Shows

TRÖLL, set in 1998, follows 12-year-old Otto through a dark period of his young life. Otto is a member of a chat group where he finds comradery – it’s the only place he feels accepted. The set is a computer desk and screen, which along with animation, music, and shadows, is utilised cleverly to deliver a full narrative.

Otto also has a mysterious, chain-smoking Icelandic grandmother living in the family’s sleepout (who becomes a source of much wisdom and humour).

While the play begins light-heartedly, and contains plenty of wit throughout, it is multifaceted, insightful, and portrays depression in a way that is poignant and relatable to children. Howell gives a fabulous performance and the script feels like what a 12-year-old would say, not what an adult would assume a young boy would say. The troll is both a real character (weaving in a fairy-tale element to the work) and a metaphor for the growing, fearsome black hole that is isolation.

This play contains so many significant themes, none of which are forced on the audience but rather seem to fit naturally within the narrative. It is hard to mention them all in one review but a few of the major ones are: the dangers of internet harassment, bullying in schools, relationships between young and old, and overcoming fear and depression.

TRÖLL is still provoking conversation in my household and especially resonated with my older children. However, there are plenty of fantastic effects and humour to keep a younger audience member engaged, even if they do not necessarily understand the larger story. Perhaps my favourite thing about TRÖLL is that it has not been sanitised by the political correctness that takes the edge out of much of the work produced in this genre.

This is a worthwhile production that my 12-year-old son loved (which is saying something). My only criticism would be that the 90’s references are at times lost on the young crowd, but other than that, I would highly recommend TRÖLL.

A woman (Isobel MacKinnon) recounts stories from her childhood. It’s one peppered with ornaments, much to the dismay of her mother, who is called “the opposite of a hoarder.” The narrative is divided into two distinct sections: memories from the woman’s past are interspersed with delightful anecdotes about the ornaments she has collected.

When recounting memories of her mother, MacKinnon walks to a table stocked with her collection. She uses a GoPro to film the ornaments, which are attributed to characters that then re-enact her stories. While projecting the live footage onto the back wall of the stage is clever, this segment needs work.

Most of the time, it’s clear which ornament represents which character, but there are a number of flimsy links and figures that seem surplus to the action. When a character leaves a story, MacKinnon removes the ornament from the table and places it in three strips of dim light on the floor (lighting design by Jennifer Lal). Some of these moments make perfect sense, but others don’t. The script could be adjusted to indicate what is happening when the surplus characters are removed, and overall, I’d like to see more methodical and concise action in this segment.

It’s at the table that MacKinnon often fumbles with the script, but she recovers from these instances with courage and grace. These scenes also feel like a lost opportunity in terms of their design. Lighting on the table itself and better camera angles would create striking stage pictures. Fully committing to the hazy, blue, shadowy lighting scheme used would help it achieve its desired otherworldly effect. As it stands, the scheme feels dull and almost accidental.

It is during the anecdotal sections that both the work and MacKinnon’s performance really shine. The script is beautiful and hilarious, the story is heart-wrenching and poignant, and MacKinnon is a gifted actor.

With refinement and a more considered design approach, Full Scale would hit its mark and then some.

Side by Side by Sondheim honours the great Stephen Sondheim with a total of 55 songs by the man himself – 27 of which are performed as a medley, assures Matthew Pike. The composer and lyricist behind such celebrated musicals as Into the Woods, Company, and Sweeney Todd, and the witty wordsmith responsible for hits like Tonight and I Feel Pretty, Sondheim is arguably the greatest American musical theatre artist around today. Dazzling, glamorous, elegant, and brimming with astronomical talent, this show feels every bit the fitting tribute.

With musical director Michael Nicholas Williams and Colin Taylor on a grand piano apiece, Side by Side by Sondheim was always going to be – well, grand. But these musicians are more than just impressive. They play flawlessly, capturing the spirit of Sondheim with doses of humour and gall, especially during interactions with singers Pike, Julie O’Brien, and Sarah Lineham. Williams and O’Brien’s raunchy rendition of I Never Do Anything Twice is one of my show highlights.

