This adaption of Alcestis follows Apollo (Claudia Jardine) as he struggles to save the life of Alcestis (Leah Bell) who must die to repay her husband’s, Admetus (Matthew Martel), debt. Apollo had previously persuaded the Fates to extend Admetus’ life, so that another son is saved from death as his was killed by Zeus, but this debt instead falls on the head of Alcestis. Given the title, Alcestis (ironically?) doesn’t give Alcestis many lines: she is either veiled, dying, or dead. Once dead, a miscommunication with Heracles (David Bowers-Mason) sets Apollo on a quest to reclaim his honour by travelling to the Underworld to bring back Alcestis to the land of the living. In typical Greek fashion it finishes with the Fates claiming Admetus’ life and Apollo ending Alcestis’ zombie-life, thus everything returns to its natural balance, even if it is via tragedy.

This was the first show from directors Eilish Draper and Alley Lane. Putting on any piece of theatre is no easy feat and these students definitely deserve a round of applause. However I do have some qualms, or rather, one very large qualm.

My biggest disappointment was the tone. In my view it was meant to be a tragedy and yet many of the most gut-wrenching, tear-jerking scenes came across as farcical. Over-the-top wailing as Alcestis’ body was brought on stage, as well as other melodramatic reactions by the supporting cast, instantly rejected me from the emotional depth of the story. Martel’s emotional range was consistent as a high-strung, overly dramatic widower which quickly got boring. His speeches needed dips and heights in order to retain interest, and also a different facial expression than his Robert De Niro scowl. Because these serious scenes were unbelievable, and the comedic relief via Bowers-Mason was so good, the tone was uncertain and the audience often laughed in places that appeared not to be intended as jokes.

However there were specific actors who carried the show. The aforementioned Bowers-Mason was fan-fucking-tastic as Heracles. As soon as he walked on stage with his Flintstone-sized club, a child’s lion-hoodie-blanket as his lion’s skin, and his contoured abs, we knew we were in for a laugh. He had fun with his lines, often ad-libbing to the audience’s delight, and wasn’t afraid to play the clown. Yet Bowers-Mason was also the most genuine when Heracles was shocked, pulling at the audience’s heartstrings, and also unnerving when he forced Alcestis to return to the living world.

Claudia Jardine was another stand-out. Casting her as Apollo was a smart decision; her singing and musical ability gave the audience chills, and her femininity gave a deeper connection to the character’s hurt and desire to protect. We could see and feel Apollo’s frustration at not being able to be more powerful than the Fates.

Max Nunes Cesar, who plays Admetus’ father Pheres, delivered a pleasantly surprising performance. His deep, gravelly, and commanding voice held the audience in place. He delivered a believable older man of exceptional power and influence; it made me sympathise with his character’s point of view, and even believe that he was correct.

The costuming of the Fates was deliciously new and chilling, and the lighting for the Underworld was just as delectable. I left this show feeling it had the potential to be exceptional, if only the tone had been more precise.

The THEA311 class was divided into two shows, In the Attic and Moonlight, both directed by Kerryn Palmer. Students took on roles both onstage and backstage, with some doing both jobs in the same show.

***

I was pleased to be able to see the first showing of In the Attic, was aimed at eight years old and above. The show follows Alex (Corey Wills), Sam (Peter Rogers), and Bea (Cassidy Cruz) who go into an attic, and get transported in a Jumanji-style to a world called Owt. Owt is a Coraline-esque world and its elements often scare the main characters, prompting them to go home, but things go haywire…

The set and lighting were incredibly beautiful. Sheets covering old objects sing of their former use when lifted, and boxes become portals to other worlds, with lighting aiding the mystical elements. The use of a smoke machine was also well applied, especially with the witch-like creatures of The Binders (Gemma Revell and Saffron Troughton), whom I adored! I left the show humming The Binders’s song, haunting and inviting at the same time. The rap and hip-hop talents of Daniel Gagau and Janaye Henry for the Guides added a sense of modernity to the show. The creatures of Owt were creepy, intriguing, and well animated, beautifully highlighting the talents of Revell, Troughton, Natalie Wilson and Georgia May. The Pan’s Labyrinth’s Pale Man creatures as well as the hilarious French police clowning duo were my favourites, succeeding in their task of both scaring me and making me laugh.

