Growing up, was there anything better than a sleepover with your girlfriends? I remember staying up till 10pm (gasp) talking about Pokémon with my childhood best friend, swapping stories about ghosts and crushes in primary school, and eating a bowl of melted white chocolate chips in a pillow fort with one of the cool kids from intermediate. Her dad made us pancakes the next morning and I bragged about it for months. I squeaked and squealed my way through Midnight Confessions, a nostalgic celebration of this time-honoured tradition that relishes in the joys and magic of girlhood.

Devised and directed by its performers – producer Abby Lyons, Alia Marshall (Tūhoe), Mia Oudes (Te Arawa), and Anna Barker – Midnight Confessions is neatly structured to take audiences on a journey through the ages (literally). Sleepovers between groups of gals aged 10, 16, 17, 19, and 20-something are interspersed with open-mic snippets of the secrets they whisper to each other at midnight. Transitions are clearly demarcated thanks to production designer Rebekah de Roo (AV, set, and lighting), whose stage is softly lit and pastel hued, lined with pillows and draped in princess nets. It is here that, with a twinkle in its eye, Midnight Confessions sends gasps and giggles of recognition bouncing round BATS Theatre as it reminds us of everything from playing “Romeo and Juliet doing kissing” to spending our birthday money on the Cookie Monster t-shirts from Jay Jays.

What goes up must come down, right? Not in the vignette Gone Fishing, a killer of an opening scene (after the impeccably choreographed dance number, of course) that traces the unfortunate misplacement of a moon cup. Comedic performances play out to a chorus of bark laughs from the crowd. But Midnight Confessions isn’t afraid to venture into the hairy parts of growing up either. Highlights include the aching Letters to Lucy and Sheet Girl, which ends in a tender kiss as one girl realises the other feels the same.

Charming, funny, and special, Midnight Confessions is woven together with the heartstrings of female friendships.

In a dirty, drought-ridden city where water is a precious commodity, citizens must pay for the privilege of… peeing. Under the all-seeing eye of mega corporation UGC (Urine Good Company), helmed by Caldwell B Cladwell (the brilliant Monēt Faifai-Collins), public urination is outlawed and anyone who breaks the rules is picked up by the police and hauled off to Urinetown, never to be seen again.

As born-leader Bobby Strong (a feverish and fiery Mackenzie Htay) tires of the status quo, the spirit of resistance and rebellion grows – despite the best efforts of toll collector Penelope Pennywise (the vocally gifted Corrie Milne). But any potential uprising against UGC and Cladwell’s cronies – Mr McQueen (Josh Franken, a hilarious highlight), Senator Fipp (a suitably snivelly Christopher Horne), and more – is complicated by Bobby’s blossoming relationship with the doe-eyed Hope Cladwell (an enchanting Maddi Barnes). And Hope is not a favourite amongst the rebels, especially not Hot Blades Harry (a terrifying, riveting Logan Tahiwi) and Little Becky Two Shoes (the snarling Marilyn Mansilla)…

With book and lyrics by Greg Kotis and music and lyrics by Mark Hollmann, Urinetown: The Musical is a delightfully ridiculous, meta musical that regularly breaks the fourth wall – courtesy of narrator Officer Lockstock (Maya Gatling, who crushes a massive role with comedy and panache) and his sidekick Little Sally (Emily Holden, who rightly scores some big laughs) – to poke fun of not only itself, but musicals at large. Underneath the satire and black comedy, it explores poignant themes of poverty, politics, and corruption. Presented by students of the Whitireia and WelTec New Zealand Diploma in Performing Arts – Musical Theatre programme, this production of Urinetown: The Musical combines all moving parts into a visual and aural stage spectacular that you simply must see.

Michael Trigg (lighting) and Scott Maxim (set) have melded minds and magic to create the vibrant backdrop upon which the pitch-perfect cast and ensemble (music director Kate Marshall-Crowe) nail every beat, every flourish of director Leigh Evans’ superb choreography. Talent streams all over the stage and all I have left to say is: golden. 

