Shows

If you love experiencing the pure adrenaline shot a good horror can inject, I highly recommend 2:22 A Ghost Story. Set in a rapidly gentrifying pocket of London, the play follows married couple Sam (Regan Taylor) and Jenny (a wholehearted Pamela Sidhu), who are raising a new baby in an old home that they’re renovating. Jenny believes in ghosts; Sam, a scientist, does not. At a dinner party with their friends Lauren (Serena Cotton) and Ben (Jack Sergent-Shadbolt), wine flows, heads butt, and tensions rise as the clock ticks ever closer to 2:22, when something unspeakable changes everything.  

Cotton’s performance as a psychologist intoxicated by both booze and love is a highlight, and I particularly enjoy the interplay between Sergent-Shadbolt and Taylor, who deliver a contemptuous relationship with quick wit, twinkling eyes, and comic levity – much needed in a script that sets up some heavy themes. While Danny Robins’ writing is eloquent and clever, his dialogue feels more scripted than natural in parts (particularly in the way Jenny speaks), stunting the moments of emotional depth the cast are clearly capable of reaching in their exploration of those themes.

On the horror front, 2:22 A Ghost Story more than delivers. Chris Reddington’s prop design and hyper-detailed set (that staircase is spectacular) work in tandem with costume designer Shiloh Dobie’s special effects to create a couple of show-stopping moments. I can’t get into specifics here for fear of spoilers, but anyone who’s seen the show will know the hot second I’m talking about. And if you haven’t yet – cards on the table, why not? Special mention also to the rain trickling down the glass backdoor, emphasised by Marcus McShane’s striking lighting design and Dan Elliott’s thunderous sound design.

Director Peter Feeney puts all the moving parts of the intricate puzzle together, ensuring each spooky moment is perfectly designed and timed for maximum effect. The result is the audience reaction straight out of every horror creative’s best nightmare: the shriek, followed by the nervous, jittery giggle. I leave feeling exhilarated.  

Instant Theatre is a fully improvised, character-driven performance of real people in real situations. With no scripts, no games, and nothing prepared, three performers (Sarah Ashill, Thomas Bauer, and Tony Yuile) spontaneously create new lives and their stories each night.

With just a prompt from the audience for two emotions – anger and ecstasy – to guide the direction of the narrative, these talented actors created the simple but beautiful story of a couple experiencing the 13-year itch and trying to rekindle the flames of romance on a dream vacation at a tropical resort. The wife, Angie, is keen for adventure and excitement while husband Tom just wants to do what they usually do on holiday – sit by the pool and drink cocktails. Jealousy raises its ugly head when Angie goes for surfing lessons with a hunky instructor, but these classes save the day when Tom finally decides to venture outside his comfort zone and steps into the waves alongside his wife. Angie’s best friend Janice also enters the picture secretly occupying the room next door, while Tom makes friends with the mysterious Charlie over drinks and chess.

Unlike other improv troupes, these actors don’t employ random props or silly hats to tell their tale. Their stories come from the heart with just four stools to provide some physical variations and well-timed blackouts from coach Ben Zolno on the lighting desk to shift the scene. This spareness of staging provides for authenticity, and audible ‘aahs’ from the audience accompanied the most heartfelt moments.

Like all good character-driven stories, I was left wanting more. Why did Angie feel the need to bring her bestie on a supposedly romantic getaway? Who is Charlie exactly and why does he come to this resort every year? Will the brief encounter between these two lead to anything? Of course, with limited time and a spontaneous story, these questions can never be answered, but it’s a testament to the rich layering these improvisers can achieve that I even considered such questions.

With the current government’s ‘tough on crime’ stance, Iron is a timely work for Stagecraft Theatre to have chosen. Rona Munro’s sharply drawn drama about a mother and daughter reconnecting after 15 years apart is given a heavy weight of meaning by being set in a women’s prison, where inmates and guards alike are institutionalised by the straitjacket of punishment.

Fay (Karen Anslow) was locked up for killing her husband. This left her daughter Josie (Ivana Palezevic), a child at the time, deeply traumatised and destined to become a successful but lonely adult. Supervising their visits are two guards (James Bayliss and Helen Mackenzie Hughes) whose personal lives and attitudes have been shaped by the work they do far more than they should be.

The cast of this production are excellent. Anslow draws out Fay’s complexities and passions with skill and energy. Palezevic is awkward and devastatingly emotional as her troubled daughter who just wants to be able to remember. Their relationship is believable as it deepens and evolves with each visit.