With a powerful and inimitable voice that gets deep into your bones, O’Brien is striking. She’s hilarious too; just watch her waddle and effectively rap during Getting Married Today.

Lineham surprises me with an unexpected vigour and a phenomenal range in You Gotta Get A Gimmick. Prior to this piece, her voice is delicate, soft, and lovely, tinkling above the action. She follows up the ‘gimmick’ (hint: there’s a trumpet involved), with an affecting aria. Losing My Mind is the most emotionally resonant moment of the show for me.

Every moment Pike is on stage seems effortless. He glides through the musical with ease and consistency. His voice is pure and unforced, acting as an anchor to O’Brien and Lineham’s. It reaches their heights when he sings in falsetto for a fleeting moment that catches my breath in my chest.

Side by Side by Sondheim is a great excuse to get dressed up, pop the bubbly, and enjoy a wonderful night out at the theatre.

I have seen many adaptations of Twelfth Night, but never one set in a drag club. With high hopes for this 6 Degrees Festival show from the Masters students of the MFA theatre programme at Victoria University of Wellington, I walked through the doors of the BATS Random Stage straight into a rainbow dream. My expectations were met and exceeded by this bright and buoyant production.

The story of Twelfth Night is well told. Siblings Viola (the poised Rebekah Adams) and Sebastian (the gentle Finnian Nacey) are shipwrecked and, both believing the other to be dead, scarper off in different directions. Viola disguises herself as the boy Cesario and enters the service of Duke Orsino (a charming and innocent performance from Simon Davies). The Duke sends his new manservant to profess his love for Olivia (the exquisitely elegant Charli Gartrell), becoming confused by his seemingly homosexual feelings for Cesario in the process. But Olivia falls in love with Cesario too. Viola’s got game.

Chaos ensues, spurred on by drunkard Sir Toby (the show-stopping genius Brianne Kerr), Maria (a-star-has-been-born Nick Erasmuson, performing beautifully in drag), and Fabiana (the energetic Ashleigh Yates), who manipulate everyone around them with surprising agility for people who drink so much. Bearing the brunt of the nasty tricks are Malvolio (the impassioned, yellow-stockings-clad Max Nunes-Cesar) and Sir Andrew (Finnian McCauley delivers the perfect level of silly here). The dancing, singing fool (she-may-as-well-be-Prince-she’s-so-great Ariadne Baltazar) watches all, while Sebastian’s love interest Antonio (the frenzied, fiery Alfredo Gonzalez) pines, and gets arrested. The representation in this production was refreshingly effortless, though I wish more could have been made of this great romance at the end.

Each cast member allowed the next their moment in the spotlight, and what moments they were. Stunning costumes added glitz and glam, and, oh, the dance numbers! Erasmuson’s choreography with Harriet Foster’s sound design? C’est magnifique.

The inclusion of an interval would have made this a near-perfect two hours of theatre.

Madiba the Musical is a celebration of the great Nelson Mandela (Perci Moeketsi). Using stage techniques such as projection and narration (David Denis), it traverses many years of his life rapidly, jumping from his time as a freedom fighter and lawyer in the 1950s to his incarceration in the 1960s in the blink of an eye. While Mandela serves life in prison, the production shifts its focus to young activist Sam (Tim ‘Timomatic’ Omaji) and artist Will (Barry Conrad).

What first must be said about Madiba is the exceptional vocal talent of the cast. While each outstanding voice blended beautifully with the next, Ruva Ngwenya’s (playing Winne Mandela) smooth, husky timbre had me on the edge of my seat. Johan Nus’ choreography too made a lasting impression, a slow-motion protest scene remaining with me long after the curtain had fallen. The interfusion of traditional and contemporary dance felt elegantly reflective of the past and present, echoing the multigenerational voice expressed in Madiba.

Vibrant, explosive, and joyful, Madiba is every bit the celebration it declares itself. Whilst I found it a pleasure to watch, my question is this: considering what a far cry South Africa is from a ‘rainbow nation’ today, what is achieved by viewing the story through a rose-coloured lens? Mandela’s dreams of equality and non-violence resonate through Madiba, so what do we gain from cutting the story off at his election in 1994, when temporarily, all is well?

