Shows

Starring its creator Isabella Murray as Bella, Love and Plastic Roses is a solo show about the pressure people can feel to make romantic and sexual connections with others.

Bella sits down for a date at a table set for two, with cheesy mood lighting and music (both co-designed by Revena Correll Trnka and Murray) setting the scene and creating a soft, pretty aesthetic. She faces the audience while her date is represented by a robotic voiceover and an empty chair with its back to us.

I experience some confusion while watching Love and Plastic Roses, at first believing Bella to be on one date. With the introduction of more Siris and Alexas, so to speak, I start to think we’re witnessing multiple dinners, with each date more mechanical than the last. After Bella mentions never having been out with anyone, I wonder whether we’re watching her rehearse these situations and they’re not real after all. Maybe the circumstances aren’t important and not knowing is the point, but while trying to piece the action together, I find myself missing some beautiful moments onstage.

Some decisions are clear and clever, with metaphors woven throughout that suggest Bella is just going through the motions, that everything is not coming up (plastic) roses. A gradual change of lighting state catches me by surprise and makes me chuckle more than once, while Bella’s soliloquies and asides feature some arresting lines that catch my heart in my chest.

Murray’s performance is heartfelt and captivating. While it’s possible she reaches peak panic mode as Bella a little too early, she puts in the kind of unreserved energy that I can’t look away from.

There are some great ideas brewing in this work, which has a strong backbone and an authentic story at its core. With a little more workshopping and development, Love and Plastic Roses has all the makings of a show you’ll never forget.

A rollercoaster ride from the very beginning, Dr Drama Makes a Show With You flips your expectations and theatrical convention on its head from the moment the lights dim, or in this case brighten, for suddenly you become the star of the show! Dr Drama (James Wenley) playfully breaks the fourth wall, deliberately deconstructing what it means to be a performer versus an audience member, and what role we think the audience, the performer, and performance itself should play.

Dr Drama calls the audience onto the stage to become performers. Conventional performance pieces about Wenley’s personal relationship with and love for theatre, along with his experience isolating alone during lockdown, are interspersed with theatre games, didactic segments, conversation, and of course your very own show. Tim Fraser’s lighting design spotlights traditional performance moments while the audience remains in the dark, but illuminates the whole stage when the audience are to perform. Alongside Wenley’s narrative, Fraser’s use of lighting ingeniously underscores theatrical practice while simultaneously questioning its norms and boundaries.

Wenley’s show is artfully self-aware, broaching relevant topics such as loneliness, a shared struggle in the midst of a pandemic. Wenley brings theatre back to its choral roots, changing the notion of what it means to attend a performance into something much more human, much more collective. Each moment links together with a common thread of hope. Theatre acts as the binding force by which we can not only overcome loneliness, but also connect with others in a world where we are becoming increasingly divided physically, socially, and emotionally.

Dr Drama Makes a Show With You is both clever and effective. Wenley successfully involves his audience and navigates around (at least my) discomfort. The juxtaposition between actor and audience performance is exciting and fresh, but also thoughtful and constructive, inspiring me to consider less traditionally Western modes of performance and its effect in my own small world as well as society at large.

Coming in at just under an hour, Wisdom of Waters felt like the Level 2 escapism I needed. It is the first full-length dance work by former Footnote dancer Georgia Beechy, and it bubbles with potential.

This languid contemporary work is presented by an all-female collective, Speaking Spines, who are new on the Wellington dance scene – hence the New Zealand Fringe Festival premiere. The performance is a trance-like exploration of movement and women’s experience, told through the limber bodies of five extraordinary wāhine.  

The piece boasts strong imagery and powerful messages of connection. Clad in silky red dresses and skirts, the dancers wind their way across the stage and between one another. There is an element of restraint to their movement, but it doesn’t feel overtly careful, it feels purposeful, it feels investigative.

A dreamy soundscape, created by Ludus, delicately threads the work together with a combination of ambience and electronica. The dancers seamlessly respond to the sound in their bodies and in their presence. One section sees the group come together in an Irish folky ritual of rhythmic body slaps and foot stomps. It conveys a beautiful moment of both unity and liberation.

The colour red acts as a significant motif through the costumes and ribbons, which are weaved throughout the performance on a wooden frame. Complementing the raw movement, it seems to connote the experience of a woman on her period, in childbirth, and at crossroads. In one cleverly constructed scene we see the hands of temptation reaching through the woven frame, extending apples to a resigned ‘Eve’.

The work is truly experimental and doesn’t try to hide the fact. Sometimes it is clear that there are moments of improvisation, but it doesn’t detract from the wider performance. It is exciting to see new and passionate dance artists putting themselves out there and testing their artistic prowess. I would be more than happy to sit down for another Speaking Spines production.            