Bayliss imbues his guard George with humour and paternalism over his female charges while he scoffs from Josie’s well-meaning fruit baskets. Mackenzie Hughes’ guard Sheila is uncomfortably hardened by the overstepping, love-hate relationship she has with Fay.

The traverse set (Neil Wallace) brings the audience close to the stage and involved in the story as the actors occasionally break the fourth wall to include them. The transformation that moves the action to the prison garden is a lovely moment of creativity. The stark lighting (Jamie Byas) and monochrome wardrobe (Rosie Glover) add to the grimness of the prison setting. I would like to have seen the actors given more dynamic movement to match the quality of their performances, as the static blocking has two characters sitting and talking across a table for long periods of time.

With its topical themes, well-crafted relationships, and engaging performances, Iron will leave you with much to mull over.

In December 2023, the activist group Te Waka Hourua caused a nationwide furore when they abseiled into Te Papa and painted over the three articles of the English Treaty of Waitangi Exhibition to read: “No. Her Majesty the Queen of England the alien. ration the Queen’s veges.” This ‘redaction action’ provoked strong opinions across Aotearoa with some singing their praises and others calling for retribution. While all the artists were charged, only one – Te Wehi Ratana – got jail time. He spent 48 hours in Rimutaka Prison, about which most of this out-there and poignantly funny play is concerned. In the most unlikely of circumstances, Ratana’s hard-core cellmate Brian and 180 nicotine lozenges inspired a movement for change.

Playing Ratana, Brian, and an unnamed actor tasked with bringing this (mostly) true story to life is Ngahiriwa Rauhina. Full of energy, talent, and passion for this overtly self-aware tale, he commands the audience’s attention. Deftly switching between characters, he bounces around the cleverly designed stage (Nicole Marsh) in his orange prison jumpsuit and cool Michael Jackson Toitū Te Tiriti T-shirt (costume design also Nicole Marsh) delivering quick-fire dialogue and frequent direct address without pause.

Supporting Rauhina is the chameleonic voice of Roy Iro as the intimidating but ultimately soft-hearted prisoner Junior, plus a host of other characters. Excellently creative and well-timed projection (designer Jane Hakaraia, operator Marshall Rankin) and an entertaining soundtrack (Connor Magatogia) also provide context and visual comedy for Rauhina to perform with. Ironic props (Nicole Marsh again) of road cones, a tino rangatiratanga flag, and a guitar add to the assumption-defying nature of this production.

ration the Queen’s veges is as audacious a piece of Māori theatre as the original act of frustrated protest that inspired it. As Rauhina declares: “Do the mahi, get the treats” – make the effort to see this show and you’ll be justly rewarded with a unique piece of theatricality about a singularly Aotearoa display of defiance.

This show acts as a cringeworthy (see what I did there) and hilarious history lesson about one of the most iconic decades of music for mankind. Get Down on It with Cringeworthy: The 90s, featuring iconic choreography (Andrea Sanders and Devon Neiman) and songs like …Baby One More Time, How Bizarre. We Like to Party, and Silly Love Songs.

The show begins with four authentically 90s performers – Sanders, Neiman, Kali Kopae, and Jared Pallesen. Each one of them rocks their body through each number, and the singing would make Alanis Morissette proud. The group is incredibly NSYNC with each other. Just when you think it can’t get any better, Mackenzie Htay – a Gen Z with his heart in the 20th century – joins in Act Two for even more boyband-crazy moments.

The quips are side-splitting, and the whole production feels reminiscent of Six: The Musical, only this time about all things 90s. I cannot commend the choreography enough – each performer dances with absolute vigour from start to finish, and it’s no wonder the audience is cheering throughout. The costuming (in collaboration with Creative Show Off Costume Hire and the cast) is fly, while the set (Mitch Sigley) provides some clever and interesting nods to the era.

Despite being born close to the 90s, I feel like I am the youngest person in the audience. But that does not Sway me – I still feel completely immersed in this decade and am MMMBop-ping the entire time. Cringeworthy: The 90s is fun, uplifting, and educational. I hope the producers (Beatgirl Productions) continue the series with an instalment all about the noughties.

Words can’t do it justice, so breakdance your way down to Circa Theatre: “you gotta know to understand” just how incredible this show is.

PS: I don’t apologise for how many puns I’ve just written, because This Is How We Do It with a review of this kind.

