Imagine a sun-drenched commune where naked Boomers pretend time doesn’t exist, drifting between minor tasks and whimsical ruminations. A couple of hyperconnected Gen Z influencers invade, posting every existential wobble as a creeping bushfire approaches. Welcome to Naturism, a gloriously offbeat, Pythonesque comedy where nudity is not shock value but metaphor, punchline, and philosophical microscope all at once.

If you think this is just another Full Monty gimmick, Ang Collins’ wonderfully unhinged script quickly dispels that. Beneath the laughs and chaos lies a study of who we really are and foreboding environmental themes. Director Declan Greene embraces the silliness with humour and sincerity, letting the humanity breathe and revealing how lost we are in our modern noise.

James Browne’s design perfectly captures this off-grid utopia, with a forest clearing, scattered props, and subtle details. You can smell the earthy bush, hear the hum of insects, and sense the peculiar mix of freedom and tedium that defines life in a commune gradually calcifying into inertia. Nudity functions as both costume and character. The cast brilliantly embraces the quirky repartee and the physical, comic absurdity with conviction, creating a space where we can fully focus on their words and actions. Within five minutes, the nakedness barely registers. Yes, I’ll say it -it feels completely natural.

This commune is crumbling, but its inhabitants remain blissfully in denial. Their leader, Ray (Glenn Hazeldine), spouts hippy platitudes, his dry wit edged with lethargy and just enough hint of guilt beneath the guru mask. Ray’s rigid adherence to the commune’s quasi-cult ‘code of conduct’, known simply as ‘The Thingy’, tips into ridiculous ritual, revealing just how arbitrary the rules really are.

Freedom without purpose is just another form of imprisonment. Sid (Nicholas Brown) drifts through endless menial chores, numb and lulled into a kind of autopilot. Brown nails a quiet, bemused detachment. Going through the motions can be just as soul-sapping as the rat race outside. His partner Helen, played by Hannah Waterman, drifts through paradise, bored stiff, retreating to her craft cave to make hideous hats, while craving a touch of cultural frisson. Waterman shines in some highly theatrical comedic moments, hallucinating on a mushroom trip with a suicidal bee and engaging in a surreal conversation with a giant whipbird, a wild release that somehow feels perfectly natural in this upside-down world.

The generational divide has never been so exposed when the hyperactive, TikTok savvy Adam and Evangeline (get it?) arrive and the commune is jolted into a tumultuous rebirth. It’s Survivor on steroids: a test of wit, nerve, and cunning in a microcosm where old-world idealism collides with hyperconnected frenzy. Evangeline is full of new eco enthusiasm and a crash course in hashtag lingo. Camila Ponte Alvarez perfectly captures a Gen Z desperate to care yet paralysed by endless content and curated social media illusions. Manic, earnest, but deeply addicted to her phone, her withdrawal scene is painfully funny, like a one-person digital exorcism.

The late arrival of Adam (Fraser Morrison) further stirs the communal pot, bringing deadpan charm and precise comedic timing. He plots a musical festival on the commune grounds with whiplike energy, full of zings, meme-speak, and half-baked buzzwords. More plugged into his algorithm than reality, oblivious to the world around him, and fake-woke to a fault, he’s ridiculous, boundlessly hyped on his own empty BS.

By the end, who is right and who is wrong becomes a convoluted mess. You’re left wondering the current generation, set to inherit the terrible state we have left the world in, can spark real change. There is no such thing as a guilt-free utopia. One action, one body, one choice inevitably affects another. Yet Collins offers hope, a catharsis, and a sense of healing for a possible future.

Naturism brilliantly balances absurdity with insight, remaining utterly unpredictable, while the nudity strips away all artifice. It’s a lesson in letting the noise settle, to start listening, to reconnect, and to remember that our smallness is also our strength. For all our posturing, we are fragile creatures trying to feel the sun before the storm. Everyone is faking it, so why not do it naked?

Naturism plays in the Wharf 2 Theatre, Sydney Theatre Company Walsh Bay until 15 November.

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