Shows

Russian-born, US-raised Mikhail Tank is a self-described “visionary multimedia artist, performer, author, and creative alchemist” who has created Transmute Darkness into Light specifically for this year’s New Zealand Fringe Festival audience. It follows an inspirational visit he made to Auckland last year to film a video for the title track to his latest performance art and music album, The Royal Dragon and the Rhythm Within.

Filmed in what appears to be his living room in California with a static camera, Transmute Darkness into Light is delivered direct to the lens. It’s part performance poetry, part mindfulness class with a spontaneous exhortation to explore the protective darkness inside us and use it to inform our creativity, as he has been doing since the age of 13.

Tank begins by expounding on his recent New Zealand visit, his love for our country and people, deep connection with Māori culture, and the significance of a pounamu that he was gifted by a carver on Waiheke.

This segues into an animated performance of a dozen or so “soul-written works” about the dangers of artifice and negativity, which cause us psychosomatic pain and trauma. “Reverse these curses”, he says, by reaching for God and Nature as he blows kisses to the sky or to us through his camera.

Part three is an extension of the themes in his poetry as Tank expands his thoughts on “magic, light, and darkness” by turning the poison of negativity into something positive. Connecting with our souls is, he claims, the most important relationship we have in life. There is an air of the practical in his words as he doesn’t eschew the physical world of possessions, but instead says they can offer us earthly experiences and ways to see life through powerful gifts to cherish, such as pounamu. They contribute to the “soul warehouse”, which also contains resuscitated love and emotions expressed in the moment. These are at the core of this unique creative work.

With book by Ania Upstill and music and lyrics by William Duignan and Andy Manning, Antonio! is an exuberant punk musical that imagines the exploits of a forgotten muse of Shakespeare, a proudly queer merchant-turned-pirate who explores the world searching for love, and, failing that, booty. The name Antonio features in five of Shakespeare’s plays, and the show draws on these to construct Antonio!. Shakespeare enthusiasts will recognise passages from Much Ado About Nothing, Twelfth Night, and The Merchant of Venice. However, the production is firmly grounded in the present; the aesthetics draw on punk and most of the book uses contemporary language.

Fans of Butch Mermaid Productions have been eagerly anticipating Antonio! ever since its sell-out season at Edinburgh Fringe 2023. Duignan reprises his role as the earnest and vulnerable Antonio, with a supporting cast and band of Upstill, Henry Ashby, Emma Katene, and Jthan Morgan.

Presenting the intricate narrative of Antonio! with five musicians, actors, and vocalists is no mean feat. Each performer has incredible versatility of characterisation, committing to even the smallest bit parts. We meet a series of Antionio’s past lovers, each more unsuitable than the last. Ashby’s smouldering Bassanio seduces us all against our better judgement, and Katene’s Don Pedro is ludicrously sick with self-love. The sublime Jthan Morgan is heartbreaking as Sebastian, and outrageously funny in ensemble work.

Much of the narrative seeks to erase Shakespeare and to instead centre Antonio’s voice. But The Bard breaks through eventually, with all the supporting cast donning eerie yet hilarious Shakespeare masks with glowing green eyes, and Upstill’s cold, smooth voice speaking for the worst ex of them all. Upstill’s Shakespeare is a scurvy companion; closeted, manipulative, and cruel.

But Antonio! is ultimately a show that celebrates authenticity and queer joy. Our Antonio liberates himself and finds happiness, and the clear message in the final song is that this kind of freedom is available to all of us.  

Putting your life story on stage is an act of bravery, especially for theatrical performers who are often riddled with self-doubt. So, for Glenn Horsfall to present his journey of personal growth is a daring feat of vulnerability in the intimate, overheated space of Thistle Hall.

Unlike many in the opening-night audience, I don’t know Horsfall personally. Having witnessed his recent performances and lush baritone voice in Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812, Into the Woods, and End of the Rainbow, I was keen to meet the man behind the voice.

Horsfall takes his audience with him on a sometimes-heartbreaking voyage of discovery from early years schooling in Christchurch where he thrived as “the Patty Simcox of intermediate”, excelling as the only boy playing netball. For this, he featured on the front page of the local paper and was interviewed for Paul Holmes on TVNZ. Sadly, that clip resurfaced during his tough years at Christchurch Boys’ High School and led to bullying and self-destructive behaviour that persisted into adulthood.

