
Don’t panic, Cats fans. I’m not about to scratch out the amber eyes of one of the most wildly popular stage productions of this or any other century (and don’t for a moment think that’s going to be the last feline pun in this review).

It is 1967, in small-town Queensland, the sort of quaint country backwater scriptwriters use to justify oddballs and loveable simpletons.

Fidelio is a dark, dour work. We are drawn into the murky shadows, squinting almost to make out the politically persecuted left to rot in their underground hell.

Kath Walker, or Oodgeroo Noonuccal as the aboriginal poet and activist would later reclaim as her name, found herself on a hijacked plane in Tunisia in 1974.

While the motley crew had little in common, they all delivered laughs in a thoroughly entertaining two-hour gig.

While it may not be the most original idea, Sammy J in the Forest of Dreams is as riotous and spectacular a comedy gig as you're likely to see.