While the ending was surprisingly dark and left open-ended, I felt only sympathy for Sam — Rogers’ expressions evoked his character even without words. Wills and Cruz gave flat and unexciting performances that made it hard for me to care for their characters.

***

Moonlight was also a strong and delightful show, aimed at four to eight year olds, about Luna (Yasmin Golding), a young girl who is scared of the dark. She’s about to go to bed but her Nightlight (Georgia Ball) starts to flicker before going out completely. Luckily, Mr Watt, played by the dynamic and energetic Kevin Orlando, is able to fix her Nightlight, but only with Moonlight (also Ball). Luna goes out into the magical forest, putting on her pink boots and grabbing her pink umbrella, but not a jacket, which the little girl next to me was adamant she needed as it’s “cold outside!”

Luna’s journey is much like Alice in Wonderland, where she meets and empathises with different characters. She also finds that without Moonlight, the forest is scared and slowly dying. Moonlight provides a  subtle tale with themes of environmental change and corporate greed.  Luna eventually decides not to give Mr Watt the Moonlight, and instead gives it to the forest and all the characters who live there.

I concur with the little girl sitting next to me when she said that the Signposts Frederick (Pernille Himmelmoe) and Gwyneth (Finnian Nacey) were the best characters. Silly and inviting, channelling their Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum, the two really captured the audience with their voice as they moved physically very little. As the little girl next to me said “they had the best accents.”

I appreciated how Ball played both the Nightlight and the Moonlight, upgrading through the play, especially as Luna realised she was no longer scared of the dark and therefore no longer needed a Nightlight.

The entire cast were strong performers, and the tech elements (again) were great! At one point it actually looked like light was streaming through a forest! The music did well to incorporate live and recorded sound, and also allow Golding and Ball to showcase their beautiful vocals.

***

Both of these shows were incredibly strong performances and displayed awe-inspiring tech elements of sound and lighting which are simply divine. I thoroughly enjoyed both shows, and if weren’t able to see it, you really missed out on something fabulous! If the quality of these shows is anything to go by, this Collaborative Production course will be incredibly popular in the next few years, especially if they retain the focus on children’s theatre.

Interested about applying for the course? More information can be found here. 

We attended the two final showings of Tales from the Spice Rack — a delightfully applicable metaphor, given one’s inability to anticipate whether the next piece would be sombre or uproariously funny: as with life, this show reminds us that “you never know what you’re gonna get,” and, undoubtedly, there were some pieces that served more punch and flavour than others.

“Salt” had mostly warm shows, almost all involving an exploration of love. The most serious and intense was “Night Bird” directed by Zac Tanner, which had a clever use of two laptop screens showing the inner expressions and feelings of the characters onstage. Though we were unable to see Isadora Lao’s piece, “A Mustache and a Mattress”, due to a scheduling conflict with one of her actors, we commend her decision to stick to her proverbial guns and put on only the one showing, rather than recasting — making her piece even stronger. Our personal favourites of the season would have to be “Swimming in the Shallows” directed by Izabelle Brown, and “Words, Words, Words” directed by Adam Hart. Both pieces had an uplifting energy that infected the audience, and the respective actors brought engrossingly bizarre and amusing performances, especially Nick, who has just fallen in love in Brown’s piece. Not to mention the entire anthropomorphic monkey cast of Hart’s piece. Monkeys? Yes, you read that correctly, with protruding ears, hairy knuckles, and everything! It was great.

