Smoke, Sweat, and the Art of Release: Circa’s Show Me Love Takes Over the Powerhouse

You know a night is headed somewhere interesting when your welcome to the theatre involves dodging low-slung mist from a smoke machine tucked into a concrete car park.

By the time Isaac and I hit the Brisbane Powerhouse foyer on Thursday, the room was already humming with that restless, slightly conspiratorial buzz of an audience that knows a venue takeover is coming, even if no one has the faintest idea where to stand. The front-of-house crew kept us in suspense with classic poise: grab a drink, stay put, and wait for the call.

When it came, the evening discarded regular theatre manners entirely. We were marshalled back out into the night and led directly down into the industrial belly of the building. Down in the haze, Circa’s ensemble and guest performers were already working the crowd at point-blank range—exchanging sharp glances, weaving through the throng, and turning mutual confusion into pure, cheeky anticipation. It felt illicit, playful, and wonderfully unpolished before anyone had even glimpsed a velvet seat.

Then the doors flew open, we slipped inside, and the fuse was lit.

Earlier in the week, when I spoke with Circa’s Artistic Director Yaron Lifschitz, he delivered one of his characteristically wry lines: “I’m only good at doing things that I’m really bad at doing.” Watching the stage detonate from generous seats, the penny dropped. Because Lifschitz doesn't approach physical theatre with the standard, clinical grammar of a gymnast or a traditional choreographer, he doesn't play by their safe rules. He builds calculated physical pressure, loads it with emotional stakes, and lets his performers fly.

What follows is an exhilarating masterclass in control and abandon. This isn’t circus as a parade of isolated party tricks. Bodies hurtle through seamless tumbling runs that leave you wondering about the laws of physics, only to flow straight into towering, multi-tiered human balances that have the entire room holding its breath. Above, the aerial work—spanning vertical ropes and suspended apparatus—trades decorative showiness for sheer muscular audacity. Dancers watching this choreography will spend half the night scratching their heads in pure bewilderment.

Driving every heartbeat of this delirium is DJ Sveta, stationed live in the auditorium and spinning with absolute authority. Her heavy-bass, propulsive underground club sound isn't mere background wallpaper; it’s the engine room of the whole affair, crashing through the space and turning the theatre into a living, breathing dancefloor. Matched with lighting that carves bodies out of the dark one second and submerges them the next, the sensory hit is total.

Both Isaac and I had walked in nursing the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that only a brutal working week can deliver, questioning if we had the steam to make it through. Twenty minutes in, the funk was entirely cured. There is an undeniable alchemy to performance this vital—it grabs you by the collar, wipes the slate clean, and leaves you grinning in the dark.

As for the finale? Wear your good shoes and leave your reserve at the cloakroom. By the final drop, the fourth wall isn’t just broken; it’s completely dismantled, leaving the crowd and the cast bouncing shoulder-to-shoulder in a wave of sweaty, unadulterated joy.

It’s daring, slightly unhinged, and easily one of our cultural highlights of the year. Do not miss it.

Rating: ★★★★★ (10 / 10)

Show Me Love
Circa / Melt Festival
Powerhouse Theatre, Brisbane Powerhouse
119 Lamington Street, New Farm
Season: Closing Saturday 7 November 2026
Final tickets via brisbanepowerhouse.org and melt.org.au.