Songs From a Spellbound City is a dark, sweet and utterly engaging piece of theatre. The show’s emotional depth belies the simplicity of its overall premise: charming vignettes featuring the supernatural creatures that inhabit this spellbound city. Each scene – entirely improvised and inspired by a series of audience suggestions offered to Director Brenna Dixon – brings a heartfelt song providing insight into the lives of these dark creatures.

Dixon – also performing as part of the ensemble of players: Hannah Taylor, Kirsty McGuire, Maria Williams, Jeremy Palmer, Austin Harrison and Katherine Weaver – has created a format that has its audience emotionally invested to the extreme. It can be heard in the quiet gasps and sighs amidst touching moments, as well as the raucous applause and celebration that accompanied the triumph of a newly-out troll lesbian coming to the realisation that she is not in need of partnership to validate herself, or a wisened werewolf mentor declaring through song that “…when I turned, I found myself.”

The first scene sets the tone, with two old werewolves in a rage room – one hiding from his son – leading to a hilarious celebration of their werewolf pact. It’s this blend of absurdity and emotional resonance that makes Songs From a Spellbound City so captivating. One striking instance comes when Katherine Weaver’s ghost in a library scene declares, “I’m glad I’m trapped here with you” – an expression of haunting and tender connection.

We see a scene wherein zombies reflect Upon Disney’s Moana, featuring McGuire’s zombie delighted by the “volcano because head open,” while Williams’ zombie sings to the film’s message of inner strength. The songs feel polished, as if meticulously written in advance. 

Dixon’s leadership (and modelling of the format at its best) shines throughout. Her improvised dialogue and lyrics have the depth and thought of a well-pondered script – a truly remarkable performer. The cast deliver the perfect blend of dark humour and heartfelt warmth. “You’re gonna be in hell, but it’s gonna be so worth it” declares Harrison’s wise werewolf, and the audience is entirely on board.

Williams’ skeleton contemplating her omnipresent bully-witch mother (“That’s the experience of having a mother anyway”) is one of the show’s standout moments. The dynamic between light and dark, humour and melancholy, creates a performance that is both grounded and fantastical.

The scenes that steer away from directly addressing the creatures’ supernatural traits are often the most compelling.  

Tech operator Darryn Woods’ command over lighting states transports the audience from dark and eerie carparks to late night dance clubs. The musical talent of the accompanying pianist Criss Grueber cannot be understated, and the improvised collaboration between Criss and the stage cast showcases the mastery of both.

What sets Songs From a Spellbound City apart is its ability to explore deeper themes through lighthearted premises. From sirens lamenting unrequited love on a rooftop to angels debating the fate of souls on a factory line, the show touches on regret, hope and identity in ways that truly lift the spirit.  

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