“Pepper” offered a more diverse flavour profile. “The Actor’s Nightmare”, directed by Léon Bristow, was a delightfully self-aware opening to the night, if slightly lacking in pacing. We are of the opinion that the season might have been more impactfully concluded with the other quirky, meta-theatrical performance “Smoke Screens”, directed by Lilia Askew, which was simultaneously high-brow and high energy. Two other standouts from the evening: Beth Taylor’s take on “Confessions of a Chocoholic” with its cushy, multi-faceted set — made captivating by the returning talent Kate Anderson — and the strong performance and even stronger illustrated overhead projections of Martin McDonagh’s version of “The Pillowman”.

Putting on a collaborative show of this magnitude, both as a budding director AND as a part of the production team, ALL THE WHILE knee deep in various other dismal university/life obligations, is no easy feat. To the directors and cast of Tales from the Spice Rack, we have only this left to say: ya done good, and we look forward to seeing where you go from here.

*

Why do you think students will be interested in seeing the show?

Adeline Shaddick: Students will love it just because it’s about a high school band, and also the idea of school friends falling apart but staying together, loving each other but also hating each other. Any students, not just high school, will love it. There’s also good friend banter throughout it. Band banter.

Keegan Bragg: The thing that bothers me the most about shows like this is that they’re not ruckus enough. They don’t play to that young thing where you want to have dumb fun enough, they’re a little too restrained, and I think that’s our goal anyway with this show, to really assault the senses with how this band plays with each other.

A: Shit yeah, it really stirs the pot.

Talk us through your character, Adeline. Who is she?

A: Amelia / Amy, I don’t think she likes “Amelia” at all. She’s in this band with her friends from high school. I like to say she’s a bit of a noob, to be honest — that’s my connection with her, in we’re not very clear with what we want and then when we are, we freak out.

Ben Wilson: That certainly sounds like Amy; I don’t know about you.

A: Yeah, cool. She’s in this band, she’s been in this band for a couple years, they’re about 20/21. It’s her dad who comes up with this idea to make them famous, and she gets hooked onto it. Her dad is an advertising man who’s into his products and creating things, life insurance is his thing, and he’s quite intense. Her mum’s not in the picture. Kenneth is played by Matt Staijen-Leach. Me and Matt have a couple of scenes together so it’s really cool to work with him again.

All of you have gone through university. Ben, you did a Master of Arts in Creative Writing with IIML, Keegan has a Bachelor of Arts in Theatre, and Adeline has a Bachelor of Commerce in Marketing and Theatre. How did VUW and IIML help you in this process?

B: IIML has helped me so much, especially Ken Duncum being so supportive; he’s done so much for me.

A: I’ve learnt just as much in both my areas; I have more love for theatre but marketing is more practical, giving me knowledge as to how to have my own business. I did a 300-level arts marketing paper where I was like, “whoa, this would be so much fun to do marketing for theatre!” The lecturer was so passionate. I like boring logistical stuff like making Excel budget lists, writing rehearsal requirements, lists, and marketing at university has helped me with the producing role too.

Keegan, you and Adeline did THEA 304 last year and you’re assistant directing this year’s Long Cloud show Black Knight Dreaming. Do you think these experiences have helped you in your first show as a director?

K: Definitely. I think the good thing about doing shows outside of university as well as doing the [theatre] papers in university is that you get a lot of experience about different ways of working, and so even though it’s your first show and you’re learning a lot and you’re testing out things that don’t necessarily work all the time, you’ve got this real wealth of knowledge and reasoning behind why things work and don’t work, so you don’t feel like a blind person stumbling around in a room, you can see the reasons why things work or don’t work, so it’s immensely helpful.

What was the first show you guys worked on?

B: Call Me Bukowski (CMB). I saw Keegan in The Adding Machine [Long Cloud, directed by Stella Reid] and thought he was really amazing, and I just wanted him to be my friend. Liam became our friend at the same time. CMB was the first show where we met and worked on something together.

So you worked on CMB, and then Fred Is Cold [directed by Neenah Dekkers-Reihana], and then Super Clean which Liam directed. Did you have a similar process with Satisfied Customers as you had with Super Clean, devising first and then writing a script?

