Shows

The New Zealand Government’s change to the give way rule in 2012 is not the most obvious premise for a musical, but it works. Through witty lyrics, gentle mockery of bureaucracy, and less-gentle criticism of people who are enraged against change, Give Way – The Musical is a highly entertaining couple of hours.

As a new work, it feels somewhat unfinished. The score is purely piano, albeit expertly executed by Hayden Taylor. More orchestration would elevate the mood of each song and clearly differentiate them. More ensemble numbers with harmonies would be good too. When the cast do get to harmonise, it sounds amazing. What lifts the production to being worthy of the Circa One stage is the quality of the casting and the technical aspects.

As protagonist Sophie, Lily Tyler Moore is a strong performer, anchoring the story with her excellent vocals. Jackson Burling as her love interest is delightful. He, like the rest of the cast, deftly plays multiple roles. Carrie Green is engaging as policy wonk Tanya and the moments where she shines vocally are highlights. Bronwyn Turei is equally engaging and her activist Nic and Sophie’s dad are standouts. Alex Greig excels in creating a sympathetic but entertaining portrait of Randall, the unhinged policy advisor who originally changed the give way rule.

Tony de Goldi’s excellent set design is reminiscent of a roundabout on which the actors move a wheeled table and a few office chairs to create the scenes. Vertical panels around the outside remind me of the mats I used to play on with toy cars as a child. Goldi’s accompanying wardrobe design is also spot on, with the walk shorts and socks combo instantly recognisable as the public service uniform of the 1970s. Excellent lighting design by Will Smith adds visual interest and the falling rain effect early in the first half is a wonderful surprise.

Only Wellington creatives could successfully make a musical about policy change!

Your favourite Mancunian soap opera gets the comedic parody treatment over five cliff-hanging episodes in Coro, thanks to local improv maestros Nina Hogg and Austin Harrison. Whether you’re a three-times-a-week Coronation Street devotee or an inexperienced newbie to Manchester’s best-known cobbled street, you’re bound to laugh your knitted socks off in this 50-minute show.

Be prepared to be part of the action too. The whole audience is encouraged to join in with the theme tune at the start of each episode, accompanied by Hogg and Harrison on kazoo, squeaky recorder, or barely grade one clarinet. The front couple of rows of audience are also co-opted to be wardrobe minders, tossing ties, woolly jumpers, cardis, leopard-print jackets, flat caps, and bald heads to the two actors as needed.

Playing several characters each, often two at the same time (or even three in one hilarious scene from Hogg), both actors are a non-stop whirl of energy, embodying each famous identity beautifully. Despite concerns expressed pre-show, their Manchester accents are on point and their vocal delivery varied and expressive.

Several plots roll through the five episodes and are neatly tied together by the end, starting with a fatal train crash and ending with the birth of a baby – also tossed from the audience in a moment of comic genius – to teen parents. All your favourite soap tropes are here, including confusion over a non-existent extra-marital affair, mixed-up medical prescriptions, inter-generational strife, and superannuitant dating apps.

The sort of show that could be performed anywhere, Coro needs only simple lighting changes between scenes and a few props to facilitate its superlative performers and clever writing. Hogg and Harrison are taking the show to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival later this year and I’m sure it’ll go down like a two-storey terraced house on fire.

Britain’s longest-running TV soap is ripe for parody and Coro manages to strike the balance between entertainment and upholding the relatable, working-class core that has made the show so successful. Best of luck in Edinburgh, team!

If a goofy, funny, heartfelt, heroic adventure is what your little one enjoys, then KidzStuff Theatre for Children’s Badjelly the Witch is the show to check out these school holidays!

Meet the lovely brother-and-sister duo of Rose (Adriana Calabrese) and Tim (Haydn Carter) as they look for their beloved cow Lucy (Calabrese and Carter), who was stolen by Badjelly (wonderfully portrayed by creative director Amalia Calder) and her giant Dulboot (Dryw McArthur).

Joining in on their adventure, the set and props (creatively designed by Andrew and Laura Loach) transport you between the different locations of the story and introduce you to all the cute characters that help Rose and Tim find their beloved cow. Alongside these friends that we meet along the way, the enthusiastic audience ventures through forests and mountains to bring Lucy home. Technical manager Deb McGuire creates magic by changing the vibrant lighting, music (Geoff Davidson, with lyrics by John Cairney), and sound effects on cue with the scenes. And from a little person’s perspective, when the theatre illuminates red, we all know what that means!