I genuinely don’t remember the last time I was so invested in a piece of theatre. Alone is a sci-fi thriller that explores feminism, climate change, space, and whether tomato sauce belongs in noodles. Beginning to end, I am with them every step of the way.

Set on a spacecraft called The Lily of the Nile, the story follows Dr Sarah Taylor (Kat Glass) and Jessica Holland (Courtney Bassett) as they near the end of a two-year space mission. Dr Taylor believes her work with alien micro-bacterium is the answer to climate change, while Holland is the quirky and fun pilot responsible for ensuring their safe return home.

Together the set (Luke Thornborough, James Wright, Glass), lighting (Michael Goodwin), and sound (Thornborough) create a truly surreal atmosphere. While I clearly don’t know what it feels like to be on a spacecraft, this team has created exactly what I might imagine. The technical aspects of the production perfectly complement the narrative. With the slow build to the climatic chaos, the theatrical sound and lighting almost go unnoticed, as they feel so natural to what is happening in the story. From the frightening bangs and chilling flashes of light, to the silent darkness, every choice is executed with clear intention, and adds exactly what the narrative demands.

Despite their unimaginable circumstance, Dr Taylor and Holland are two complex, likeable, and passionate characters whose stories simply feel real. The two actors, dressed fantastically in matching jumpsuits (costume by Courty Kayoss), are just brilliant. They command the attention of the audience, and turn that wide open room into a space built just for them; it is their spacecraft, and I am so on board.

Alone is intimate, powerful, a little bit scary, and absolutely incredible. For a full 90 minutes I forget that I’m in a vast function room, watching a piece of theatre with a group of people. I’m holding my breath, on the edge of my seat, with my eyes open wide, and absolutely desperate for their every move.

Modern dating is hard enough. Finding love? Oof. Created by Pippa Drakeford-Croad, Nina Hogg, Matt Powell, and Alayne Dick, Cupid’s Guide to Modern Romance depicts awkward first dates in one improvised hour where even the couple’s characteristics change every night.

The evening begins with a winged Cupid (Powell) asking who in the audience is looking for love. It’s a heavy opening, perhaps one we’re not ready for, and no one responds. Not to be deterred, Powell asks who amongst us has found love. Newly married, I’m unable to restrain myself and put my hand up. Now, the entire character of Nikki (Dick) is based on how I’ve described Dean: “warm, kind, and secretly weird.”

Nikki’s love interest Jojo (Hogg) is based on another audience member’s attribute of indecisiveness. It makes for a wonderful ride, with Nikki embarrassed to admit she paints dinosaur collectables and Jojo unable to choose between five jobs. While the two actors ham up these qualities at the start (which isn’t a bad thing as it gets the crowd giggling), they gradually lean into more nuance as their characters evolve and storylines develop. By the end of the hour, we’re wholeheartedly rooting for them – both as individuals and as a couple.

This is largely thanks to the brilliant comedic timing of the actors, who hold onto an astounding amount of information and consistently bring the audience in on the joke. Their conversation is realistic and genuine, especially when it’s allowed to flounder past a scene’s natural end (as in the travellator in an aquarium awkward silence that leads to a squee-worthy kiss). It truly feels like we’re witnessing new love take its first steps. As our quick-witted, charismatic ringmaster, Powell sets the scene while Charlotte Glucina on keyboard helps to build it to a climax.

My friend looked at me after Cupid’s Guide to Modern Romance and said, “I needed that”. I think that’s a beautiful way to sum up this achingly sweet, funny-as-heck queer love story.

I’ve always been passionate about prioritising transparency and communication when it comes to topics and issues that might be considered controversial. Campfire Calamity does exactly that. The show creates a space to deal with confrontational topics like self-harm and suicide, and gives a voice to those whose gender identity and/or coming out stories aren’t often seen in mainstream media.

A queer, coming-of age comedy, Campfire Calamity follows a group of teens on a mandatory school camping trip, accompanied by their somewhat problematic and eccentric teacher (Jodie Lawrence).

Immediately, the nature of the show is intimate and personal. As the characters introduce themselves to each other, we learn a little something about each of them and what makes them unique. While some fall into stereotypes, and some performances feel unnatural, the dialogue is well written and realistic, making this story one which resonates with just about everyone. I’m particularly invested in Xavier’s (Isaac Andrews) character and story, and feel every emotion alongside him.

Performers often speak directly to the audience; we are a part of this journey, and are invited to listen in on their secrets. The set design is also representative of the audience’s inclusion in the group; with a dimly lit campfire at the front of the stage, and bench seats on either side of it for the actors, the audience seating makes up the other side of the circle around the fire.

Both the lighting (Lucas Zaner) and sound design (Dom van de burg) are simple but effective, mostly working to establish time and setting. Lighting in particular plays a major role in the comedic daydream sequences and flashbacks.