K: We had a first draft, and then with that draft we had a devising process where we explored the characters and stuff like that, hot-seating and other exercises to get out the meat of the characters. This was after we’d cast.

B: Yeah, so [the cast] helped change the second draft really. So we saw them work, and then we wrote accordingly. We saw what they were really good at and made it fit that a bit more.

K: And we could see that from a writer’s eye and a director’s eye.

B: Yeah, and we just sat up all night together and reworked it, after we did two days’ worth of stuff with the actors.

K: And that’s when you feel like it’s a great collaborative thing, when you work on it and then bring other people in and it improves it exponentially.

And that’s the real value of working with a living playwright, isn’t it?

A: It’s been so good having Ben in the room. The majority of the rehearsals he’s been there, if not all, and we [the actors] are just able to communicate with him if we have any questions. Even just with a line, we’re like “can we just make this line this way?” and he’s like “yeah,” or “nah, we’ve got this for a reason,” and then we say “oh, that makes more sense as well.” And we’re able to talk about our characters journeys and stuff, it’s been really really helpful.

K: And what I think is awesome is that the director and the writer can help the actors out in very different ways. So Ben is the authority on the script, the thing we’re actually doing, because he wrote the thing, and so for Adeline’s character, the hero’s journey is the template. He has a very thorough understanding of that, and my job is to translate it in a way that’s easy to play as an actor, and not all this theory. But I mean, that’s the joy of collaboration. To go back to our influences, that’s what you learn at VUW, that’s what you learn at Long Cloud, that’s what you learn everywhere is that collaboration is a good thing. And I think we’ve got that.

So Ben, Keegan, and Liam Kelly — you guys are a trio company?

B: Yeah, so we started the company with Fred Is Cold but that wasn’t a company show because we wanted Neenah [Dekkers-Reihana] to direct, very much, so we thought making it a company show would be a bit redundant. So our first company show was Super Clean [which was in Fringe (My FAV) 2017, which Liam directed].

What’s your company called?

B: Rumpus Room.

How was it working on a project without Liam, without your third company member?

B: Liam was there for the start, as it was a baby,. It’s amazing because we like different things in a lot of ways, we all have different tastes, so when we all sit down with just an idea, we’re able to put all these little bits of taste into one thing, and that’s what’s great about it being me, Keegan, and Liam when there is no script, we can just do this.

K: Because there is sort of a Goldilocks Zone between having different tastes and having the same taste. Having the same taste means you have the same coherent vision and work towards something, and then the different tastes means you don’t have a narrow vision, or a vision that’s never challenged or improved by the other people in the group and I think we have that. And that goes to the versatility as well. Ben can write a show, and act in a show, and Liam can do the same thing, and Liam and Ben can both play different instruments, and I can act and direct, and that’s what’s great about the company.

B: So Liam was involved in the beginning but he has his Masters [of Fine Arts] and he really wanted to put his time into that because it means a lot to him, so we just made a plan where we would all work together at the start, and then he would do his Masters, and we’d talk to him every now and again about the script as new drafts came and he would give us his feedback and it’s been great.

A: He came in for workshops early on, to explore bits and pieces.

K: Again, what’s good about that is the versatility. SO you have a show like Super Clean which is very Fringe, it’s all about audience interaction, and then you’ve got a show like this which is really more like Ben’s baby as a more traditional play, and then Liam’s Masters project is a 12-hour durational play where you write a song every hour. So that’s the idea of the company — basically, diversity.

Did it feel a bit odd though, not having your third company member in the room with you?

B: I’ve never felt like I’ve never had him really, because he was always open to us.

K: I mean, that’s kind of the beast of collaboration. We know Liam incredibly well, and we know Addie and Matt [actor] well, and then we had people we cast who we don’t know well at all, so that’s just part of the beast, navigating the different layers of knowing each other.

