Review: Lé Nør (The Rain) at Heath Ledger Theatre

Lé Nør (The Rain) at Heath Ledger Theatre
Thursday, February 26, 2026

Discarding traditional theatrical conventions, Lé Nør (The Rain) invites the audience to lose themselves in a baffling and beautiful fever dream of faux-foreign film aesthetics. Returning to the State Theatre Centre for the 2026 Perth Festival, the production possesses the distinct, grainy soul of a cult VHS rental—the kind of obscure gem you might have discovered in the world cinema section of a suburban video store or stumbled upon during a late-night SBS broadcast. With its voluminous hair, neon vibes, and the custom-built Sólsetian language, a melodic jumble of Soviet and Scandinavian dialects, the show balances nostalgia and surrealism to deliver an experience that feels entirely familiar despite never having actually existed.

The production is the brainchild of the Perth-based collective The Last Great Hunt. Known for blending high-tech wizardry with lo-fi charm, the company has grown in creative prowess since its formation, and Lé Nør remains one of the finest exponents of their unique artistic vision. While the show first amazed audiences during its world premiere at the 2019 Perth Festival, its return to the State Theatre Centre was the source of much local pride. In an industry so often obsessed with the next big thing, this revival not only offered a fresh wave of festival-goers the chance to witness its technical brilliance but also signalled to other local creators that there truly is support for Perth’s biggest artistic voices.

The unique brilliance of the production lies in its meta-theatrical execution. Lé Nør is ‘live cinema’, a piece where a feature-length film is captured live on stage in real-time before the audience’s eyes. The stage of the Heath Ledger Theatre effectively becomes a living soundstage, where cameras and props criss-cross with the crew in a blur of motion, as the cast’s actions are projected onto a massive screen complete with cinematic framing and English subtitles. The audience is simultaneously watching both the behind-the-scenes process and the finished product, where the construction of the play is of as much importance as its narrative. While there were some tiny glitches apparent, these are to be expected from such a brazenly bold project and took nothing away from the sheer magnitude and excellence of what the troupe brought to the stage.

Guiding us through this crazy busy theatrical soundstage is the on-stage Narrator (Tim Watts), who serves as both master of ceremonies and cheeky observer. Watts is sensational, adeptly bridging the gap between technical stagecraft and the emotional ebb and flow of the narrative. If anything, there is almost too much going on at the top of the show, but Watts proves a calming, guiding force as he brings the drought-stricken island nation of Sólset and its slew of characters online. The decision not to simplify the narrative or backstories is commendable; even if it risks overwhelming the viewer, it demonstrates the company’s commitment to their vision and their faith in the audience.

Beneath the technical veneer lies a tender, human pulse. The story centres on the residents of a single apartment block, with newcomer Xander (Adriane Daff) acting as the audience’s surrogate. Through her eyes, we meet a cast of eccentric locals waiting for the sky to break—from the melancholic Suzette (Jo Morris) pining for a lost lover to the strains of Phil Collins to Inez (Gita Bezard) and Leal (Jeffrey Jay Fowler) navigating the complexities of bringing a new life into a world that is literally drying up. While the script’s absurdity and flippancy occasionally risk making the core themes of isolation feel like a light and fluffy aside, this is ultimately the joy of the play; it is not necessarily supposed to make sense but rather to capture the nostalgic essence of the cult cinema of yesteryear.

In a world of polished digital perfection, there is something deeply moving about the beautiful, manual friction of this production. While it is technically sophisticated, the real charm lies in the sheer artistic inventiveness required to pull the wizardry off. The revival of Lé Nør provided as much a breath of fresh air as it did upon its premiere, demonstrating just how far you can go with a few cameras, a dedicated collective and a wildly vivid imagination.

MICHAEL HOLLICK

Photos by Daniel Grant