City was like watching a game of chess. Every piece is ambitious, every move ruthless, and every punchline hits uncomfortably close to home. This isn’t nostalgia; it’s a mirror, and it reflects sharply.
Emerald City first premiered in 1987 and has long held its place as one of the most iconic plays in Australian theatre. Williamson drew directly from his own move from Melbourne to Sydney – Australia’s great cultural rivalry – and the tension between integrity and success in the arts. This new production, directed by Mark Kilmurry, perfectly balances these two tensions and reminds us just how prescient the play still is. In this country today, we still continue to grapple with questions of creative autonomy and commercial seduction.
The plot centres on Colin (Tom O’Sullivan), a once-acclaimed screenwriter whose recent flops have him craving a comeback. He drags his sceptical wife Kate (Rachel Gordon), a principled and politically minded author, from Melbourne to Sydney in pursuit of industry sparkle and career resurrection.
Soon, Colin finds himself tangled in a morally murky world of money, influence, and illusion – largely thanks to the energetic Mike McCord (Matt Minto), a wanna-be writer who represents everything Colin claims to resist. Alongside them orbits Helen (Aisha Aidara), a charming socialite with a fierce sense of self, Elaine (Danielle Carter), Colin’s old producer, and Malcolm (Rajan Velu), a businessman that Colin and Mike work with.
This production moves like a current under Sydney Harbour – it’s fast, glossy, and occasionally dangerous. Williamson’s dialogue crackles, and Kilmurry’s direction keeps the tempo high without sacrificing depth. I left the theatre feeling like I’d witnessed something as smart as it was scathing.
The cast deserves praise across the board, but it’s Tom O’Sullivan’s Colin who anchors the show. He balances arrogance and insecurity with equal finesse, making him both maddening and sympathetic. Rachel Gordon as Kate is the moral compass we cling to, delivering moments of quiet clarity amid the chaos.
As Mike McCord, Matt Minto is an absolute scene-stealer. He bursts onto the stage with bravado and charm; his laugh gets under your skin. He is the human embodiment of Sydney’s flashy promise, and like the city, he’s both dazzling and dangerous.
Aisha Aidara’s Helen is graceful, grounded and magnetic, revealing layers of vulnerability beneath the glamour.
Dan Potra’s set, costume, and video design create a crisp, hyper-modern version of the 1980s: part nostalgia, part now. The shifting skyline projections on the sectioned film backdrop create a world where appearances matter, where art can be bought and sold.
Morgan Moroney’s lighting and Madeleine Picard’s sound design round it out with cinematic precision, elevating each scene change into something as stylish as a scene from a high-budget TV drama.
There’s something deeply satisfying about seeing Williamson’s characters still stumble through the same questions creatives face today. Do we chase the money, or the meaning? Can art survive in a market economy? And is it possible to succeed without selling out? These questions, still unanswered, are what keep Emerald City feeling alive.
Ensemble Theatre’s production of Emerald City is a glittering satire with bite, brains, and just the right amount of heartbreak. Whether you’re a Sydney loyalist, a Melbourne purist, or someone stuck between the two, this play will speak to you – and maybe even sting a little.
Emerald City runs to 23 August at Ensemble Theatre, 78 McDougall Street Kirribilli NSW 2061.
Tickets: https://www.ensemble.com.au/shows/emerald-city/
Website: https://www.ensemble.com.au/
Socials: https://www.instagram.com/ensembletheatre/
Photo credits: Phil Erbacher