I am all for interspersing uplifting entertainment with harrowing facts and harsh realities – otherwise I think the work can become inaccessible. I’m all for sending your audience away dancing, hopeful. But I think more could have been done to draw attention to current affairs; to the fact that the fight is long from over. Even a programme note, a call to action, would bring this work into the 21st century and give it as much purpose as it has positivity.

I’m so glad I brought my friend who is a new mama along to Rants in the Dark. Leaving her six-month-old for the longest time yet to attend the show, she told me, was totally worth it. She laughed, she cried, and she’s bringing her other new mama friends along too because she knows it will resonate deeply with them – especially the ones who are struggling.

For me, whose only child is a cat (and I’m profoundly aware that this doesn’t count), Rants in the Dark is an expressive and hilarious insight into motherhood – and what I might be in for should I choose to extend my family. Does a dog count though? Can it, please? I’m inclined to agree with the rumours that the show acts as a pretty darn good method of birth control, and not (just) because of the poop.

Beautifully adapted by Mel Dodge, Lyndee-Jane Rutherford, and Bevin Linkhorn, Rants in the Dark sheds light on the brutal judgement parents are subjected to. It’s fantastic to see such an emphasis on redefining the way we regard and treat mothers.

But that emphasis is as gentle and kind as it is strong and powerful – much like Emily (Renee Lyons), the mother of toddler Eddie (Amelia Reid-Meredith) and a newborn. One of my favourite actresses, Lyons’ performance surprised me on the night, never quite peaking when I wanted it to but reaching unexpected heights in other moments. Nevertheless, she approached the role with tender understanding.

Bronwyn Turei (drolly aloof as Emily’s husband) and Reid-Meredith were fabulous as the chorus, working in perfect harmony to deliver snapshots of pure comedy gold. The production shone when the three worked as an ensemble – a scene involving glittery playdough was my highlight. A set trick (Wai Mihinui and Ebony Tiopira-Waaka) created a colourful, messy, and delightful stage picture and was another favourite moment of mine.

Rants in the Dark is brilliant – funny, fierce, frank, and above all, sincere.

Ellie Stewart witnessed the swan song of If/Then on Broadway in 2015. Moved by the sheer emotional force of the work, she decided to stage it in New Zealand for the very first time with The Wellington Footlights Society. How lucky for us.

If/Then follows Elizabeth (Cassandra Tse), a city planner living in New York. While in the park one day, she receives a phone call that changes her life. Beth answers the phone, but Liz doesn’t. And so opens a parallel universe. We walk down two paths: the If of Liz, and the Then of Beth.

This Wellington Footlights production is polished to perfection, with delicious harmonies from a committed, talented ensemble. Each member is exquisitely energised and perfectly in sync with the next. It’s excellent ensemble work with enthusiastic choreography from Katty Lau. At times though I craved a little less action.

I found some of the blocking quite distracting. During a poignant scene, an exerciser zealously stretched stage left, pulling focus from the tender moment taking place centre stage. Distracting too were clunky changes of scenery (the images adorning the three frames lining the back of the stage), but most importantly, I often found my line of vision obstructed. Staging a full-scale musical in a small space can foster serious intimacy. Not being able to see the emotion etched on the actors’ faces pulled me out of the play and meant it had less impact on me overall.

Of course, that’s not to say I didn’t cry! Tse’s phenomenal performance had me all of a blubber, the purity, clarity, and power of her voice outstanding. My companion and I particularly enjoyed Caitlin Penrose’s sincere portrayal of Kate, and Michael Stebbings’ superb comedic timing as Lucas. Playing Stephen, Chris McMillan’s unique, gravelly voice was the standout for me, though each cast member should be commended for their vocal work under the expert guidance of musical director Cameron Stewart.

If/Then is a supremely entertaining production that will hit you right in the gut.

Every year The Imperial Russian Ballet Company return to New Zealand and complete an extensive national tour of some of the most beloved ballets. This year's line-up was a triple bill featuring Sleeping Beauty, Carmen, and Les Sylphides.

