Equus (KXT) ★★★★

Written by Peter Shaffer. Daniel Cottier Productions in association with Bakehouse Theatre. KXT on Broadway. 21 Aug – 5 Sep, 2026.

Sex, religion, violence, horses – Peter Shaffer’s Equus throws all the things you’re not supposed to talk about at dinner parties (well, other than horses, they’re usually safe territory) into a psycho-drama that bucks at the numbing effect of modernity. The new staging at KXT on Broadway reframes the story through a more explicitly queer and body-focused lens that results in some unexpected shifts.

Psychiatrist Martin Dysart (J. James-Moody) is sent to see a troubled 17-year-old, Alan Strang (Ryan Yeates), who has blinded six horses in one night. As he tries to uncover the roots of the boy’s mental distress he unravels a complex psychology that has transfigured teenage faith and sex into a dangerously twisted brew. But can he help Alan live a “normal” life? What does that even mean? And why is Dysart jealous of this complicated, broken boy?

Director/Designer Brockman has taken Shaffer’s exploration of worship/fetishisation and amplified it into a full-throated, kink-forward affair. Dark and monochromatic, pulsing dance music, the stage is part night-club, part sex club, part nightmare. In place of the traditional horse-mask, the actor playing Nugget (Shalamah Tautaiolefue) is given a gimp mask. Alan’s devotion to Equus is no longer psycho-sexually fraught, it is a fully-embodied sexual awakening with disturbing shades of abuse. It’s a bold, all-encompassing vision that gives this Equus a fresh frisson of excitement. It’s not subtle, but as Dysart himself says, “Extremity’s the point.”

This is Brockman as full auteur, reshaping the text as boldly as the visuals. The biggest, most obvious change is the reframing of Nugget — replacing the traditionally muscled performer with, as Brockman describes it, “a fat, queer body,” approaching the themes of body and eroticism through a new lens.

And that skews the story in interesting ways. Shaffer’s text has always been a complex web of deep-rooted neurosis and competing compulsions, and this addition layers in new subtext that threatens to overcomplicate an already dense narrative. But for those invested in the story, it proves additive rather than disruptive.

James-Moody gives an outstanding performance as Dr Dysart, the conflicted psychiatrist suffering his own personal crisis. Dysart’s closeted sexuality, dealt with obliquely in the text, is made overt in his constant watching of Stephen Madsen as the Nurse. The beauty of the intimate KXT space is you can watch every thought and emotion flash across his face, the centrepiece of the whole story. In a thrilling alteration, Brockman has Dysart speak some of his closing dialogue, not to Alan, but to a shivering Nugget, drawing a fresh connection in the text that opens up the character of Dysart in new ways.

As the dangerous teen Ryan Yeates brings a much stronger sense of self-awareness to Alan Strang’s attempts at manipulation that highlight his innate intelligence. It shifts the character from a sense of “tormented innocence” into one of complicit guilt. This is Alan Strang as an incel whose sexuality is suppressed and twisted by a broken understanding of faith.

While this is by no means a definitive production of Equus, this is a confident, bold revisioning. It’s exciting to see a text be reconsidered with such a clarity – mining it for new angles. For me it wasn’t 100% successful, but the ambition is the thing. This is what Sydney theatre needs more of and marks Brockman as a director of note.