Behind Horsfall is a moving collage of personal photos (design by Scott Maxim) that illustrate and highlight moments in his life and add depth to the storytelling. Anecdotes from his work as a cruise ship entertainer, then playing a wheelchair-bound dog in a shopping-mall kids’ show, and learning tricky choreography at ‘cat school’ pepper his tales with endearing and self-deprecating humour.

Also interspersed with the narrative are 10 well-chosen songs from a variety of musicals that echo the emotions at key points in Horsfall’s story, excellently arranged and accompanied by Hayden Taylor. Horsfall’s vocal performances are stunning and he really hits his stride with the fourth number, Waving Through a Window from Dear Evan Hansen, which particularly suits his singing style.

This might not have been the plan but it’s nevertheless a privilege to share in the life of a singular talent.

With Noël Coward’s works entering the public domain this year, Stagecraft’s production of Private Lives is the first in Wellington to bring new life to the playwright’s classic comedic style. Despite originally being performed in 1930, the play’s subversive portrayal of gender roles is ripe and juicy for a modern audience. Though he was closeted during his lifetime, Coward’s queerness adds a biting wit to his work.

After a messy divorce, two ex-lovers (played by Dan Harward Jones and Lydia Verschaffelt) have married new spouses (Laura Gardner and Tom Kereama) and are happily honeymooning when they discover that their hotel rooms are right next to each other. Passions reignite and they flee from their new marriages together – only to be reminded of the reasons why they got divorced.

Coward’s characteristically fast-paced, witty dialogue is realised confidently by every member of the cast, which is rounded out by Margot Allais as Louise. Dialogue is clear even with the speed of the banter, the cast’s accents are consistent, and there is skillful variety in the pacing of the lines. The effect is a delightful show that keeps the audience laughing. It is clear that the actors understand the humour in their lines, and their comedic timing and delivery make the most of the hilarious script.

Set design by Tanya Piejus is also fantastic, beginning with the cast pulled forward in front of a curtain for a believable hotel balcony. The set then opens up to a stylish box set for a Parisian apartment, complete with charming painted streets visible through the back windows. Both spaces are used well by the cast, whose movement feels natural and motivated. Costume design (Meredith Dooley) and hair styles and make up (workshopped by Aimée Sullivan) all add great believability and personality to the characters and the era of the play.

Janet Noble’s direction has made an exceptional interpretation of the script as a time capsule of a classic comedy filtered through a modern lens. Stagecraft’s Private Lives is a very enjoyable production with plenty of risqué humour that still has plenty to say about modern gender roles.

In a scarily possible near future, a new government has favoured tax cuts for the middle classes over investing in the public health system, resulting in the Last Year of Life Bill. This sees people with terminal illnesses denied all but palliative care once they’ve been ‘classified’ as too far gone to be worth treating, so freeing up beds and medication for younger, more worthy patients.

One of the classifieds is Irina (Perry Piercy), a Ukranian refugee who escaped before the ongoing war. Her two children, Yulia (Mel Dodge) and Daniel (Tāmata Porter), have very different attitudes to their mother’s plight. Yulia is a nurse who daily sees the effect of an ageing population on a struggling health system and believes the new law is saving lives, while Daniel procures and administers black-market cancer drugs to try to buy his mum more time. Also in the mix is Adam (Jack Buchanan), one of Irina’s former piano students whose own health issue has arrested his career as a maestro.

Starting with an attempted suicide and seemingly about a heavily doom-laden subject, Hope is surprisingly uplifting. That’s largely because it’s funny and this vein of humour as each character wrestles with the ethics of the appalling situation they find themselves in is what stops Jenny Pattrick’s finely balanced script being a buzzkill.

The cast is excellent, each clearly articulating their character and interacting with believable emotions and chemistry. They are supported by a lusciously coloured set (Ian Harman) that leans strongly into the mosaic motif that threads through the dialogue and anchors the hope within it. Marcus McShane’s lighting adds to the visual feast, with subtle practicals and shades that clearly pinpoint the time of day. The accompanying piano-based soundtrack (composer Briar Prastiti, sound engineer and designer Chris Ward) weaves beautifully around the action.

A call to action in a disintegrating world, Hope celebrates the deeper things that bring us together and make us live, love, and laugh.