Are you a believer or a sceptic? The kind of person who just wants to be entertained by the mere mention of magic or someone who needs to know the truth behind the smoke and mirrors? Illusionist Anthony Street – with what seems like nothing more than a flick of the wrist or a snap of his nimble fingers – leaves both camps spellbound.

From behind puffs of smoke and billowing satin flags, the Australian dream maker conjures up grand illusions for his audience of willing Wellington fans, fabricating worlds of wonder where anything is possible. He makes dancers Imogen Doody and Rachael Peters vanish seemingly into thin air – weren’t they just inside that sword-stabbed box not a moment before? Audience members are brought to the stage only to find their chosen cards appearing in the most unexpected places. A motorcycle somehow materialises at the flash of a perfectly timed lighting change (Xavier Dannock). Each one of us in the crowd, after performing a card trick according to the instructions, finds the three of diamonds tucked snuggly beneath our leg, just as Street predicted.

But it’s not just the illusions of grand scale that make Street’s audiences “ooh” and “aah” on cue. His skill and showmanship shine brightest in the smallest tricks, in the intimate moments of heartfelt humour, sentimental storytelling, and charming connection. Beginning the show by performing the first magic trick he ever saw, Street walks audiences down memory lane, tracking the standout moments that led him right here to The Opera House stage.

Watching eight-year-old Willow’s eyes light up as she helps Street levitate a table on stage or little Basil’s eyes widen in disbelief as the illusionist pulls coins from behind his ears and elbows are the truest and purest moments of magic. With stage manager Jeremy Evans in tow with a camera linked up to a projector screen above the stage, Street takes three rings from the audience and, before our eyes, links them together – I cannot for the life of me figure out how he did it. And truthfully, I don’t really want to know. Call me a believer, but I prefer to live in a world imbued with magic.

A story as dark and cold as a Wellington winter night, The Fox gently unravels a modestly content household in the pursuit of happiness. Inspired by D. H. Lawrence’s novella of the same name, Keith Scott’s The Fox follows Jill Banford (Yasmine Alani) and Nellie March (Lottie Butcher), who live a humble life on a farm. Things go awry when Henry Grenfel (Sven Hoerler) returns from fighting in World War I to the homestead his grandfather had once owned, now the abode of Jill and Nellie.

The Fox is drenched in symbolism, which is often overlooked in plays, but the actors do well to emphasise phrases so that the audience can easily understand the references. Whether it is the titular fox or a deer, everything in the script has a deeper meaning. It takes paying a penny for your thoughts to a whole new level. We are prompted to view everyday life through a different lens, eager to dissect the meaning in everything. The Fox serves as a warning about the place we put men in our lives and homes and the damage they can cause.

The cast keep the audience engaged throughout – no mean feat for just three actors – and portray their characters with nuance, showing us the complexity and frailty of their relationships. I particularly enjoy the queer coding between Jill and Nellie.

The set (Ewen Coleman) provides the perfect backdrop and really feels like the quaint home Nellie and Jill have spent years perfecting. It is also refreshing to see how well utilised the set is, as each part serves a purpose.

This Wellington Repertory Theatre production will get you pondering on many levels as it asks a question about the cost of happiness and whether it is achievable. I know I will still be thinking of it in the days ahead. Come in from the cold and see for yourself the damage a fox can do.

By now, anyone wandering Wellington’s wonderful waterfront would have spotted two large shipping containers set up at Odlins Plaza. In giant block letters, one reads FLIGHT, the other SÉANCE. But what worlds wait inside?

DARKFIELD is an immersive audio experience that takes place in total darkness, but not before audiences see the inside of the containers. This gives us a setting for the experience to unfold and grounds us in reality before the rug is pulled out from underneath us (figuratively, but it sure feels literal) and our imaginations take flight.

Which brings me to FLIGHT. With the Australian and New Zealand set built by Show Works, stepping inside this container elicits a collective audible gasp. It looks practically identical to the right side of an airplane cabin, complete with round windows through which a faint glow emits. Familiar sounds you’d hear on any flight beep and crackle through the provided headsets. Hilariously, and without being asked to do so, many of us fasten our seatbelts. On small overhead screens, flight attendant Eugénie Pastor relays safety instructions and our captain, Nigel Barrett, dials in. Cue lights out.

It's pitch black as the sound of our plane taking off blares in our ears. I nearly get vertigo and, as I thrust back in my seat unwittingly, I curse inwardly for having forgotten my sucky lollies. Then I remember… this isn’t real! Talk about suspension of disbelief.