In this production of The Creation, Orpheus Choir Wellington endeavoured to reimagine Haydn’s famous oratorio. As with a traditional staging of an oratorio, an orchestra, choir, and voice soloists performed the full score of The Creation, but these were supported by a 1.9 tonne LED screen and dancers from Footnote New Zealand Dance.

The Creation is arguably one of the most famous oratorios, and in German-speaking countries has much the same status as Handel’s Messiah does in the anglosphere. The text is drawn from Christian scripture and Milton’s Paradise Lost and relates the story of God’s creation of the world from “let there be light” down to the early days of Adam and Eve’s life in Eden.

The enormous screen was suspended above the choir and accompanied the story’s progression though the catalogue of creation with footage of galaxies, oceans, geological features, wildlife, and fruit. The visual effects walked a line between enhancing the production and distracting from the wonderful performances. There were a few times when the imagery was more abstract, and this was when it most effective because it felt far less dominant.

The three soloists, Anna Leese (soprano), Frederick Jones (tenor), and Joel Amosa (bass), were outstanding, especially when they sang as a trio. Jones’ recitative sections were particularly gorgeous thanks to his rich tone and expressive phrasing, and Leese and Amosa’s duets with the chorus in the third movement evoked all the delight and contentment of Eden.

The third movement featured dancers Airu Matsuda and Jemima Smith as representations of Adam and Eve. Despite having only a very narrow strip of floor space to work with in front of the orchestra, Matsuda and Smith managed to deliver a sensitive and affectionate performance to accompany one of the most beautiful passages in the oratorio.

Orchestra Wellington and Orpheus Choir Wellington provided the foundation of the production from the first disquieting bars of Representation of Chaos through to the triumphant finale Praise the Lord, Ye Voices All. It was wonderful to see so many local artistic elements come together in this innovative production.

Even if you didn’t know Helios is the god of the sun, Carl Nielsen’s wonderfully evocative Helios Overture had us listening to the sun rise, move across the sky, and set over the sea. This was clever programming to open the concert and was beautifully played.

Spontaneous applause from the audience marked the end of the first movement of Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto in D Major. The whole piece is regarded as one of the harder violin concerti, but soloist Augustin Hadelich made a lie of that and simply blew us away with his performance. The first movement has some very impressive scales, triads, runs, and moments when it seems the violinist is the only one on stage, as well as one of the most ambitious cadenzas in a violin concerto. Hadelich absorbed the challenge and almost became one with his violin. Under Dima Slobodeniouk’s very attentive direction, orchestra and soloist flew along, keeping up an enviable, but not overdone speed.

If the first was his tour de force, the third movement was Hadelich’s pièce de résistance. The final cadenza was sublime, virtuosic, and a spectacular end to a very happy piece of music. Hadelich’s encore showcased almost every sound, technique, and musical style you could think of and we enjoyed every note.

The Oceanides by Jean Sibelius is one of the best musical expressions of the sea in all its moods. Storm and wind were brought magically to life by surging and receding timpani and violins and the calm that followed by oboe and harp over strings. My companion heard the wave crashing on the shore and immediately recognised it as the rocks at Kaikōura.

Debussy’s La Mer is also a glorious musical description of the sun and the sea. Slobodeniouk and the orchestra interpreted Debussy’s intent and gave us a stunning representation of our natural environment.

It was an exceptional evening. Thanks, NZSO.

I laughed, winced, gasped, and guffawed with everyone else at Deadpool & Wolverine. I think I may have been the only one scoffing and rolling my eyes though.

It’s funny, it’s what you’d expect, it scratches the itch, and it hands out cameos and Easter eggs on a silver platter for all the Marvel and X-Men fans. Its irreverence and self-awareness screams that it’s not your typical superhero movie… Except that it kind of is if you look past the cussing, the fourth-wall breaks, and the pointed jibes.

Oh, yes, in case you’re one of the three people who hasn’t heard of this franchise, I’ll catch you up. Deadpool (Ryan Reynolds) is the not-your-average-superhero superhero. He is crude, rude, and does bad things. In this third instalment, he is welcomed into the Marvel Comics Universe when he is told by the Time Variance Authority (Matthew Macfadyen) that his world has lost its anchor being – Wolverine (Hugh Jackman) – and he was deemed the only creature worth keeping. To save his timeline from extinction, Deadpool embarks on a quest to find another Wolverine but, of course, the fate of the universe is threatened along the way, and a rollicking adventure ensues.