The costumes and puppets are colourful and bring the characters to life with talented voice acting from Calder and McArthur. Davidson’s music brings the show together so well and Cairney’s fun lyrics have everyone dancing and chiming in. The audience is on edge to see what happens next, and the cast improvises beautifully to interact with us during the show, which keeps us all on our toes – and not just the kids amongst us!

Of course, after every show, I always love to ask Mister Six what his favourite part was. “My favourite was the cricket, the witch, and the giant!” Full of surprises, Badjelly the Witch has the audience pitching in with the rescue, belly laughing all the way.

We love chaos, mess, magic, and a good belly laugh! Kitchen Chaos ticks all the boxes and so much more.

In Kitchen Chaos, Spray (Lizzie Tollemache), Wipe (Darlene Mohekey), and the whole audience are invited to a surprise birthday party. Everyone is so excited and we all help prepare for the surprise. Wipe is so goofy, with a weakness for chippies and cake, and often comes up with brilliant ideas that Spray goes along with. While goofing around, there is an accident and the duo needs to fix the situation pronto. They enlist the help of the audience, a very helpful cookbook named Edmonds (voiced by original production director Greg Cooper), and some magic!

The colourful set and props (production design by Rollicking Entertainment) enhance the magical experience. The magic itself is mind-blowing – just some of the reactions I overhear are “wow,” “that’s unbelievable,” and “how did they do that?” The sound effects and lights are on cue and create hilarious scenes.

The playful and mischievous vibe is so contagious that Mister Six could not stop laughing, dancing, and just wanted to join in the fun. The magic intrigued him so much that when we got to meet Spray and Wipe after the show, he had to know how they did it. He also showed them his dancing skills and we all danced together in the foyer. They were happy to indulge their newfound fans with photo opportunities and high fives!

He was still dancing as we left, and we were having a good giggle when we discussed the show afterwards. His favourite parts were the magic, Spray and Wipe being stuck together when they high fived, and the sneaker juice! Guess what, though? Kitchen Chaos had me laughing even harder than my son at some stages. Bringing out the excited kid in all of us, we had the best fun and laughs at this must-see show.

Are you one of the Fish People? Even if you’re not and have no idea what that means, there’s still much to enjoy in this Kate Bush tribute show cum comedy cabaret. If you are one of the Fish People (i.e. Bush’s die-hard fans), you’ll be hoarse by the end, so frequent are the opportunities to sing along with Sarah-Louise Young’s impressive vocals in An Evening Without Kate Bush.

Bush’s fans are nothing if not supportive and the spirit of collective celebration is strongly encouraged through Young’s frequent audience engagement. Don’t sit in the first couple of rows if you’re shy about being lured to the stage. One brave couple slow danced to Don’t Give Up while Young sang Bush’s part beautifully.

While not trying to do a straight impression of one of pop’s quirkiest divas, Young pulls off a spirited and highly entertaining homage. Her powerful voice doesn’t quite have Bush’s freakishly huge range, but who other than Kent’s favourite daughter could sing the opening notes of Wuthering Heights? Young, to her credit, doesn’t try. Her renditions of Bush’s biggest hits and some lesser-known B sides are stunning and her ability to pull off Bush’s signature dance moves is astonishing and hilarious by turns. The comedy highlight is a rendition of Babooshka in Russian, including its correct pronunciation of BAH-booshka.

Stage manager Will Spartalis becomes an unintended star when Young’s head mic battery fails not once but twice. Young’s stellar ability to improvise song lyrics about buying more double As at the supermarket makes this technical glitch even funnier.

With just a red leotard plus various add-on costume pieces and wigs, a few props, and some fantastically creative lighting effects (all by Young), the performer’s segues between songs are a joy to watch and keep the show flowing.

If you want to howl with the Hounds of Love, go Running Up That Hill with the other Fish People, or snigger knowingly at the Stranger Things reference, you can’t go wrong with An Evening Without Kate Bush.