Fictional babies start to cry from multiple seats as their ears pop from the altitude and I find myself counting my blessings I’m not seated next to one of them before remembering, again, that I’m on the ground in Wellington. A hilarious highlight of the 360-degree audio performance comes when our flight attendant tells the babies to stop crying, please, and dead silence ensues.

The story that unfolds from here is a touch on the nose radome, particularly with the reference to a passenger named Mr Schrödinger. As someone who genuinely felt like they were on an airplane in the first five minutes, the script’s diversion into fantastical realms muddied my experience. I’d be curious to see a storyline that leans more on the merits of such a brilliant and unique concept – perhaps one that takes audiences on a regular flight filled with interesting character studies or relationship (aero)dynamics. Nevertheless, I’d recommend DARKFIELD: FLIGHT for the highly detailed set and the singularity of the experience: apart from next door at SÉANCE, you’ll never see (or hear) anything like it!

SÉANCE sees audiences enter a room single file, peeling left and right to sit on either side of a large rectangular table that runs the length of the shipping container. Small golden bells dangle on red strings, but other than that, the set (built for Australia and New Zealand by Form Imagination) is stark, cold. We’re instructed to place both hands on the table and to not, under any circumstances, take them off for the duration of the experience, lest we break the connection and unleash a spirit. Nervous energy crackles down the table like electricity. When the lights go out, Tom Lyall performs a séance through our headphones, seemingly stomping up and down the table and whispering sweet spooky nothings in our ears. I can’t spoil the story here, but there’s a certain melting, squelching sound that still makes me shudder!    

With artistic direction from David Rosenberg and Glen Neath, executive direction from Andrea Salazar, and creative direction from senior creative producer Victoria Eyton, DARKFIELD is produced by Amy Johnson and Nathan Alexander of Realscape Productions. I would’ve loved to have seen more character development throughout both stories, but wholly enjoyed my time in the alternative worlds, the heart-palpitating dark fields conjured up by this creative team. Enter at your own peril!

The Ballad of Briar Grant tells the story of Hayley (played by Phoebe Caldeiro) and how she finds herself again after confessing her true feelings and being rejected by Briar Grant, her best friend. After her hopes are crushed, aimless and despairing, she ends up travelling to an apple orchard in the south of France. Here she is confronted by fate and unable to escape her emotions, as the woman she is working with is also called Briar Grant (played by Anna Barker).

Barker and Caldeiro have excellent chemistry, their sharp and considered delivery getting the humour of the script across as the ridiculous coincidence of their situation is ignited by their opposing personalities. Hayley is dejected and lost, struggling to draw meaning from the beautiful landscape she has found herself in. Meanwhile, Briar is manic, brash, and desperate for connection to the point of unabashed obnoxiousness. The characters are relatable, and while their situation may not be familiar, it is easy to empathise with them and read oneself into the story. Hayley’s feelings of despondence and frustration are compellingly painted by Caldeiro, matched by Barker’s neurotic pushiness as Briar Grant.

The set design by Heather Wright is effective, consisting of modular crates full of apples and some drapes that evoke the rows of the apple orchard. Sound design by Ben Kelly and lighting by Jacob Banks also satisfyingly set the scene, with sounds of birdsong and an orange glow of light to depict the warm, sunny day in France. Lighting and sound are also used to punctuate key moments in the play, including the climax of the story where Hayley’s emotions finally build up to express her frustrations about her original Briar in song. 

At times, there are pregnant, ponderous moments in the play where the action is drawn out and we are able to reflect on what the characters are going through. Sometimes the motivation in these moments is a little unclear, but overall, the script is understandable and lifelike. Thus, it is incredibly cathartic to see the characters grow and change, and reflect on how we also may have become different from our past selves.

Bella Baird is a brilliant but brittle Ivy League creative writing professor. Christopher Dunn is her talented yet angry and somewhat mysterious student. Surrounded by real life and literary fiction, an unusual friendship grows between their two lonely souls. Then one winter’s day, Bella asks an unthinkable favour of Christopher and their figurative and literal bonds turn full circle.

With much of the text delivered in direct address to the audience, Dulcie Smart has a huge job to do in playing Bella and does so with the self-assurance of an accomplished international stage and screen actor. As Christopher, Kieran Charnock carefully carries the awkwardness and sometimes disingenuous nature of a young novelist struggling to find his identity and voice. 

