REVIEW: Gia Ophelia
- Ashlyn Hunter
- 5 days ago
- 3 min read
Having previously made waves at the Sydney Fringe, Gia Ophelia has now been brought to the KXT stage. There is always something uniquely visceral about the KXT Bakehouse; the intimacy of the space demands honesty, and that is exactly what this production delivers. The performance feels less like a formal piece of theatre and more like a close conversation with a friend. It is simple, reflective, and devastatingly emotional.
We follow ‘Gia’ (Annie Stafford), a struggling Sydney actor who is treading the familiar and frantic tightrope that is the Aussie acting industry. She is caught in the crosshairs of a modern feminine dilemma as she approaches ‘the dreaded 30s’; a time that represents a turning point for her. The biological clock is ticking louder and louder, and the “we’ll talk about it later” evasions no longer seem to work as time has actually ticked over into ‘later’. Funny how that happens.
‘Gia’ delves into the pressure of having to settle down versus the hunger of a career that hasn’t quite gotten off the ground yet. It’s a provocative exploration of what it means to be a woman in the arts. Or just being a woman, really. As we learn her issues with fertility, we witness the grief of a life she never actually got to choose. Alongside a deep yearning for a choice at all as she explores the depths of feeling like a failed woman.
The strength of a one-woman show rests entirely on the performer’s shoulders, and Stafford’s use of physicality is nothing short of amazing. I’ve found that solo shows can often struggle with the "ghost" characters, but here, Stafford shifts her vocal timbre and physical stance with such precision that the stage feels populated by a full ensemble. There is a comical, easy-going nature to the delivery that lulls the audience into a sense of comfort. Especially with an audience largely comprised of actors and artists alike, there was a collective sigh of recognition in the room. We understood the specific ache of wanting to "live through art" while the biological clock and the bank account loom in the background.
For me, the play hits a height when it tackles motherhood. A topic full of grief, nuance, and a complexity that I find rarely gets much breathing room to be discussed. Grace Wilson’s writing perfectly captures the distraught, personal moments of ‘Gia’s’ life that feels both singular to her and universal to many women in the room. I know it definitely captured me. I appreciate being able to delve into the complexity of wanting the choice of children at all. The idea of grief for a life you never got to choose is incredibly real and incredibly devastating. Whether you would have chosen it or not, it should have been your choice.
The emotional heavy lifting of this production is supported by Holly Nesbitt’s lighting design. Rather than bursting through, I found that it bathes the performer in specific hues and spotlights that nurture the intimate nature of the story. It feels curated to aid the narrative, shifting the mood just enough to signal ‘Gia’s’ internal transitions without breaking the spell of her storytelling. Under the glow of this lighting design, ‘Gia’s’ story feels less like a performance and more like a private confession.
Ultimately, Gia Ophelia is a love letter (and a bit of a warning) to anyone trying to balance the demands of the soul with the societal pressures of motherhood and infertility. It is also a striking reminder that the "struggling actor" trope isn't just a cliché; it is a lived experience of intense vulnerability. This performance is a reclamation of the right to be lost, and I would highly recommend it!