The evening opened with Sleeping Beauty and the marriage between Princess Aurora and Prince Désiré. The stage was alight with colour and vibrant fairy-tale characters presenting refined balletic form. Nariman Bekzhanov as Prince Désiré performed well and with ease, while Puss in Boots and the White Cat delighted the audience with their spirited pas de deux. Though one cannot fault the technique and dedication the dancers possess, it was hard to ignore the missteps, the somewhat plain choreography, and the ingenuity of the overextended smiles and melodramatic gestures.

There was a change in the order of the programme and Carmen marked the second act, lifting the standards of the evening slightly. Anna Pashakova performed the role of the tempestuous Carmen with graceful defiance and bold seduction, her pointe work and timing remarkable. The drama of the piece was heightened by the presence of a chorus of bandits who sat forebodingly in a semi-circle, stiffly poised and ready to crusade, while Carmen's suitors, Don José and the Toreador, danced in fierce competition and with intense determination.

The final act was an excerpt of Les Sylphides, a work with no narrative but a beautiful aesthetic. Set to the musical score of Chopin, Les Sylphides is a romantic and dreamy corps de ballet, performed by female dancers with elegant integrity and unfaltering discipline. Adorned in flowing white tutus and with beautiful extensions and delicate hand movements, the dancers created a vivid picture of serenity and grace. Bekzhanov, as the wandering poet, is enchanted by the Sylphs but serves no other real purpose – this piece is all about the women in the company and is a delight to watch.

A Russian Triple Bill had its moments and plenty enjoyed it, but it was by no means ground-breaking ballet.

Puccini’s masterpiece, Madam Butterfly, opens with Lieutenant BF Pinkerton (Boyd Owen) marvelling at his new Japanese home. It’s so practical! So handsome! And just like his new Japanese wife, Butterfly (Hannah Catrin Jones), he can toss it off any time he likes. Thus the tragic love story of Madam Butterfly begins: with an opportunistic American and a kind-hearted young woman. By the end of the show, her delicate wings have been squashed underneath his foolish, selfish feet.

Madam Butterfly is the first opera I’ve ever been to – and I’m so glad I started with this one. Not only was this Eternity Opera production in English, but it was intimate, well-acted, and compelling. A few notes for my fellow novices: all dialogue is sung, even if it’s only a line; the style of operatic singing is such that you may not catch every single word; and it definitely helps to know the bones of the story before the lights go down.

The three leads, Owen, Jones, and Kieran Rayner (playing Sharpless), sounded impeccable to my ears. I loved when they sang together, their combined voices effortlessly lifting over the compact orchestra tucked to the side of the stage.

They were also superb actors. Jones was heart-breaking and appropriately fragile as Butterfly; I’m pretty sure that during her vigil for Pinkerton’s return, she didn’t so much as blink. And Leo McKenzie as her young son almost stole the show in his tiny sailor suit.

The only thing that struck me after the show was how un-Japanese it was. There was a distinct lack of Japanese cast members, and as the piece had been re-contextualised to the 1950s, the costumes were western. I would like to have seen a show where the two cultures had collided more visually, more viscerally, and more strangely.

That said, Madam Butterfly and Eternity Opera have made an opera fan out of me. Who would have thought it!

In a sad shack in Aro Valley, Camilla Miller (Gavin Rutherford) and her son, Arthur Miller (Ben Emerson), struggle to get by. Hoping to catch a break after the death of Mr Miller, the family is excited to receive his last will and testament by way of NZ Post (/the supermarket/the lotto shop/the liquor store). That is, until they discover he’s squandered every last cent of his hard-earned dough during a mid-life crisis. He does, however, leave them one thing: a cat (Jonathan Morgan). The cat talks. And, well. You know the rest.

Puss in Boots The Pantomime is absolutely, unequivocally delightful. My colleague and I had a blast and frequently found ourselves in hysterics. If you’re a kid, go. If you’re an adult with kids, go. If you’re an adult without kids, go. If you’re a cat, go. Anyone and everyone should see this show if they’re seeking a fantastic night out at the theatre and a belly full of laughs.

