Woordfees: When did binge-watching Netflix become an art form?

Spier Theatre: Netphlix 

Date: 06 October, 13:00 | 10 October, 13:30

Venue: HMS Bloemhof School Hall

One hardly expects to be asked, “Any Netflix shows you would like to watch live today?” on entering a satirical live performance. But Netphlix, a fast-paced, high-energy comedy, does not stick to norms. Or anything else, for that matter. 

The question comes from writer and director Sophie Joans, who stands resolute at the entrance of HMS Bloemhof School Hall, clipboard and pen in hand. She directs spectators to their seats and jots down their nervous streaming preferences. 

She then leaves the seating blocks and joins her props on stage: A white wooden cube surrounded by objects littered across the floor.

The performance opens with a soliloquy of sorts. Joans divulges her early aspiration to be cast in an esteemed Netflix film, the first step towards fame and fortune. Her efforts were, however, in vain.  Her dream of streaming stardom was squashed when she was dropped at a callback audition for a Netflix film, whose name she never reveals. Yet the trials were not futile, for they led her back to this – live theatre. 

What follows is a 52-minute rendition of an entire streaming platform. Or at least an attempt.

Netphlix, a satirical live performance written and directed by Sophie Joans, won a Standard Bank Ovation Award at the 2025 National Arts Festival in Makhanda. PHOTO: Supplied/Nardus Engelbrecht

Netphlix, a satirical live performance written and directed by Sophie Joans, won a Standard Bank Ovation Award at the 2025 National Arts Festival in Makhanda. PHOTO: Supplied/Nardus Engelbrecht

First on the satire watchlist is Squid Game. Joans stages the deadly scene of Red Light, Green Light, mimicking the creepy giant doll, Young-hee. In this version, however, she wields a loaded water gun, firing at audience members in the pauses between lines of the Korean counting rhyme. 

This is also where Joans introduces her playful rapport with stage manager, Cailyb Prinsloo. Prinsloo habitually fumbles his cues, mistiming sound effects, lighting, and music, and Joans answers each blunder by shouting profanities at the sound desk. 

Ryan Stopforth, who handles the music, luckily escapes unscathed. The classic Netflix “tudum” punctuates each scene change, and snippets of theme music let the audience name the show being parodied before a word is spoken. 

And what is a complete Netphlix experience without The Crown? Joans glides between Queen Elizabeth and Princess Diana, and doesn’t miss a beat when she turns to Prince Charles. It’s impressive to watch, as the one-woman show leaps from Stranger Things to The Good Doctor, You, and Sex Education. 

In her rendition of The Witcher, Joans summons Keith, an unsuspecting audience member, to play her horse. Keith drops onto all fours, and Joans, as Geralt of Rivia, clambers onto his back and rides him into battle, brandishing a pool noodle as a makeshift sword. 

Keith is then told to stay on stage, where he dutifully impersonates a contestant on Boer Soek ‘n Vrou, a zombie from The Walking Dead, and Edward from Twilight. 

Joans closes by snogging the masks of Tragedy and Comedy – a fitting finale. It’s an irreverent ode to live storytelling, and a reminder that some stories are better told by people than an algorithm.