Canberra Reviews

I was fortunate enough to see Mettle twice.

The first was a studio preview at Ainslie and Gorman Arts Centre a week before opening. No costumes. No lighting. No projection. Just a group of young performers, a soundtrack and the work itself.

I left completely captivated. And actually shaking from the joy of the experience – for me that’s a sure sign of something great.

Without the machinery of production surrounding it, the performers held the room through sheer presence. Their commitment was extraordinary, their technical skill undeniable, but more than anything I was struck by the integrity with which they inhabited the work. Every body on stage mattered. Every performer radiated purpose. I couldn't wait to see what would happen when all of the design elements were added.

The finished production at The Vault is still an impressive achievement, but, for me, something shifted.

The visual world is undeniably accomplished. Aleisa Jelbart's costumes brilliantly establish an industrial dystopian landscape somewhere between gorpcore, Y2K grunge and science fiction. I couldn't help thinking of the world inhabited by Eight in Stranger Things – a place of survival, resilience, found identity and heavy black eyeliner. Liam Creswick's visual design expands the emotional landscape through abstract imagery, while the lighting carves the cavernous Vault into an immersive environment.

Yet I found myself longing for the simplicity of the studio.

In the rehearsal room I watched the dancers themselves create the full emotional architecture of the piece. Their bodies contained both darkness and light. In performance, I felt some of those quieter shades became obscured beneath an almost relentless sensory intensity. The sound, in particular, was simply too loud. I enjoy theatre that assaults the senses when there's dramaturgical purpose behind it, but here I found it distracting rather than enhancing. The same emotional impact could have been achieved with greater dynamic range. For some audience members, I suspect it may even become a barrier to engaging with an otherwise remarkable work.

What remained absolutely unwavering, however, was the cast.

The performers – ranging in age from ten to twenty – display a level of commitment many professional companies would die for. Every moment is lived fully. Every transition carries intention. There isn't a weak link in the ensemble.

Importantly, this is also one of the strongest casts Quantum Leap Australia has presented in recent years simply because it is smaller. Each performer is given room to emerge as an individual while contributing to a cohesive whole. Rather than disappearing into a large ensemble, every dancer is afforded moments of genuine visibility.

Which is notable and is what Mettle is ultimately doing.

This isn't a work about young people. It is a work that trusts them.

Today’s generation is often reduced to lazy stereotypes – screen addicted, disengaged, lacking resilience. Alice Lee Holland asks a far more interesting question: where does mettle actually come from? How do young people find courage, discipline and strength while navigating an increasingly unstable world?

The answers aren't delivered through tedious lamentations but through bodies. Through repetition. Through exhaustion. Through perseverance.

The work sustains a high level of intensity for much of its running time, making its closing movement all the more affecting. As bodies soften into breath, slower movement and gentle connection, the piece quietly proposes another understanding of strength. Perhaps resilience isn't simply enduring hardship. Perhaps it is learning when to soften, when to breathe, when to care for ourselves while continuing to move forward.

It's a deeply generous ending.

More broadly, Mettle feels like a landmark work for Quantum Leap Australia.

Under Alice Lee Holland's artistic leadership, the company appears increasingly willing to treat young artists as genuine collaborators rather than simply talented students. Their ideas, questions and lived experience shape the work from within. The result feels contemporary, urgent and artistically ambitious.

This is precisely the kind of work our major cultural institutions should be championing. It deserves audiences beyond Canberra. It deserves national touring, international festival conversations and continued investment.

Because if Mettle demonstrates anything, it is that the future of Australian contemporary performance is already here.

And it is in exceptionally capable hands.