Your browser window currently does not have enough height, or is zoomed in too far to view our website content correctly. Once the window reaches the minimum required height or zoom percentage, the content will display automatically.
Alternatively, you can learn more via the links below.
Melbourne’s Pentridge Prison still holds powerful memories for many thousands of people.
The prison’s towering bluestone walls were an imposing presence in Coburg, and almost all Melburnians have a story to tell about this notorious place.
My own connection to Pentridge dates from 1982, when I was 18 years old. At that time the prisoners in A Division had a theatre group called the Mess Hall Players. That year, they were putting on One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, an extremely powerful play set in a 1960s psychiatric institution in the US. There were several female roles in the play, and I was one of three young women who joined the theatre group to act alongside the prisoners.
We went into A Division every day for four months to rehearse and then perform the play. Over that time, we got to know the prisoners well and learned a lot about their lives and conditions inside. We saw them first and foremost as our fellow actors and almost forgot where we were until it came time to leave each evening, the heavy metal gates of A Division clanged shut behind us.
The play ran for five weeks, with audiences of about 200 people each night. It was a very professional production and got fantastic reactions from the public.
The most memorable performance for me was opening night, always a nerve-wracking time for the cast and crew. As per tradition, the audience that evening were the other A Division prisoners. We’d never met them as they were already locked in when we arrived for rehearsals each afternoon. But the guys in the theatre group had obviously been telling them about us, and they were very excited about finally seeing us.
The lights came up for the opening scene and my fellow actress and I walked out onto the stage, completely unprepared for the reaction our entrance would provoke. The guys in the audience went wild – clapping, whistling, yelling and stomping their feet. The whole stage was shaking and we couldn’t hear a word of the lines we were saying. We forged ahead, but it was a pretty dramatic first few minutes.
In the final scene, the main character, McMurphy – a loud, confident and rebellious inmate – has been brought back to his room after being lobotomised. His friend, Chief Bromden, knowing McMurphy would rather die than be reduced to this state, decides to smother him with a pillow.
During this scene, every single man in the audience was absolutely silent. There was not a single sound in the entire theatre. And although the noise at the start of the play had been pretty impressive, that silence at the end was truly overwhelming. All these years later, the memory still gives me goosebumps.
While the Mess Hall Players, A Division and Pentridge are now history (Pentridge closed in 1997), plays are still being performed in prisons. I recently saw a performance of The Sky Chose Me at the Dame Phyllis Frost Centre in Melbourne. Somebody’s Daughter Theatre worked with the women to create and perform this moving, funny, thought-provoking play and the art exhibition that accompanied it.
Somebody’s Daughter Theatre has worked with women in Victorian Prisons and post-release to create theatre, visual art, music and film since 1980. The work they create together is stunning, and the impact they have had on these women’s lives over the past 40 years is immeasurable.
In Pentridge and at Dame Phyllis Frost, I’ve seen what a powerful impact the written and spoken word can have in prison, for those who perform and those who witness the performances. Here’s hoping that there will be many more opportunities like these in the future.
Melbourne’s Pentridge Prison still holds powerful memories for many thousands of people.
The prison’s towering bluestone walls were an imposing presence in Coburg, and almost all Melburnians have a story to tell about this notorious place.
My own connection to Pentridge dates from 1982, when I was 18 years old. At that time the prisoners in A Division had a theatre group called the Mess Hall Players. That year, they were putting on One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, an extremely powerful play set in a 1960s psychiatric institution in the US. There were several female roles in the play, and I was one of three young women who joined the theatre group to act alongside the prisoners.
We went into A Division every day for four months to rehearse and then perform the play. Over that time, we got to know the prisoners well and learned a lot about their lives and conditions inside. We saw them first and foremost as our fellow actors and almost forgot where we were until it came time to leave each evening, the heavy metal gates of A Division clanged shut behind us.
The play ran for five weeks, with audiences of about 200 people each night. It was a very professional production and got fantastic reactions from the public.
The most memorable performance for me was opening night, always a nerve-wracking time for the cast and crew. As per tradition, the audience that evening were the other A Division prisoners. We’d never met them as they were already locked in when we arrived for rehearsals each afternoon. But the guys in the theatre group had obviously been telling them about us, and they were very excited about finally seeing us.
The lights came up for the opening scene and my fellow actress and I walked out onto the stage, completely unprepared for the reaction our entrance would provoke. The guys in the audience went wild – clapping, whistling, yelling and stomping their feet. The whole stage was shaking and we couldn’t hear a word of the lines we were saying. We forged ahead, but it was a pretty dramatic first few minutes.
In the final scene, the main character, McMurphy – a loud, confident and rebellious inmate – has been brought back to his room after being lobotomised. His friend, Chief Bromden, knowing McMurphy would rather die than be reduced to this state, decides to smother him with a pillow.
During this scene, every single man in the audience was absolutely silent. There was not a single sound in the entire theatre. And although the noise at the start of the play had been pretty impressive, that silence at the end was truly overwhelming. All these years later, the memory still gives me goosebumps.
While the Mess Hall Players, A Division and Pentridge are now history (Pentridge closed in 1997), plays are still being performed in prisons. I recently saw a performance of The Sky Chose Me at the Dame Phyllis Frost Centre in Melbourne. Somebody’s Daughter Theatre worked with the women to create and perform this moving, funny, thought-provoking play and the art exhibition that accompanied it.
Somebody’s Daughter Theatre has worked with women in Victorian Prisons and post-release to create theatre, visual art, music and film since 1980. The work they create together is stunning, and the impact they have had on these women’s lives over the past 40 years is immeasurable.
In Pentridge and at Dame Phyllis Frost, I’ve seen what a powerful impact the written and spoken word can have in prison, for those who perform and those who witness the performances. Here’s hoping that there will be many more opportunities like these in the future.
The 2024 Paris Olympics started with a splash (literally). The Opening Ceremony featured 90 boats, filled with country teams waving flags, all floating down a rainy river Seine, as the crowd of 300,000 cheered from the riverbanks.
From the beginning, the atmosphere in Paris was a contrast to the 2021 Olympics in Tokyo, which were held under strict Covid pandemic restrictions and saw athletes competing in empty stadiums and without their family, friends, or support teams along for the ride. This year, record-breaking numbers of fans lined the streets and stadiums of Paris to cheer on the athletes.
In Sydney in May 2024, Damien Linnane (editor of the prison magazine Paper Chained) held an exhibition of art by people in prison around the world. Linnane managed to obtain over 100 artworks from currently and formerly incarcerated people in eight different countries.
About Time Media acknowledges the traditional owners of the lands across Australia and particularly acknowledges the Wurundjeri people of the Kulin nation, traditional owners of the land on which About Time Media is based.
We acknowledge the continuing impacts of the criminal legal system on First Nations people, including disproportionate rates of incarceration and deaths in custody, which remain a national shame.
We pay deep respect to Elders past and present, and all families of those who have lost loved ones in prison.
© About Time Media Ltd.
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Suspendisse varius enim in eros elementum tristique. Duis cursus, mi quis viverra ornare, eros dolor interdum nulla, ut commodo diam libero vitae erat. Aenean faucibus nibh et justo cursus id rutrum lorem imperdiet. Nunc ut sem vitae risus tristique posuere. uis cursus, mi quis viverra ornare, eros dolor interdum nulla, ut commodo diam libero vitae erat. Aenean faucibus nibh et justo cursus id rutrum lorem imperdiet. Nunc ut sem vitae risus tristique posuere.