I think that’s a real testament to your company that is doesn’t have to be the three of you all the time, because, as nice as that is, sometimes in theatre that’s just not logistically possible.

K: And the theatre companies we look up to work on a similar basis. That’s just the nature of the beast of theatre in Wellington.

In terms of the future of the company, are you going to do another Fringe show? Are you going to add more permanent members to the company?

B: I think we want people we regularly work with, for sure. And in terms of wanting to do Fringe, yes, we would like to, but it’s just always spirit of the moment. It’s based on people’s availability because Liam’s still studying, and we’re working, and all that sort of stuff, so it’s just figuring all that out. It’s really hard to plan long term.

K: What’s kind of gorgeous about it, even though there’s all these availabilities and people you want to bring in or not bring in, if you have a good show idea and you can get people involved in that show idea and you can realise it then that’s what we go towards. It’s not about who’s available in this month. When the show is good then it usually gets people over the line and gets people to over-commit and stress themselves the hell out.

B: I think we would only ever plan to a show if we had an idea. We’re not going to think “Oh, Fringe is coming up, we should think of something for that.” We’re not especially interested in that.

K: Every show is different, every show is unique, and I hope that we have the right team and the right process behind Satisfied Customers because it’s a really good idea, I think.

So jobs are a real thing and, as students, we have to support ourselves — theatre always tends to suck up a lot of our time. So do you guys have jobs or aim for jobs that are flexible enough for you to do theatre?

K: The way I think about it, you just have to make time. You have to go as hard as you can, especially with something like theatre. The opportunity is just not going to present itself for you. 

A: No, you have to drive yourself. But it is always so hard, and you just have to find time. And if that means finding a job that’s casual and you work rarely, then that’s what you’ve got to do, if you want to do it.

K: And that’s why I’m really happy with the cast we have because not everyone has that mindset. I think we’ve got a bunch of good eggs in our carton, everyone has that mindset of “whatever it takes” — we’ve just got to find time to do it properly.

Favourite colour?

B: Purple. I really like the colour purple.

K: Red and black — Crusaders colours.

A: Orange! Like a mandarin orange.

K: Oh, fucking of course mandarin orange! [Laughs]

A: I love mandarins! Oh wait… [she then pulls out a mandarin peel from her pocket].

Favourite food from the Hunter Lounge?

A: Curly fries!

B: Oh yeah, the curly fries are great.

K: Pilsner.

The New Zealand School of Dance (NZSD) 50th anniversary show celebrates ten dances created by graduates from five decades of the school, performed by ten contemporary dance students who graduate in 2017.

I have always appreciated dance, leaving films like Step Up wishing I could be as committed and talented as they. Leaving ONCE gave me much the same impression. Here are gymnasts and acrobats, landing so quietly on their feet, with such physical discipline, producing beautiful and awe-inspiring performance art with their bodies.

The stage was a simple rectangle of white lino, with the audience seated and facing the corners. As a theatre student, the lighting is fucking LIT. The opening lighting had 60 centimetres of the edge of the stage illuminated indirectly, meaning if one is to stand on it, the floor would be in light but not necessarily their body. The show opens with all the performers standing in this periphery, looking at each other, acknowledging the space, breathing together, before departing and the lights coming down for the first dance to begin.

Stand out and stepped up performances for me were Sunflower Sutra performed by Holly Brogan and choreographed by Eliza Sanders; Solo for Toa performed by Toa Paranihi and choreographed by Raewyn Hill; and Creatúra performed by Christina Guieb and choreographed by Lauren Langlois.

Sunflower Sutra began as soon as the preceding dance finished, with only her voice muttering, which I initially thought was a disrespectful audience member. Wearing a gold jumpsuit reminiscent of an American prisoner’s uniform, Brogan began to dance, muttering to herself all the while, tapping and twitching, at times becoming her own music before the music began. She captivated our attention entirely.

Holly Brogan in ‘Sunflower Sultra’, choreographed by Eliza Sanders. Photo by Stephen A’Court.