Leni Riefenstahl was Hitler’s beautiful and brilliant filmmaker, creating the Third Reich propaganda-fest Triumph of the Will for him. She also documented the 1936 Berlin Olympics, her last film to achieve a theatrical release in the wake of her post-war fall from grace in Europe and Hollywood. Throughout her life, she clung to the belief that she was innocent and knew nothing about the Nazi atrocities and that she, like millions of others, had fallen under the spell of a charismatic dictator.

Jan Bolwell’s new one-woman play delves into Riefenstahl’s mindset with a first-person commentary on her rise and fall and fervent self-defence of her role in the Holocaust. She was a strong and self-possessed young woman who, through her drive and lack of qualms about manipulating men through sex, rose to artistic heights in dance, theatre, and film before meeting Hitler and reading Mein Kampf.

Helen Todd’s production design is simple yet beautiful. A long oblong of white light defines the area in which Bolwell moves. On the back wall is a projected sequence of black and white photos in front of which are two tall, clear Perspex panels that divert slanted images onto the stage floor. This is a brilliant creative touch that lends a wonderfully cinematic quality to the whole. Bolwell’s simple black dress adds to the monochrome effect. Music composed by Jan Bolton and sound effects (Neal Barber) provide a soundscape that effectively supports the narrative.

Bolwell owns the stage, resisting the urge to descend into hyperbole and passion to deliver Riefenstahl’s deeply vain view of herself. By the end, my friend and I agreed we didn’t buy her version of the truth, which was clearly the point. As Bolwell states in the programme, we’re veering again towards fascist autocracies and the excuse of being blinded by charisma is one that’s far too easy to hide behind. Supping with the Devil makes the past real and relevant through one woman’s self-delusion.

Solarise is an original musical from Wellingtonian Ruby Kemp that explores the impact of impending apocalypse on relationships, passion projects, and power structures. This musical feels like the love child of Don’t Look Up and Rent, both projects that contend with existential threats, and asks us to consider the fragility of human connections and the resilience of hope amid looming catastrophe.

The musicality and vocal styles, overseen by musical director Michael Stebbings and assistant musical director Stephen Clothier, and the selective use of movement and dance from choreographer Celia Macdonald, are in service of the storytelling and support narrative clarity. There are some off-key phrases, but the ensemble pieces are strong, especially the rock number We’re Gonna Riot. The offstage five-piece band are excellent.

Several actors are double cast or alternate between ensemble and character roles. Wardrobe (Emily K Brown) is used consistently to identify characters, allowing for quick transitions. The set, designed by Anne-Lisa Noordover, and props by Deb Maguire, are aesthetically consistent and ground the production in a gritty, believably untidy world. However, the cardboard radio feels out of place amid the other realistic set pieces. The use of a multi-set, with the workshop and home sets permanently in view and the central unlocalised acting area or plateau in the middle, is a smart choice that facilitates the frequent scene changes.

Lighting (Ruby Kemp) and sound design (Victoria Norgrove) are used unobtrusively and effectively support the narrative, with some lovely projections from Scott Maxim. Nonetheless, I feel these effects could be pushed further, especially since the characters frequently refer to auroras, and sequences featuring rocket launches and rioting could benefit from enhanced visual and auditory elements. Projections also help locate the action in time, an essential feature given that the narrative makes many time jumps back and forth within a five-year period.

The Wellington Footlights Society’s Solarise is an ambitious and heartfelt production. Ruby Kemp must be commended for conceiving of and creating a work of this scale.

Any musical that promises “adult themes/coarse language” on its programme cover is off to a great start and The Toxic Avenger: The Musical – with book by Joe DiPietro, music by David Bryan, and lyrics by both – delivers in green-tainted shovelfuls. Based on Lloyd Kaufman’s comedy splatter films, this is a devilishly funny, filthy, and fantastical deep dive into superhero comic tropes.

Our protagonist is nerdy Melvin Ferd III (Corey Moir) who, with the assistance of his love interest, the blind librarian Sarah (Millie Fuller), uncovers the dodgy dealings of the randy Mayor (Kirsty Huszka) of Tromaville, New Jersey. An unceremonious dunking in a vat of industrial waste by the town bullies (Carys Tidy and Richie Rewa) transforms him into Toxie, a “mutant with superhuman strength” who can rip people’s heads off without blinking his eviscerated eye. Will he save Tromaville? Will the Mayor discover his kryptonite? Will he get the girl? Will he ever fit that dangling eyeball back inside its socket?