Sailing from the Welsh Dragon Bar to two/fifty-seven with a fresh new crew of scallywag actors is the updated The Man Whose Mother Was A Pirate – The Musical. Inspired by Margaret Mahy’s beloved children’s book and made with the consent and approval of her estate, this production features new songs with music and lyrics by Nino Raphael and even more audience engagement, including dancing in the playing area.

Each actor plays within the theatre-in-the-round so well, both vocally (musical direction by Hayden Taylor) and physically. Finlay Morris as Sam the Man stuns with his vocal prowess and smooth movement. Jo Hodgson (The Pirate Mother) fully embodies what it means to be both a mother and a pirate, delivering beautiful vocals. Aimée Sullivan keeps the audience in stitches with her many roles as The Rugged Pirate, while Stuart Coats’ expanded portrayal of Mr Fat delights with its depth and humour. Mike McKeon as the Rosy Pirate Captain is a superb narrator and commands the audience with his stage presence. Isobel Lee shines as Jenny, a new addition to the crew of characters, stealing every scene she is in. Every performer adds their own unique energy, and I almost choked with laughter at several moments.

The new songs add so much to the show’s charm, combining sea shanty vibes with Raphael’s distinctive style. The technical elements, like the simple yet effective lighting (Scott Maxim), enhance the setting without distracting from the action. The addition of retractable cutlasses and other props (Becka Tiongson) elevates the theatrical experience.

This version of The Man Whose Mother Was A Pirate – The Musical retains the magic of its Welsh Dragon Bar original, but blows it out of the water with its energy, humour, and creativity. It feels sharper, bigger, better, and is even more of a standout. It’s a fantastic story for all generations about setting sail from the ordinary to explore uncharted waters. I have no doubt that with the creative team behind it, future productions will raise the (rum) bar even higher. For now, I would fight off crews of pirates to watch it again.

A new, locally written adaptation of Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations, this musical is a massive feat and obviously a labour of love. It features original music composed by Katie Morton, an 11-person strong orchestra (musical direction by Saar Cohen-Ronen), and over 20 committed performers.

Gryphon Theatre has been rotated so that the audience sits lengthways down the auditorium, allowing for a wide stage space. The band is visible behind the action on one side, while the other has been built up for a raised acting area. This orientation creates some challenges, as the acting space becomes thin, limiting the depth for the blocking of action and making it difficult to hear the dialogue over the lively large band when the performers are in one corner of the stage.

Dickens’ Great Expectations has a complex, drawn-out plot, which poses another challenge in adapting it to the stage. The show is close to three hours long, with much of the dialogue and lyrics leaning more into exposition than character development. Many technical elements are employed to tell the story, including sound effects (sound design by director Tanya Piejus), projections (AV design by Emma Maguire), smoke, and even a puppet. As the lighting (design by Jamie Byas and Brian Byas) uses colour creatively to set location and mood, the projections – which are tricky to see – feel superfluous to me. Wardrobe design by Wendy Howard assisted by Hayley Knight excellently captures the characters and time period. I would love to see more focus on the emotion in the acting and blocking over the use of technology, which I feel would help to lift the story (and music) off the page.

While an adaptation of this scale faces many challenges, when the full ensemble sings in harmony there is a fantastic sound and vibrancy. I hope to see future productions of Pip and commend Wellington Repertory Theatre for going all out on this ambitious project, dedicated to the memory of John Golder and his wife Alison.

The MILK canon is rightly capitalised because it is very loud (like a canon, wow) and chaotic. “It’s like Wipeout but inside!”, creator Sean Burnett Dugdale-Martin yells in a press release, proving my point. MILK is long-form improv meets water balloons, whereby a group of players – in this case Salomé Grace Neely, Anna Barker, Sarah Penny, Adriana Dana Vasinca, and Ezra Prattley – create a story out of suggestions from the audience, who pelt them with projectiles whenever they want something onstage to change.

This could be as simple as a performer going from happy to sad, stoked about a hegg (hairy egg, of course) to grossed out by it, or it could be as dire and consequential as a death in the MILK family. This happens when a seemingly ordinary, secretly legendairy water balloon explodes, revealing its creamy contents and changing the course of the show forever.

