The beauty of the Hayes theatre, Sydney’s home for boutique musical theatre, is also its greatest challenge: the space is tiny. With Broadway-sized ambitions and a seating capacity of just 110, the works that flourish here are those that are adapted to a more intimate scale – keeping the razzle dazzle, but bringing the humanity of the actors to the fore. You can count every bead of sweat and read each face; you have to go deep as well as broad to really make a Hayes show sing.
The Producers, directed by Julia Robertson for Joshua Robson Productions (frequent Hayes collaborators), goes broad but not deep. The zingy Mel Brooks comedy follows Broadway producer Max Bialystock (Anton Berezin, blustering and bullish) fresh off a string of flops. When accountant Leo Bloom (Des Flanagan, charming and with a distinct hint of Matthew Broderick in his voice) shows up to take on the books, he muses that it would be easy to profit off a musical failure by overselling investments. This is music to Bialystock’s ears, and Bloom ends up as his partner in crime. They find what they’re sure is the worst show in the world (a fair bet, given it’s called Springtime for Hitler), and set out to make themselves a massive payday.
Berezin and Flanagan have an easy rapport, and they hit the famous lines fans of the musical or Brooks’ 1967 movie might be looking for, but there’s nothing between them to chew on; their late conflict and its sweet resolution feels emptier than you’d hope. These characters – anxious, hopeful, hopeless, desperate, wanting – are the stuff of great drama. It would be nice to have seen a little more of it – sometimes more emotional heft and more investment in the stakes of the plot can help the laughs land harder.
Robertson revels in the joyousness of satire, her production rolling around in scene-stealing moments of silliness. It’s all big, like the gag show marquees that dot the walls of Nick Fry’s modular set, many intact from the original film (Death of a Salesman on Ice, She Stupps to Conquer) and the prolonged line deliveries designed to get a laugh. Even Osibi Akerejola’s music direction leans into bombast and volume to help sell the laughs. And you really do see the cast sweat, thanks to Shannon Burns’ witty, space-defying choreography.
If there’s a touch of anxiety in the audience, it’s understandable: when a constellation of swastika flags fall from the ceiling, and the cast sieg heils, the image is not as far-fetched in 2025 as it should be.
Leaning so hard on silliness in such a small space results in more spectacle than bite. Still, there’s a lot to enjoy. Robertson’s productions ensure supporting roles are given just as much time, space and lighting to make a mark as the leads. Here, it’s even more essential: Bialystock and Bloom are holding down all the spectacle and it’s the rest of the cast who get to show their teeth.
Alexandra Cashmere takes the typical (and now painfully dated) Hot Swedish Girl role of Ulla and plays her with such a commitment to weirdness that you never doubt she’s a full and complete person – it’s a bright and brilliant performance. Blake Erickson is a fantastic Roger De Bris, the director who steps into the title role at the last minute, and Mikey Sakinofsky offers a new take on Carmen Ghia, De Bris’s “common-law assistant”. Together, they freshen up the now-tired queer stereotypes baked into their roles. As Franz Liebkind, the writer who wants to see Hitler’s so-called good name restored, Jordan Shea – returning to the stage after a decade writing plays – gives the character’s intentions the respect they deserve (none) with a well judged and lovingly stupid approach.
But when the depth is in the deep bench of supporting roles – and the full ensemble are excellent – but lacking in the star duo, the end result feels less like a show for the Hayes and more like a show bent to fit within it.
The Producers is on at the Hayes theatre until 27 April, then Riverside theatres, Parramatta 13-16 May.