Directed by Shawn Levy with a screenplay by Ryan Reynolds, Rhett Reese, Paul Wernick, Zeb Wells, and Levy, Deadpool & Wolverine is hilarious and outlandish. The pairing of two starkly opposite heroes gives way to many cheeky and heartfelt moments. The costumes (Graham Churchyard and Mayes C. Rubeo) are fun – Wolverine fans buckle your seatbelts – and the sets (designed by Ray Chan) are as fantastical as expected.

The jibes at Disney and Hollywood are welcome but incessant. They’re clever, true, and you feel like you’re a part of some great big inside joke, but they’re overcompensating. I think Alissa Wilkinson sums it up best in The New York Times: “now that the jabs are coming from inside the house, it hits different. On the one hand, ‘Disney’s so stupid.’ On the other hand, Disney paid for this movie, and we pay them to watch it”.

A raunchy and rip-roaring ride, Deadpool & Wolverine delivers what it promises – just don’t look too deep inside the suits.

Fragmented, disjointed, and at odds with itself – strangely, the state of Denmark and the recesses of Hamlet’s mind echo each other. A crumbling, dystopian world held together by technology is the reality in which Hamlet – One Hour. Three Actors. Denmark Will Never Be the Same. unfolds.

Framed by five draped white frames that function as walls, corridors, curtains, doors, and screens upon which SPLITelevision can project videos, the set (designed by Jo Marsh) is malleable, much like Hamlet’s feeble mental state.

The script is distilled down to its essence, adapted and directed by Jo Marsh to take a trauma-informed approach. From this comes a crafted environment in which we lean into mental health issues and interpersonal relationships. Our ill-tempered, tortured, and gently portrayed Hamlet’s (Shaun Swain) sanity, already a hotly contested element in any rendition, is made all the more uncertain through various techniques.

By imposing a state of constant surveillance, Hamlet’s bouts of madness appear much more performative. Hamlet knows that every text he sends, every word he utters is watched, making his plan to feign lunacy all the more believable. However when video call screens double as ghostly apparitions, we begin to doubt what is real and what is his imagination.

From Ophelia to Queen Gertrude, Horatio to King Claudius, every other character is played by Helen Vivienne Fletcher and Hamish Boyle, who flit between roles at the drop of a hat with tremendous skill. Though scarves worn in different styles are brilliantly used to differentiate characters, their colour illustrating family relationships, Hamlet’s lunacy is compounded as everyone around him looks the same. Who can he trust when his world is so corrupt? In this genius technical choice, everyone blurs into one.

By the time we reach the final throws I’m engrossed and enraptured despite knowing the inevitable end, and I come to the conclusion that in a world governed by tech, “there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so”.

The three works on the programme had one thing in common. The composers, Stravinsky, Hindemith, and Korngold, all borrowed from earlier composers to create their works: Stravinsky from Tchaikovsky, Hindemith from von Weber (who in turn borrowed from Chinese musical traditions), and Korngold from his earlier self, greatly influenced by Mahler’s style. As conductor Marc Taddei said, the programme was a neoclassical ode to romanticism. I thought the orchestra was in top form throughout.

Stravinsky’s The Fairy’s Kiss, written for a ballet and so rife with storytelling, was a delight. It had endless charm and sweetness, interspersed with dark moments, mischief, ominous foreboding, and grief. Its soloistic opportunities for clarinet, flute, oboe, horn and cello were all beautifully played.

Hindemith’s Symphonic Metamorphosis on Themes by Carl Maria von Weber was more exotic and more dramatic with great passages for both brass and percussion. The quieter, more sombre moments and the eastern elements in the second movement did not last long before giving way to drama and energy. The work’s romantic origins shone through; it was lush, even sweet at times. The orchestra let its hair down for this one.

To illustrate the eastern influence in Hindemith’s work, Taddei brought to the stage Jia Ling, a musician highly skilled on the guzheng, an ancient Chinese zither which produces an elegant, sweet, and mellow sound like a bucolic waterfall. A beautiful interlude.