In The MILKYVERSE, which MC Dugdale-Martin introduces in a fittingly hilarious and hectic manner (in fact, they even forget to tell us what to do with the water balloons) (all good, it’s pretty self-explanatory), our protagonist (Dana Vasinca) has moved out of Mum/Grandma’s (Grace Neely) home into a flat with an exceedingly hairy roommate (Prattley) whose mum (Barker) has a hernia, according to a doctor moonlighting as Chappell Roan (Penny). Tasked with clearing the hair out of the flat lest the Milkyverse combust, the protagonist travels to a different dimension where people (especially whoever Barker is playing at the time) can open doors with their minds! Only doors in their line of vision though! Still, impressive!

Special shoutout to design lead and technician Anne Larcom for a brilliant insertion of Enya’s Only Time in The MILKYVERSE, the third out of six milky seasons that I’ve seen. I love these fun and funny, silly and soggy shows and lean into each one harder than the last. In fact, as a fresher for 2022’s MILKOWEEN!, I threw no balloons! For my second encounter, Milly Monka’s MILK Factory (2023), I threw one! And for The MILKYVERSE, I threw 2(%)! Get it, like two-percent milk!

I will now officially sign off and leave the puns to the experts: Ruff as Gutz, who have churned out yet another udderly fantastic show. Whey to go! 

Celebrating 20 years of the Circa pantomime, this year’s offering was always going to be special. It’s fitting, then, that this edition of the panto has a Dr Who-inspired, time-travelling twist with Anita Minute (Jthan Morgan) dressed in a sparkly third-Doctor-themed tailcoat and necktie (costume design by Sheila Horton) and a Portal-Oo in place of the TARDIS. It’s great to see Jackson Burling back in a full role, rather than playing swing, as Justin Time, Anita’s companion. There’s even a nerdalicious nod to Jurassic Park in Natasha McAllister’s velociraptor minion and the occasional callback to previous pantos, including Lyndee-Jane Rutherford’s Goosey with her nasal “Hoooooonk!” for those of us old enough to remember Mother Goose 11 years ago.

Writers Gavin Rutherford and Simon Leary have created another wonderfully entertaining, homegrown adaptation of a classic fairytale with all the Wellington-themed and political jokes we’ve come to expect. The digs at David Seymour, Winston Peters, and Shane Jones elicited laughs from the largely adult opening-night audience and Bronwyn Turei tearing in half a sheet of paper and performing a haka with Morgan received the biggest roar of applause for acknowledging current political events.

The cast of experienced performers work beautifully and energetically together and lean into the gender-fluid and inclusive nature of the panto. No one does a villain like Bronwyn Turei as evil fairy Dusk, and Simon Leary and Kathleen Burns are charming as Dawn and Day, fairy dads to the delightful Aurora Australis (Rachel McSweeney) and her stunning singing voice.

As ever, Michael Nicholas Williams comes up trumps with his musical arrangements of pop hits by stars ranging from The Beach Boys to Cher and Ed Sheeran and even sneaks in a homage to the Dr Who theme.

Ian Harman’s set design, including a stunning painted cobblestone floor, and Marcus McShane’s lighting create a lush and vibrant stage for yet another fabulous, funny, and flirty pantomime. Oh, no they didn’t! Oh, yes they did!

Entering through a tempest to get to Circa Theatre, I was unaware of the storm of laughter that The Tempestuous would bring. Inspired by the Bard himself, William Shakespeare, this musical solo show sees Princess Rosa navigating a cyclone of menopausal witches, full-of-themselves courtiers, and much ado about baking tarts.

Penny Ashton multi-roles this captivating story like no other. She commands the audience with great vigour and humour, making us burst into fits of laughter frequently. Each character that Ashton embodies is incredibly distinct – no mean feat considering she plays at least 10 roles as one incredibly talented actor with impressive vocals to boot (musical direction and compositions by Robbie Ellis). Let’s not forget that unparalleled one-person swordfight.

The Tempestuous is a satire, often critiquing the role of men, which I must say is rather deserved. Not just a laugh fest, the show also draws from current affairs and is very politically relevant.

Ashton’s multi-rolling extends not only onstage but also behind the scenes, as she is also the show’s writer, sound designer, producer, publicist, and more. The Tempestuous is well written using ‘ye olde English’ and features many a rhyming couplet. The stage is filled with many surprises, often causing the audience to chuckle when props are revealed (our prop artist is none other than… you guessed it, Ashton).

Ashton wears a stunning corset dress (costume design by Elizabeth Whiting and corset design by Katie McGettigan) that is so detailed, it almost stops the show in its elegant tracks.