Solo for Toa was exactly what Hill’s brief said it would be: “a celebration of the movement language and the extraordinary spirit that resides in Toa’s body.” Paranihi stepped onto the stage and danced along its periphery, acknowledging the space, before diving into the centre. Because he was topless, his body was performing to the entire audience, and the muscles in his torso and back danced with him. Simply captivating and beautiful.

Toa Paranihi in ‘Solo for Toa’, choreographed by Raewyn Hill. Photo by Stephen A’Court.

Creatúra closed ONCE and was the pinnacle. Guieb and the music (“Mixed_feelings_about_Alien_STEMS” by Alisdair Macindoe) were connected, and the audience knew at once where we were and the story: a robotic character is created, but just as it starts to explore its world, it begins to glitch, ultimately destroying it. Of course, as the finale and also a performance specifically about technology, the lighting here goes nuts and I loved it. Guieb so completely commanded my attention that I only managed to write one thing down: a heart.

Christina Guieb in ‘Creatura’, choreographed by Lauren Langlois. Photo by Stephen A’Court.

I encourage everyone to come and see this show, supporting art in all its forms, applauding these performers for feats I will never attain, and also all the production team for putting together this beautiful dance show. Happy 50th birthday NZDS!

Matilda the Musical is based on Matilda by Roald Dahl and follows it closely, with a few new details. For example, Mrs Wormwood (Kay Murphy) is addicted to ballroom dancing with her “secret weapon” Italian dancer Rudolpho (Travis Khan), rather than bingo, making her addiction to money and high-class life more believable. Meanwhile Matilda’s brother Michael (Daniel Raso) only speaks by yelling words his father has said, e.g. “BACKWARDS!” (While this detail did highlight and exacerbate the frustration Matilda (Annabella Cowley) felt within her family, I am uneasy that it may perpetuate stereotypes of disability, with the character being used for comedic relief in a musical aimed at children). Finally, the show creates a closer relationship between Matilda and the librarian, Mrs Phelps (Cle Morgan). Throughout the show Matilda tells Mrs Phelps parts of a story she’s made up about an escapologist and an acrobat, which is later revealed to be the real story of Miss Honey’s (Lucy Maunder) parents. Morgan’s characterisation of Mrs Phelps was warmly welcomed; she brought an amplified energy that was contagious to the audience.

The show takes the magic and grittiness of Dahl’s work and makes it more accessible for audience members to dive into the world of Matilda. Miss Trunchbull (James Millar), who comes across as downright terrifying in the book, still holds that terror as a literally large bully, but also delicately balances comedy, allowing children to laugh at her, especially when Bruce Bogtrotter (Ewan Herdman) completes her challenge of eating an entire chocolate cake.

A huge theme of Matilda is children’s craving of stories and knowledge being stopped by learning-hating adults such as Mr and Mrs Wormwood, and Miss Trunchbull. When the intermission was coming to a close, Mr Wormwood (Daniel Frederiksen) comes on stage and declares that what children have seen today should not be tried at home: reading! He promotes television, telling us everything he’s learnt he’s “learnt from tele”, of course in a song, seamlessly slipping into the second half of the show. Yet it’s obvious that learning and reading will win the day, as adults such as Miss Honey and Mrs Phelps nurture Matilda’s curiosity. The set is literally covered in letters that make up hidden words from the show; it was an absolute delight to find our seats and go on a crossword hunt.

Matilda stands for fairness, learning, and reading, accompanied by some stellar songs and gorgeous characters. You’ll regret missing this show.

P.S. All the actors names I have used are from the night on which I saw the show — Friday, September 2. The child actors rotate when they perform, therefore there may be different actors when you go to see the show.