Stella Reid’s tight and flowing direction makes the most of Meg Rollandi’s creative set design that allows multiple rooms, a bar, and a park to co-exist without need for walls. Natasha James’ moodily effective lighting design that employs three onstage lamps, plus top and side light through haze, emphasises the darkly multi-layered narrative. Thomas Arbor’s shapeshifting music and sound effects provide a pulsing sonic backdrop, most appreciably during the scenes where both actors are on stage. 

I appreciate the expressive and often lyrical writing, the exploration of the loneliness that sometimes accompanies high intelligence and literary sensibility, and the encircled creativity of the story. I would like to have seen Bella and Christopher interact more often and have more actual dialogue and less reported speech than Adam Rapp’s script gave them as their refreshingly non-sexual relationship unfolded. This I think would have allowed me to emotionally invest in the characters and their fates, rather than marvelling at their intellectual capabilities. Ultimately, The Sound Inside tugged more at my head than my heart.

With an award-nominated script, high production values, slick direction, and highly rated actors, The Sound Inside is a classy piece of theatre that will leave you with much to chew on and dissect.

Mister Six and I had the privilege of being in the presence of a famous duo at Heidi and Sean Show. Heidi Jean Lougher and Sean Kaata Dwen have trained and performed all over the world, including Vietnam, Scotland, and Iceland, and they did not disappoint. They may have even encouraged my son to attend circus school one day!

Although the weather is wet, the Tararaua Tramping Club Clubrooms are warm and cosy. We are warmly welcomed by Fergus Aitken and show producer Amalia Calder at the door and make our way to the lolly table, which has become a part of our tradition when attending KidzStuff shows. Then we go to scout out some choice seats. The venue is already pretty full, and I am surrounded by lots of excited faces. What I love about the theatre is the fact that there aren’t allocated seats, and the kids are welcome to sit on the rug right in front of the stage. Talk about front-row action!

Heidi and Sean’s simple but effective staging, costumes, and props make us intrigued about what tricks they might have up their sleeves. The lights and music by the wonderful Deb McGuire set the vibe for each act.

With the number of oohs and aahs, gasps and claps that we heard (and sounded ourselves), it’s safe to say you and your kids will be in for a treat at Heidi and Sean Show. Humorous jokes are worked into the act, aimed at both young and old. It gets even more fun with a bit of audience participation, and the finale will leave you wanting more.

After every show I go to with Mister Six, I always ask him what his favourite part was. Unfortunately, I can’t share his specific answer this time because I don’t want to spoil it for you, but it does turn out that he loved… drumroll please… all of it! He loves magic, tricks, stunts, and all things awe-inspiring. So, pop down to Heidi and Sean Show for a show like no other these school holidays!

Presenting A Nightime Travesty in its international debut, one of Australia’s few First Nations independent theatre collectives explodes onto the Wellington stage as part of the Kia Mau Festival. Their “unique brand of Blak Brechtian, post-traumatic adventure theatre” is a brutal, passionate, and X-rated satire against toxic patriarchy, colonialism, environmental destruction, white supremacy, and the abuse of God to demonise and subjugate Indigenous peoples. Even the inequities and privations of the theatre world come under its savage spotlight.

Co-creators and committed performers Kamarra Bell-Wykes and Carly Sheppard play the lion’s share of the roles as the Last Fleet of privileged humans takes to the sky to escape a poisoned Earth burning below them. They’re bound for an uncertain fate, perhaps the afterlife they’ve dreamed of in church. The “last Aboriginal”, the naively hopeful and warrior-hearted Angel, is one of two flight attendants and a failed pilot, denied the chance to fulfil her potential simply by her race and sex. The actual pilot, Captain God’s Gift, is an over-sexed, hugely endowed man-beast who ravages any available female just because he can. Lurking on the fringes and occasionally joining the story is a bong-smoking, masturbating Death (Zach Blampied).

Helping deliver the often hilarious, occasionally heart-rending original songs are smallsound and Matthew Pana on guitar and drums. smallsound is also responsible for the easily portable set design that involves a desk, skulls, stuffed toys, a couple of small bins, a large gong, and various other bits and pieces that Death plays with and that become props used throughout the show, alongside the odd amputated limb and severed head. Gina Gascoigne’s pacy lighting design augments the garish, crazy action.

A Nightime Travesty thoroughly eviscerates its themes in 100 minutes of raw, eye-popping theatre. Sit in the front row and you’ll be offered bottles of urine and cat food to keep you going on this journey to Hell. Strap in for a wild ride!