Bleachers | Sprung Dance Theatre
Images: Jade Ellis
A work that emerges from the spaces, places, and connections created by two sets of tiered bench seats in myriad configurations, Bleachers is a nuanced exploration of our complicated relationship with belonging. Sprung Dance Theatre’s ensemble of nine moves us through the worlds created by the shifting attachments of these two metal structures, pushed and pulled around the space as though in a bleacher ballet of their own.
Bleachers centres this recognisable form, creating an immediate depth of association for us as audience members, as we each bring a lifetime of swimming carnivals, football matches, community hall eisteddfods, late-night after-school antics, and all those other moments we’ve found our bodies in relation to this steady structure. Set designers Charlotte Haywood and Ed Horne’s rich imagery is where the work begins, meeting us at the familiar, reminding us of the forgotten, and then, gradually, redefining what it can mean to be in communion (and in loneliness) at this place.
There is a declaration at the outset of Bleachers, projected directly onto the structure before a body has even made contact with it; a series of statements that begins with “this is not a bleacher” and ends with the decree “we make the rules”. Through this, we’re invited to reframe our assumptions and prompted to deconstruct the image before us as we prepare for its recreation as a new place of the performers' making. The echo of these statements ripples across the entire piece, reflected in the symbiotic relationship between the bleachers and the performers as they move through and around each other with grace, humour, and tenderness. This relationship feels like an interrogation of the way we create and transform the spaces we inhabit through “rules”, not so much as a fixed set of guidelines (or seating arrangements) but as an ongoing, often invisible act of placemaking. Through the intimacy and vulnerability of the ensemble, belonging emerges as something active: a poignant reminder that we all need spaces where we can make the rules, together.
Images: Jade Ellis
Images: Jade Ellis
Evocative lighting design by Rich Morrod amplifies this sentiment, expertly navigating the work through darker territory into the shadow of belonging, where alienation and loneliness can take root. Bleachers sits inside this tension, between the comfort of togetherness and the exclusion it can quietly produce, asking how we might honour our desire for spaces where we feel safe, connected, and seen, without letting our own fear of alienation curdle into self-protective othering. It’s a true pleasure to watch the ensemble step into this dichotomy in real time, holding each other with undeniable chemistry, skill, and respect.
Supporting this movement, and shaping the space as much as the bleachers themselves, is Anna Whitaker's score, which fizzes in the oscillation between the familiar and the surprising - building raves from bench seats, poetry from repetition, and honouring the silences of Deaf led scenes consciously performed without music. These silences are framed in program notes by director Daniele Constance and assistant director Katie Cooper-Wares as opportunities to explore Deaf ways of experiencing the world through movement and visual language. Decisions such as this reflect a work championing disability-led practice, entirely conceived and created by the Sprung ensemble, whose lived experience and perspective haven't just informed the work but built it, from the ground up. That same principle of access and authorship built in from the start, not added after, runs through every layer of the work.
Images: Jade Ellis
Bleachers is a masterclass in embedded access, a salient reminder that true inclusion is a way of working and of making that is not just accessible, but elevates the collision of dance and theatre, and of live performance in general. The integration of captions, projected onto a retractable built-in bleacher ‘screen’, extends the set design as the written text becomes a performer in its own right. Interpreters Alison Toft and Stuart Currie step in and out of the space as unified ensemble members, amplifying the physical score of Auslan alongside the performers. For a company like Sprung, who create opportunities for diverse minds and bodies to make art, this feels neither new nor revolutionary - it is actually the rest of the industry and our continued inability to honour this embedded way of working that should feel the weight of catching up. Even speaking about this as its own paragraph feels like a disservice: these are not just features of the work but integral foundations of it, manifestations of a commitment to creative experiences that are welcoming for artists and audiences alike.
Describing itself as an exploration of our human desire to be part of something - which really just cuts to the core of what we’re all doing here - Bleachers reminds me of why dancing in a kitchen at 2am with the people you love can feel like the best thing in the world. It’s a vital and moving piece of work, the creative outcome of an accomplished group of collaborators challenging assumptions about who gets to take up space on our stages. If you like a gut punch that leaves you feeling hopeful, this one's for you.
Bleachers plays 16-19 September at the Brisbane Powerhouse’s Underground Theatre as part of the 2026 Brisbane Festival.
Images: Jade Ellis