New Zealand playwright Mīria George’s The Night Mechanics mixes theatrical forms — comedy and drama — with the hearts of young diverse actors, passionate about Māori worldview and deep issues relevant to society today. The play was held in the comfortable Heyday Dome of Bats Theatre (the nurturing place for new NZ performances) amidst a unique yet simple set design. At first glance I was expecting the play to rattle my Māori taringa with the classic speech and dialogue I’d usually hear in theatre, however I was pleasantly surprised and highly appreciative of the plentiful use of te reo Māori with careful pronunciation from all the actors.

George has artistically highlighted the reality of the long-term effects of climate change and global warming, and stresses the importance of tino rangatiratanga, iwi, whānau, hapū, and kaitiakitanga. Water is extremely scarce in a somewhat post-apocalyptic NZ where the heat is unbearable and an impoverished people desperately fight for survival day upon day. Rivers are no longer a delicacy, springs have dried up, and the ocean, a distant memory. Thriving wahine toa, Hine, is up against “The Water Company” — a villainous, powerful corporation that has taken control over water supplies throughout the whenua. Hine forms a bond with a woman who does not belong anywhere, and rekindles a relationship with her self-appointed mayor of a brother, to fight for what belongs to their people, te tangata o Aotearoa. Desperate to uphold the legacy her matua left behind, and with the long coming help of a traitorous preacher, hot headed Hine stands up to the grotesque Darren — the man in charge at The Water Company headquarters — and brawls him for tino rangatiratanga.

Each actor executes the uniqueness of their character with enticing energy and intensity that takes your imagination far away from the four walls of the Heyday Dome, finding yourself on the hot grounds of Hine’s home. George has worked hard to compose a beautiful ensemble between the actors, every transition of scenes is smooth, and no one leaves the stage the entire time.

Night Mechanics. 2017. Meg Mann.

There is a diverse range of ethnicities of the actors cast in the play, five to be specific, made up of Māori, Samoan, Sri Lankan, Cambodian, and Malaysian. Considering The Night Mechanics is a Māori play, it is realistic that the cast is mostly brown. I think that this (and I always do) is helpful for the audience’s visual connection — in addition to some of the costume design that really portrays the definition of a mechanic, a post-apocalyptic “Māori mechanic”. Alongside the magical and transformative impact ethnicity and costume can create, the set design is beautifully simplistic, giving balance to an intense use of lighting.

My initial reaction to The Night Mechanics is YES! More light needs to be shone on the deep issues this play addresses. The play is clearly influenced by the world, the Aotearoa we live in today — fighting for clean rivers, oceans, and tino rangatiratanga. George stresses the continuous impacts of colonisation on Māori — my people, the loss of identity as one people, as iwi, hapū, and whānau; mass industrialisation upon our precious papatūānuku and tangaroa, rampant impoverishment, but especially the loss of our tino rangatiratanga. As the actors agreed in a post-performance discussion, at this rate, we really are heading towards a future just like that of the night mechanics. Climate change is legit! It’s also legit being educated about it too. So do your research. Did you know that by 2050 there is going to be more plastic in the oceans than fish?! Appalling.

As a Māori theatre student who likes to think she’s quite “woke”, I encourage my fellow tauira to go see this unique performance, engage in the issues, and continue to spark conversations waking everyone else up. Especially those of you who identify as non-Pakehā and are looking for a place in the theatre industry, there are other styles of theatre besides classical theatre, like Māori theatre — and Māori are natural performers, everyone knows that.

— Nā Lateshia Marie McFarlane, Ngāti Porou

Except, I want to say  more about it!

I had high expectations of this show given that it’s produced by the renowned Indian Ink Theatre Company (of Krishnan’s Dairy fame), and the promotional poster had the “Winner of the Fringe First Edinburgh Award” sticker on it. And you know what? It not only met my expectations, but superseded them.  

The show follows the story of Sasha (Kalyani Nagarajan), a blind receptionist at the Empire Hotel (“Bringing the Orient to Oriental Parade!”) who believes she is cursed because everything she loves dies. But then she falls in love with Jeena (Vanessa Kumar), and things quickly unravel when an oddly-smelling Mr G Reaper (Andrew Ford) with a passion for preserves checks into the hotel.

