Sabrage

Singer Rechelle Mansour also lent her voice early in the evening, and though one number was cut to a chorus, she later returned with full-bodied performances complete with choreography, and here’s where Sabrage really comes into its own. The choreography throughout the show is a feast. Between acts, spotlights catch performers frozen in playful vignettes across the stage and auditorium, filling transitions with wit and glamour. The dancing itself is athletic, slick, and full of circus-trained flourishes, from acrobatic stretches to a hilariously cheeky towel routine.
Novich, delivered a mesmerising solo piece set entirely to sound effects and sound bites, a moment that stole the breath of the room with its inventiveness. Martin, never to be outdone, provided something altogether different: a surreal, risqué routine involving a microphone and his anatomy that had the audience equal parts cringing and cackling.

The second half upped the ante with spectacle for the crowd: bubbles, confetti cannons, even a pillow fight spilling across the audience. (A word to the wise: cover your drink!) The aerial duet by Flynn Miller and Kimberley Bargenquast was a standout, the pair twisting through the air with strength, grace and fearless intimacy, achieving impossible positions while suspended by little more than their feet and trust.

And then there’s the show’s namesake: sabrage. Traditionally, it’s the art of beheading a champagne bottle with a sabre, a flourish popularised by Napoleon’s cavalry. At Sabrage, it is hinted at the start, and though the finale offered only a tamer indoor variation, the symbolism was unmistakable. Every act begins with the audience raising a glass, and by the end the theatre is swimming in bubbles both the liquid and the floating variety. Health and safety may prevent a full Napoleonic flourish, but the spirit of excess and celebration remains intact.