Overall, this piece is entertaining and feels like exactly the kind of theatre we need in our society. It feels like a story from real people, telling their authentic truth. I’d love to know a little bit more about these characters’ journeys, and I think there is space for some further character development. Bring on Campfire Calamity 2.0.

Through live music and storytelling, That Bloody Woman is like nothing I’ve ever seen. Turns out, when you combine classic Aotearoa history with contemporary dirty humour and a punk-rock aesthetic, it works pretty darn well.

Following the life of Kate Sheppard (Frankie Leota), the cast of That Bloody Woman takes us on the whirlwind journey of the New Zealand suffragette movement. Leota is supported by an epic ensemble (Aimée Sullivan, Kate Boyle, Allison Phillips, Jayne Grace, Megan Neill, Chris Gordon, and Angus Dunn), who jump in and out of different characters. Her challenger is none other than politician Richard Seddon (Chris Green), who is best suited to his nickname ‘Dick’.

The band at the back of the stage is the only permanent set, though interestingly, the wings have been removed to reveal backstage. Props, set pieces, and microphones are typically transported by the cast, though occasionally by two stagehands. This choice takes away from the seamlessness of the production somewhat. However, paired with the open backstage, it does make sense for us to see it all.

The lighting (Mike Slater) is colourful, bright, energetic, and absolutely reflective of the energy of the cast. The music (musical direction by Katie Morton, sound design by Patrick Barnes), performed by the live band and sung by different cast members, feels flawless and has the audience completely invested.

Each cast member is full of immense talent in every aspect, but I am most impressed by the ensemble – specifically the five women in their mismatched plaid and badass attitudes. Not only are they hilarious, they repeatedly verbalise my thoughts and feelings whenever Dick Seddon says something misogynistic.

While there are minor technical issues and a couple of questionable artistic choices (I will never find red MAGA – or ‘Make Dick Great Again’ – hats humorous), That Bloody Woman is a wonderful production. With the energy, the music, and the enlightening performances, this show is truly unique and heart-warming.

The Secret Lives of Sixteen-Year-Old Girls follows Lulu (Lola Gonzalez Boddy) and her mother (Sarah Boddy, known simply as Mum) as they navigate the complexities of growing up, and raising a child, in the digital age. Lulu’s relationship with Mum is going through the wringer, while her friendship with her bestie Lucy (Emma Rattenbury) has been rocky since she got with Blue. It all comes to a head when the two girls go to a party, vodka cruisers in hand. 

It sounds like the recipe for a great comedy, and for the most part the play is. But underneath the LOLs and witty one-liners (many of which are delivered flawlessly by Gonzalez Boddy), tension and terror brews. Lucas Neal’s sleek production design eloquently expresses the way social media can dominate our lives. The four screens that loom over the stage are underutilised – I particularly wanted them to show the missed calls and messages from Mum when Lulu misses curfew, matching the hectic sound design (Isaac Rajan) that builds to a climax at this point.

A huge shift occurs after this that echoes how quickly and drastically a whole world can change. It’s confronting but there is so much support offered to the audience, and the actors, who have to portray horrific events, do so with respect and dignity.

I’m not a teenager, nor am I a mother. I was able to identify with both Lulu and Mum, cringing at them and with them in turn. Boddy has risen to the challenge of writing flawed but loveable characters that we can all relate to, no matter what life stage we’re in. To see a real-life mother-daughter duo onstage living this dynamic is a real pleasure. Exceptional in their own right, their chemistry is a given. Rattenbury slots right in, elevating the atmosphere with an easy grace and giddy charm.

The Secret Lives of Sixteen-Year-Old Girls makes me want to put my phone down and hug the people I love.

Marrying cabaret and burlesque, Caburlesque is the longest running variety show of its kind in Wellington. For this jam-packed ABBA-themed rendition, I’m thrilled to join such an enthusiastic crowd. So enthusiastic, in fact, a bunch of hecklers regularly howl for “Carol”. The Carollers are handled beautifully by hostess with the mostess Sadie von Scrumptious, whose wicked sense of humour grows on me as she introduces the fABBAlous acts in turn.

The Red Queens kick it all off with a silly and sparkly, funny and fun belly dance to The Winner Takes It All. Felix Goodfellow then treats us to a swipe-right soirée, complete with a sequined eggplant I can’t describe in any more detail here. Taking the stage next – well, taking the pole – is the talented Cardiac Mercenary, who wows the crowd with trick after trick to a metal cover of an ABBA song. The darker notes of this routine feel out of place to me, but hey, they don’t call it a variety show for nothing!