The show is a clever integration of mask work and clowning, something akin to what Western audiences expect of commedia dell’arte. The dramatic and ridiculous characters draw the audience in, and all of them, including Mr Reaper, find a place in our hearts. The beautiful minor characters have extravagant masks covering their entire heads, and their stories are so clearly expressed through mime it was almost sad not to see more of them. Even the faithful pianist Graham (Aryton Foote) is superbly engaged with throughout the entire show, inviting the audience to the world of the play through his music. My personal favourite character was Sasha’s aged aunt Ammachy (Kumar again), whose stereotypical characteristics instantly tickled my funny bone.

The set establishes a brilliant surreal world, with the psychedelic painted walls reminding me of school productions with loud colours painted on plywood. There are little nooks and crannies making for interesting hideaway places, which we discovered whenever a character would suddenly use them throughout the show. The set did well not to overshadow the plot nor the very animated characters on stage. The lighting worked seamlessly, at times the light spill including the audience, just another way (intentional or not) that the audience was invited into this rather peculiar world.

The balance between comedic timing and tender moments throughout the play is carefully managed, giving us Monty-Python-esque sketches as well as thought-provoking moments that show us “anything to do with the heart is risky.” And might I challenge you to see the theme of migrants ever so subtly taken seriously throughout the show; it’s the subject of most of the play’s jokes, but also takes a more serious and beautiful tone with one of the minor masked characters dancing with a globe.

I left agreeing with and adoring every aspect of the show. It is hilarious, ridiculous, and touching; you fall into the bizarreness of the world quite willingly, and enjoy the fall. It’s a great show to bring your romantic partners, family, and friends — especially that friend who doesn’t really go to theatre shows; it invites you in with open arms and leaves you with a warm stirring in your soul.

The Pickle King is on at Hannah Playhouse till September 9. Student prices available. Book tickets here.

In the briefest of summaries, we follow the story of Elliot (played by the beautiful Aimee Smith) who is struggling to win the heart of his fair Freda. G (Jayne Grace), an endearingly clumsy “pick up artist”, aims to transform him into a ladies’ man.

Each of the male archetypes in M’Lady are portrayed in outrageous extremities. Most of the humour lies in the audience’s understanding of these archetypes combined with the script’s clever integration of referential jokes and modern one liners.

The actors were amazing: Aimee Smith with her dynamic singing voice; Jayne Grace’s natural ability for comic timing; and Marysia Collins and Greer Phillips as ensemble characters filled the space with their movement. Freya van Alphen Fyfe seemed so familiar with her character I wouldn’t be surprised if she was Adrian in real life. Real props go to Karen Anslow and her performance of Al and Nemesis. While Anslow’s characters were designed to be larger than life, she managed to steer them to serve the work of the satire, playing less into the farce of the situation while still being genuinely funny.

The set looked extremely cool. A highlight for me was walking in and staring at all these crazy posters. Looking up and seeing the energy drink chandelier gave me an incredible thrill. But as dynamic as the aesthetic was, the overall design did fit well in the space, and set pieces had to be stored side stage in full view of the audience. Because of this the vibrant choreography also suffered, making it seem under rehearsed.

The music itself was incredible and made the production feel professional. A duet between Elliot and Al was a brilliant example of how the music dominated the tone of the show. The lyrics were well written and created an earnest hilarity which matched the script’s impeccable timing. Unfortunately, the actors ought to have been miked — I was sitting in the front row and could hardly hear some of the songs and I found I was losing interest in some of these moments.  

But the real star of the show was the script. The dialogue was smooth, natural, and hysterical. The structure was refreshing, breaking the boundaries enough to keep us engaged. What the production tackles is extremely ambitious, and to be able to pull it off with the resources available is a testament to how strong the script itself is. I can easily see this show on both bigger and smaller stages. Red Scare Theatre Company have managed to create a rare thing: a brilliant multidisciplinary musical accessible to all budgets.