The cast is fantastic, delivering every song and role with high energy and gusto. They clearly love the show and passion oozes out of every performance. Huszka doubles as Toxie’s gutsy mum. The song Bitch/Slut/Liar/Whore, in which she rapidly alternates between Ma Ferd and the Mayor, is a stunning highlight in an exceptional show. Tidy and Rewa as the Dudette and Dude pull off a mind-boggling collection of characters with absolute commitment and versatility. Moir is electric, expertly balancing the soft heart of Melvin with the outsized strength of Toxie. Fuller is charming and hilarious as Sarah. Her song My Big French Boyfriend is another standout.

A huge shoutout to transformation specialists Polly Crone and Stephen Edwards for the spectacular change of Melvin into Toxie. Rewa’s set and scenic design also deserve special mention for their clever versatility and comic-book vibe, excellently supported by Tom Smith’s lighting.

With a top-notch band and musical direction by Sue Windsor smoothly integrated with Sandy Brewer’s smart direction and Melanie Heaphy’s fun choreography, this is a superbly slick production.

Last year, I was lucky enough to catch the official premiere of Trick of the Light Theatre’s Suitcase Show, which the ‘notorious tinkerers’ built through a series of showings in site-specific venues (like a bar and a photography darkroom, where the vibes would’ve been on point) before putting the pieces together for the New Zealand Fringe Festival debut. Back then, I saw it twice in a row, with opening night technical glitches (that did little to mar the magic) already ironed out by show number two.

Suitcase Show is currently travelling the length and the breadth of the country on a nine-date national tour. The Hannah Playhouse stop (number seven on the tour and my third viewing) is polished to black-mirror perfection. Whilst this boxset of dark tales continues to tighten, sharpen, and evolve, its eerie essence remains unchanged: as spine-tingling and as evocative as ever.

At an airport with a connection to make, a solo traveller (Ralph McCubbin Howell) is flagged and pulled aside by a rigid and robotic customs officer (Hannah Smith) who doesn’t like surprises. During screening, he unpacks and unfolds the story of each suitcase like origami.

From a little matchbox girl to a burly bear, an outcast autocrat to a prophetic shadow, an ambitious astronaut to a Red Right Hand hankering for the business lounge, McCubbin Howell brings characters to life in ways audiences would never expect – as evidenced by the sharp intakes of breath and shudders of delight rippling through the theatre.

With each suitcase containing its own little universe, the design team – sound and composition by Tane Upjohn-Beatson; additional composition by Robyn Bryant; videography by Dean Hewison; figurines by Jon Coddington; and craft and prop design by Smith and McCubbin Howell alongside Rebekah de Roo, Romina Meneses, and Emory Otto; with production and technical design collaboration from Brad Gledhill and Rachel Marlow of Filament Eleven 11 – should be rebranded as world-builders.

Trick of the Light’s Suitcase Show is a one-hour masterclass in storytelling and stagecraft.

Tormented by writer’s block, Will Shakespeare (Christopher Horne) attempts to write his next play. However, when he meets his muse, Viola De Lesseps (Yasmine Alani), it draws the attention of many, making the staging of his production of Romeo and Juliet increasingly difficult. 

Adapted from Marc Norman and Tom Stoppard’s 1998 film of the same name, Lee Hall’s Shakespeare in Love is an easy-to-watch play about pursuing your dreams, no matter what obstacles society puts in your way. Viola, for instance, defies convention (and the law) to become an actor in an industry of men. Hashtag women in male fields! While Hall’s script is often hilarious, it occasionally pokes fun of women too, which surprises me given that the story feels inherently feminist.  

When it comes to Wellington Repertory Theatre’s lively production of Shakespeare in Love, the impressive live band (led by musical director Kathryn Ennis) provides a lovely soundtrack that helps root the play in Elizabethan England. The wardrobe (led by Anne de Geus) is spectacular. From wimples to the bedazzled Queen Elizabeth I dress (worn by Catherine McMechan), the costumes are a show in and of themselves.