This was one of my favourite performances of Rutherford’s, whose ad-libbing was a show (and year) highlight. Ben Emerson was suitably silly and wide-eyed as the Dame’s parkour-practising son, while Simon Leary added a sensitive touch to the cast as the gormless King Justin. Morgan’s sultry, slinky Puss in Boots was beautifully balanced against Natasha McAllister’s sweet yet sassy Princess Martha (hiya!).

Carrie Green and Jeff Kingsford-Brown nearly stole the show as the nasty trolls (boo!). Their performance of The Logical Song by Supertramp (incredible musical direction by Michael Nicholas Williams) was the best unexpected musical number I’ve witnessed at the theatre for a very long time.

It’s a well-known fact that Circa’s annual pantomime features adult jokes, and last year I commented that I found some of them inappropriate for children. I felt there was a marked improvement this year, with the lewdness less explicit and not nearly as likely to cause unwanted questions around the dinner table.

I cannot recommend Puss in Boots The Pantomime highly enough. Go!

Actual Fact begins when three women witness a series of simultaneous, bizarre events. K (Karin McCracken), M (Madeline McNamara), and F (Freya Finch) are happily exchanging jokes when a fan turns on out of its own accord, a tarpaulin lights up, and two green buckets fall over. A satsuma and a cabbage are also involved, but I won’t spoil anything here.

For the rest of the show, the characters attempt to piece together the inciting incident. Each time they recount the events, they change the details of the narrative ever so slightly. It’s something we all do, but don’t care to admit. By the end of Actual Fact, even the audience is not entirely sure what happened, and nobody knows what it all means – but we’ve had fun trying to work it out alongside the exceptional cast.

Technical design elements are a focal point and highlight of this production. With cyclical videography by Charley Draper, Meg Rollandi, and Isobel MacKinnon; bass-heavy, distortive sound design by Thomas Lambert; and hypnotic, hazy lighting by Owen McCarthy (a design team at the top of their game, overseen by technical manager Michael Trigg), plus rhythmic and repetitive dialogue, I regularly found myself sinking into a trance. Rather than fight that temptation, I’d encourage the viewer to embrace it. In a dream-like state, I was able to insert my own memories and meanings into the script. This meant Actual Fact took me on an entirely subjective journey of my own experiences, and resonated more deeply as a result. I found myself exploring how I might have subverted my history, which I suspect is one of Rollandi and MacKinnon’s ambitions for the work.

Add to this stellar performances from a balanced, adroit cast, and you’ve got a winner. It’s a show you have to be in the right mood for, but if you’re willing to embrace Actual Fact, you’ll have a great ride during and an abundance of food for thought afterwards.

Sam runs the Saleyards Café in Feilding. A local institution, his customers are the very definition of regulars. Always first to arrive are Walter and his dog, Jack, who would rather sit inside thank you very much. Next is the fast-talking, clueless farmer Joseph, who couldn’t fix a fence or cook a roast to save himself. And let’s not forget the lovely lady who likes to sit at the café with a cup of tea and wait for her husband – even if his “I’ll be back in one hour dear” always means three.

Craig Geenty plays all these characters and more in this one-man show that strides the seasons – a metaphor beautifully expressed in the action of the play. In just 45 minutes, we traverse a year in the lives of the Saleyards folk.

Reihana and Karla Haronga wrote Friday’s Flock about the real Saleyards Café in Feilding, where it has been performed countless times for the patrons who inspired it. The authenticity of this process shines through, not just in the crafting of such genuine, believable, and lovable characters, but in the staging of the work as a whole.

The set (constructed by Blair Ryan) resembles a small-town café to a tee. No detail has been overlooked; it even boasts a real pie warmer stocked with pea pie pud (townies like me might be baffled by this one). In this replica Saleyards interior, the audience becomes completely immersed in the world of the play.

Geenty energetically switches from one character to the next, his transitions seamless and his characterisation clear. I’m never confused about who he is playing when, and each portrayal starts off strong. However, after the initial tableau, Geenty occasionally drifts back into his natural demeanour. Nevertheless, his performance is passionate and considered.

Friday’s Flock is a tender, poetic, and sensitive work that will warm the cockles of your heart. Plus, it’s worth seeing just for Geenty’s hilarious embodiment of a dog.