An experimental blend of monologues, humour, discussion and incredible dance moves – BRED is here to challenge, entertain, amuse and spark conversation.

BRED begins with a warm welcome and casual conversation. The lead performer (and director) chats to the audience as they take their seats, giving some background to the production and what has inspired its creation (with some humour thrown in for good measure). As this happens, the other performers sit behind on the lit stage, stretching their bodies in preparation for the show. It’s a very different beginning to a Fringe performance, creating a safe, resilient and friendly space for the audience and letting them know that their appearance at this show is appreciated. There is a warning, though, that BRED does broach hard topics (racism mainly) and that if anyone feels like they need to leave, that is completely fine – we all know our own boundaries.

Throughout the show, many of the performers speak directly to the audience as the house lights are up, recounting haunting, life-changing moments and even recently experienced, frustrating and confusing acts of racism. BRED isn’t apologetic in dealing with such topics, and nor should it be. This is a predominantly First Nations cast (with a token white ally) and they have the stage – this is their place to say what they want, and for the audience to take it on board and listen. As we are reminded throughout the show, it isn’t an easy topic to talk about or conversation to have, but the more we address it, the more we can move forward and heal together.

The show does, though, also open up a quite literal dialogue with the audience in regards to cultural appropriation, such as blackface and cheap costumes that can be picked up at your local costume store that cheaply depict items from other cultures. Who gets to decide if these are racist? If someone who isn’t white paints a white person’s skin colour a different skin colour – is that racist? The audience is left to have a very open and honest discussion during the show, as well as long after the curtain has dropped. Unfortunately, though, this last bit of the show becomes quite rushed and it feels as though the climax of BRED loses a lot of its power due to running over time and another show starting soon after.

The dance performances within BRED are magical to behold, which is completely unsurprising with the previous standards of talent that Briefs Factory has presented in other shows. The way the performers move their bodies is mesmerising, and is a crucial reminder of the incredible things our bodies are capable of doing (with dedication and training, of course). The dance duet towards the end of the show is especially powerful, as, while their moves are slightly out of synch for some sections, the emotion they capture and precision in their own individual abilities brings the audience to a roaring applause. Another highlight is one of the performer’s interpretive dance movements as she breaks down verbally, and physically with her body, from an objective, scientific point of view what humans are and our place in the world.

BRED is definitely an experience, though it still needs some workshopping, which the host/lead performer and director of the show is raw and honest about with the audience in the beginning. The final cut, though, will be something truly magical to behold. For those looking for escapism or a thoroughly work-shopped production, this may not be the right show, but for audiences who wish to see something a little bit different (and at every Fringe you should aim to open your vision to new things), BRED will delight and challenge.