I feel that the blocking doesn’t always suit the theatre-in-the-round seating arrangement, which often results in the action being obstructed by the bodies of performers – especially when so many people are on stage. There are many moments I can’t see because of where I am seated and how the actors are positioned. Despite this, there are plenty of standout performers, just some of which include Horne, who plays a hilariously lovesick Will, and the equally comedic Rio Futschek Ryan, who shines as Henslowe. Alani graces the stage with elegance as the determined and strong Viola, and I admire all her quick changes. Finnian Nacey also brings much laughter as Sam and Juliet. One cannot forget Equinox as Spot the Dog, who is a total scene stealer.

Presented in a strikingly cinematic way and memorable for its ensemble feel, this Wellington Repertory Theatre production is bound to make you laugh. Head upstage to Gryphon Theatre and I’m sure you’ll also fall in love with Shakespeare in Love.

Colin McColl, after 18 years with Auckland Theatre Company, has returned to Wellington to direct Noël Coward’s Blithe Spirit. The farce centres on a séance gone wrong at the home of Charles Condomine (Phil Peleton), a sceptical novelist who has invited the famed medium Madame Arcati (Ginette McDonald) into his home in order to gather material for his next book. But Madame Arcarti’s otherworldly powers prove all too real, and Charles and his new husband Rudi (Simon Leary) find themselves sharing their home with the ghost of Charles’ dead wife Elvira (Laura Hill).

This production makes an effort to modernise the 1941 play, with some choices hitting the mark. The gender swapping and re-queering of the story are effective approaches. The script has been cleverly, lightly tweaked to make both Charles and his dead wife Elvira bisexual. The changes align with the risqué and socially insightful voice of Coward and help a modern audience to feel his radical edge.

On the other hand, a confusing combination of garments and set pieces makes it unclear which period we are in, and the set (John Parker) doesn’t feel luxurious enough for a modern household with the fulltime domestic staff who feature in the action. While these may have been conscious decisions, the incongruity became a distraction for us. Some of the costumes (Nic Smillie) are very fun, but Rudi’s costumes each feel like they belong to a different person, rather than reinforcing characterisation.

We are treated to a standout performance from Hera Dunleavy, who is double cast as Edith and Mrs Bradman. I failed to realise these two characters were being played by the same actor until we read the programme at interval, a testimony to her transformative physicality. As Mrs Bradman she is hysterical, with a subtle understanding of the inner life and absurdities of the character. Together with Peter Hambleton as her husband she portrays a long-married couple, with perfectly timed deliveries that make the most of Coward’s astutely observed one-liners.

Borderline Arts Ensemble, the multi-disciplinary group co-directed by Lucy Marinkovich and Lucien Johnson, are known for their virtuoso dance productions. They return with a meditation on nocturnal themes that pairs the serene piano compositions of Johnson with the movement work of dancers Marinkovich and Michael Parmenter.

Martyn Roberts’ lighting design is a crucial element of the production. The show is set against the black void of a profoundly dark stage, and lighting is used to construct positive spaces within that. Gauzy fabrics suspended from the ceiling become enormous vessels filled with illuminated smoke or water. Puppetry brings us birds and moons floating in black, empty air, while mirrors and shadow-work play with our depth perception.

 As our dances explore these spaces, movement seems to be a secondary concern to imagery. There is minimal connection between the two dancers, or between the dancers and the audience. It feels more like visiting a series of art installations or watching a film than participating in a live performance. That said, this feeling of abstraction is part of the strange beauty of The Night Has A Thousand Eyes.

Indeed, much of the show explores imagery from early film. Parmenter dons an overcoat and watches the moon under streetlights before commencing a contemplative, slow tap dance worthy of the most stoic of film noir leading men. In a vignette reminiscent of Loïe Fuller’s serpentine dance from the 1890s (which became a staple of black and white cinema), Marinkovich appears in a billowing tent of silk that hangs floor-length from her throat and whirls the fabric around into forms that evoke peonies, sea creatures, and birds. This early cinema aesthetic is supported by the minimalist and cool-toned lighting favoured by Roberts.

A quietly masterful show, The Night Has A Thousand Eyes is a balm and curiosity. Many from the audience linger in the foyer afterwards, marvelling softly, before moving off into the dark.