Ashton’s gift for audience interaction is a highlight – especially the improvised moments, such as addressing a latecomer and the one who left their glasses. My only criticism is that I wish there had been more audience interaction overall.

The Tempestuous made me cackle like the coven of witches within it. If you want to laugh until your corset splits, then gallivant to Circa Theatre at thy earliest convenience – or be damned!

Welcome to 1990s Illyria! It’s a party resort on a Greek island in the sun, glowing in whitewash and shocking-pink bougainvillea (set designer Amy Whiterod). In his vibrant nightclub, Orsino (Ren Mahuika) bemoans his lovesickness for a grieving Olivia (Lydia Verschaffelt), while Viola (Ivana Palezevic) and her twin brother Sebastian (Blake Boston) separately wash up after a shipwreck. Elsewhere, an unholy alliance of Sir Toby Belch (Allan Burne), Sir Andrew Aguecheek (Sean Farrell), Maria (Catherine McMechan), and Fabia (Margot Allais) set a trap for uptight steward Malvolio (Mike McJorrow). It’s Shakespeare’s greatest comedy, it’s twins, it’s the 90s… you need naught else for the best night of entertainment in Wellington right now.

The vision of directors Joy Hellyer and Paul Kay is steeped throughout this delicious production. Emma Bell and Mike Slater’s lush and colourful lighting design enhances Whiterod’s Mediterranean set beautifully. The wardrobe (Katie Knight and Meredith Dooley, assisted by Amy Vines) is perfectly period with a transformed Malvolio’s bright-yellow Ali G outfit, complete with bling, a stunning and laugh-out-loud highlight.

Kay’s sound design is a continuous playlist of 90s bangers, cunningly woven into the narrative and even replacing the odd line of dialogue. If you feel so inclined, you can boogie with the cast during the interval and join in the final Macarena. Warning: you will find yourself on your feet at the end as it’s impossible not to be swept up in the infectious joy of this version of a Shakespeare classic.

The cast is superb all round, working slickly and harmoniously together to tell a somewhat ridiculous but always entertaining story. It’s hard to pick standouts from such a good lineup but Burne’s Sir Toby and McJorrow’s Malvolio are favourites, both embracing the comedy and tragedy in their characters. Charlie Potter as Feste must also be commended for her wonderful singing and unfettered demand for cash.

The Bard himself would be bopping like the Backstreet Boys in this stunningly sunny Stagecraft production.

I’m a big fan of 7 Days, New Zealand’s longest-running comedy game show on TV Three. Having just marked its 16^th season, the programme originally aired at the decidedly un-family-friendly time slot of 10pm before being brought forward to 9:30pm and then earlier still. In 7 Days Live, the comedians get to cut loose like the good ol’ days. No filters, no censors: just Kiwi comedy at its rudest and finest.

The format is simple. The dynamic, fast-paced first half sees host Jeremy Corbett, team captains Paul Ego and Dai Henwood, and comedians Hayley Sproull, Josh Thomson, Justine Smith, and Ben Hurley each perform a 10-minute solo stand-up set before sitting down for a live version of 7 Days in act two.

After Corbett gets the ball rolling by recounting the hypothetical arguments he has with his wife about how they’d spend the Lotto money they’ll never win (relatable), Ego comes on to tell us about a kindly nurse possibly born out of the procreation of a walnut and a prune. At this point, a random yells “That’s Kelly’s mum!” and Ego handles it like a champ, starting a running joke about the illicit substances in the heckler’s system that the rest of the comedians riff on throughout the night. Henwood earns one or two ovations but many more laughs with a heartfelt set that straddles everything from slow roasting a pizza to thinking he’s been mistaken for a six-foot-something rugby player.

Other highlights of act one include Thomson’s jarring encounter with the Eye of Sauron in a lift, Hurley’s jibe to an audience member that “no one cares about the rebrand” of Countdown, Smith’s assertion that she “too, was surprised” about being punched by airport security, and Sproull’s impression of a chuffed Mr. Bean with a set of knockers.

The sound mixing in the second half is not as great and I lose a lot of lines when the chatter overlaps, but overall, I have a wicked time living out my dreams of catching an episode of my favourite Kiwi panel show live. While the cast love to rip each other to shreds, their camaraderie here is obvious, the chemistry between them sizzling harder and hotter than a saussie straight off the Bunnings grill.