Korngold was a famous composer for Hollywood films who later returned to concert music. He used his own earlier movie themes to create his Violin Concerto. Not surprisingly, this work too was lush and full of wide-open American spaces. Amalia Hall was the soloist. Her outstanding virtuosic technique was absolutely on top of the work’s huge challenges. The audience summoned her back for an encore, also stunningly performed.

This was another night of pleasure and education from Taddei and Orchestra Wellington.

Lizzie the Musical strikes you in the face from the very first handlebar and grinds relentlessly until the curtain rolls. This rage-ridden punk-rock musical reimagines the gripping true crime case of Lizzie Borden, whose father and stepmother were found bludgeoned to death by axe in their own home in Fall River, Massachusetts in the sweltering summer of 1892.

While no one was ever charged for the gruesome murders, by the sixth song of Lizzie the Musical (the aching, sickening The Soul of the White Bird), any ambiguity is well and truly cut. The writers have here made an interesting decision. Because most audiences know the real Lizzie was acquitted, the stakes are lowered in the traditional sense, especially in the trial scenes of the second act. But this isn’t a whodunnit; it’s a why. And in the hands of WITCH Music Theatre, you could cut the tension and suspense with an axe.

Backed by a killer live band led by conductor Hayden Taylor (piano), dressed to period perfection by costume designer Rhys Tunley, and with skills honed and sharpened by vocal director Maya Handa Naff, the exceptional cast simply slays.

Bailea Twomey conducts the room, executing a pitch-perfect performance that is equal parts harrowing and heart-rending, malevolent and maniacal as Lizzie Borden. I often can’t take my eyes off Jane Leonard, who burns with a smouldering fire as Emma Borden, while Rachel McSweeney is breathtakingly pure as Alice Russel. I catch myself reflecting Aimée Sullivan’s fixed, devilish grin back to her; her turn as sly maid Bridget ‘Maggie’ Sullivan is wicked to watch.

A convergence of creativity from directors Ben Tucker-Emerson and Greta Casey-Solly (the choreographer to boot), lighting designer Alex Fisher, and set designer Joshua Tucker-Emerson results in a striking moment of stage magic: a wonderfully witchy tableau of three women around a billowing fire.

Where polish and professionalism meet raw, knuckle-whitening grit, WITCH’s shocking and salacious, seething and sharp Lizzie the Musical will have you on the axe-edge of your seat. It’s loud, it’s unapologetic, and I never thought I’d say this, but move over Taylor Swift: this is Female Rage: The Musical.

Robert Schumann’s Symphony No. 4 in D Minor is actually the second symphony he wrote but, 10 years after its disappointing premiere, he revised it. This is what we know as Symphony No. 4. A sombre start gave way to lyrical passages and big brass chords. This characterises the whole symphony – a combination of classical and romantic styles, and themes repeated throughout. Conductor André de Ridder skilfully managed the handoffs and interplay between moods and the changes in orchestration. The dignified restraint of brass and timpani in the fourth movement tipped joyously into the whole orchestra, ending in a playful mood.

Jean Sibelius never fulfilled his dream of being a virtuoso violinist, but he wrote his Violin Concerto in D Minor for those who are. It is famously difficult to play and when a virtuoso takes on the challenge, you know they will give you everything they’ve got. Because it is incredibly tough and demanding, we hear it relatively often. Maxim Vengerov’s performance was so exceptional, it was almost like hearing it for the first time.

He opened with breathtaking bravura, an intense, rich tone, and passion we could hear, see, and feel, all of which were sustained the whole way through. De Ridder brought a similar depth and richness of tone from the orchestra that complemented the solo passages. Both orchestra and soloist make the whole work, but it is really all about the solo violin, and Vengerov made at least as much impact alone, if not more, than the orchestra did as a whole. A standing ovation from a full house confirmed Vengerov, de Ridder, and the NZSO had surely fulfilled Sibelius’ dreams for his concerto.

Guest soloists are generous with their talent and we heard the second movement of Henryk Wieniawski’s Violin Concerto No. 2 as an encore. Vengerov added something special to the evening when he turned to the orchestra’s violinists and played for them.