You know you’re watching something exciting when you sit there thinking: what the hell is happening? Where is this going, and why does it feel so dangerous and so thrilling and so… defiantly weird? Ride the Cyclone at the Eternity Playhouse hits like a live wire — strange, kinetic, and instantly arresting.

Six teenagers die in a rollercoaster crash and wake in an afterlife run by a glowing robot showman, while a live band turns purgatory into a cabaret talent show. Yes, you read that right — and that’s only the beginning. Born in the tiny Canadian chaos‑lab Atomic Vaudeville, this fantastical musical became a cult hit for a reason — and CODA’s staging keeps every drop of its anarchic pulse intact. They don’t just dabble in the surreal; they commit with full‑body confidence. But beneath the madness, it’s asking the questions we spend a lifetime dodging, the ones that surface only after a loss, a shock, a moment that forces clarity. It’s trippy, it’s tender, and it dives straight into those truths with theatrical curiosity.

The intricately layered set design by Kathryn Smith feels like a cross between a Scooby‑Doo‑style macabre spiegeltent and steampunk grunge, anchored by a centre‑ring revolve handled with striking finesse, proving exactly how good design can drive storytelling. Superbly mounted, flickering projections of childhood footage play across the scrim, revealing slices of each teenager’s life as they step forward to tell their story.

The five piece band pulses with grit, bass and a neon heartbeat. You most likely won’t know the songs going in, but they’re sharply written and dangerously catchy. Under Benjamin Olivera’s musical direction, the score leaps from pop‑rock to rap‑rock to operatic ballad to vaudeville pastiche — with a Slavic folk detour for good measure. It’s a character‑driven score that makes you want to dance or sit still and let it knock the wind out of you.

Director Kris Sergi keeps the cast tight while unleashing the emotional stakes as each teen makes their pitch for a second chance at life. Beneath the mayhem is precision — tuned harmonies, razor‑clean characterisation, and snappy choreography that lands with joy. Despite the whimsy — or perhaps because of it — you find yourself genuinely investing in every character. The cast simply exceptional.

Kayla Ingle-Olson, who I’ve adored since she obliterated “The I Love You Song” in UNSW’s Spelling Bee, nails Ocean’s mix of high intensity – high achieving pageant‑queen righteousness — and wow, can she time‑step and drop into the splits. Riley Druce tears into Mischa, the wannabe Slavic gangster with a soft centre, giving him swagger, bluster and poised ridiculousness. Rapping in the afterworld has never looked so cool.

Kavisha Karunarathna brings Constance, the real nicest people‑pleaser in town, to life with some feels that sneaks up on you. When she hits “Sugarcloud”, she cracks wide open — all the swallowed hurt, all that longing to finally take up space. It’s magical when her voice lets loose — a sudden, soaring release that feels almost alchemical. Liam Faulkner-Dimond is Ricky, the dreamer lost in his own universe — gentle, imaginative, and proudly devoted to his sexy space‑opera cat obsession. He plays Ricky with such open‑hearted, quirky sweetness you can’t help falling for him — we’ve all got an inner fantasy nerd waiting to burst out.

Brock Cramond gives us Noel, the theatre‑kid diva aching for glamour and somewhere — anywhere — to finally… ahem… plug in his laptop. And in that smoky French cabaret red corset act? Steaming! Legs for days and extra sassy attitude to match.

Natalie Patterson gives us Jane Doe, the nameless ghost searching for a self. It’s a tricky role — because, well, spoiler alert, she was decapitated. She leans into a marvellous Wednesday‑Addams‑meets‑creepy‑doll energy. Then she sings “You Will Still Be Here Tomorrow” floating on some impossible high lines with a purity that feels almost unearthly.

And then there’s Michael Haratzis as The Amazing Karnak. Fortune‑teller, gatekeeper and resident robot, serving such committed robo‑showman realness I genuinely checked for breathing. His eyes flicker to blue to punctuate each perfectly timed quip, delivered in a deliciously deadpan monotone distinctly reminiscent of BOX from Logan’s Run. He is delightfully disturbing and strange enough to make the purgatory hum.

Luminous, uncanny, mischievous — Ride the Cyclone is a bonkers musical mixtape with heart and existential glitter. And before you get a chance to clock it, the pathos goes straight for the goolies. Identity isn’t fixed, reinvention is real, and even the afterworld offers a last shot at honesty. Then – wham — it pivots again, hurtling into fresh absurdity as CODA sends it roaring out of the fairground. Grab a ticket and buckle up. It’s a heck of a ride.

Ride the Cyclone plays at The Eternity Playhouse Darlinghurst until 30 May.

Please note that some performances may feature the following alternates:

• Rachel Patty Baker as Ocean O’Connell‑Rosenberg
• Belle Doubleday as Jane Doe
• Claire Garment as Constance Blackwood
• Michael Sun as Ricky Potts
• Elijah Williams as Noel Gruber
• Daniel Walsh as Mischa Bachinski
• Thomas Bradshaw as The Amazing Karnak

For tickets and information see: https://events.humanitix.com/coda-ride-the-cyclone