Brightening the vibe is Rosina June with a sweet little karaoke number before Felicity Frockaccino comes in hot (pink) with a wholesome yet fierce lip-sync to Dancing Queen. Anglebert Humpermink brings the big mo and big energy to Does Your Mother Know, while Pip E-Lysaah has me watching her honey-centric act through my fingers. No spoilers here but boy did I screech. Then it’s time for Maree Prebensen and Giada Caluzzi’s dazzling pole routine to Money, Money, Money. Both look so at home on the stage and their chemistry crackles when they perform together. Constance Craving’s act sees her swap out lyrics in Mamma Mia to diss the movie, and while I wholeheartedly disagree (Mamma Mia is the most delightful film and I am willing to fight you on this), it’s one of my favourite performances of the night.

Ellie Kat’s lip-sync to an ABBA medley is the perfect finale. We’re boogieing in our seats, ready to go out into the night to – hopefully – find that blasted Carol.

Brown Crown follows the journey of a young Sāmoan woman, Masina (Falesafune Fa’afia-Maualaivao), as she navigates a contemporary world surrounded by never-ending expectations and legacies to uphold. As Masina finds her place in the world, her story is shown in conjunction with the old legend of Nafanua told to her by her grandmother.

From the moment I enter the space I’m overwhelmed by the calm and intimate atmosphere created. The room is dimly lit, with the main source of light coming from the display of large, hanging photo frames in the centre of the stage, filled with images cast from a projector (set design by Sarai Perenise-Ropeti). Masina’s story is told primarily from her family living room, set in front of the frames which are filled beautifully with family photos. When we travel in time and into the legend of Nafanua, a strong and empowering woman and warrior, the action takes place behind the frames, with dim red light cast on the figures. The use of set and lighting (Matilde Furholm) to guide us through time and location is unique, dynamic, and absolutely exquisite. Including beautifully choreographed fight scenes (depicted through dance), each aspect of the piece plays a key role in the production, and each works to complement the rest.

With the exception of the lead role, Masina, each actor takes on several characters. Actors Fa’afia-Maualaivao, Kasi Valu, John Ulu Va'a, and Ahry Purcell work wonderfully together; I’m amazed at how well they all convey the unique personalities and stories of each of their characters.

Complete with intimate storytelling, modern comedy, and both traditional and contemporary dance, Brown Crown observes the exploration of culture and identity. The story reflects on the weight Pasifika women carry on their shoulders, but is one that resonates with everyone; there’s not a soul in the audience who doesn’t empathise with Masina throughout her journey.

Beautifully written and directed, this story has me covered in goosebumps, on the verge of tears, and hysterical with laughter. What an incredible opening night.

Burt Bacharach: a name synonymous with musical genius. And yet, I know his name, I know so many of his hits, but I had no idea he wrote them! The Look of Love, Ali Harper’s latest show, sees the award-winning singer honour the songwriter responsible for I Say a Little Prayer, What the World Needs Now, and Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head. My friend and I had more than one ‘aha moment’. “Wait, he wrote that one too?”

With twinkling fairy lights, a sleek piano, and a couple of bar stools and mic stands the only adornments, the stage is set for intimacy and glamour. Harper is cloaked in sequins (clothes design by Roz Wilmott-Dalton) that catch the light and accentuate her star power. She is accompanied by resident musical director and pianist Tom McLeod (what chops!) and guitarist Callum Allardice, who brings a distinctly cool, laid-back vibe. Backing them all is the full might of musical director Tom Rainey’s arrangements, recorded with brass, strings, drums, the whole shebang.

The whole shebang is a great way to describe The Look of Love, a show in which everybody gives their all and then some. Harper’s joy is palpable, infectious. There is no way you can watch her perform and not see it radiating from her. There is no way you can leave the theatre without feeling it yourself. Her talent is difficult to put down in words; not only does she nail every note, her voice runs the full gamut of emotion, articulating the love and love lost that Bacharach’s songs so masterfully express.

In between songs, Harper shares Bacharach’s stories and waxes lyrical about her onstage and offstage collaborators, showering them with praise, adoration, and respect. Judging by the thunderous applause and standing ovation, the audience feels exactly the same way about Harper herself.

Go to The Look of Love and let Ali Harper catch you between the moon and Wellington City.

Until tonight, it didn’t feel a lot like Christmas, but these performers truly have “made the Yuletide gay” with their festivities.

Tonight’s host is none other than Judy Virago, whose exceptional costumes are gifts in themselves. Judy keeps the audience entertained between acts with storytelling, flirting, and even a performance of her own; there’s not a moment in the night that we aren’t completely encapsulated in the show.

The first act of the evening is everyone’s favourite Aunty, Pamela Hancock, who brings such beautiful variety with her live singing and storytelling. Her character is so well established, I feel completely invested in Pam’s life. Next, The Everchanging Boy beautifully executes a simple concept through aesthetically satisfying costume and props, and elegant dance. Judy shares that they are the only person she refuses to stand next to on stage, because they’re too beautiful, and now I understand; I simply can’t take my eyes off them. Homer Neurotic is wearing a giant Christmas advent calendar, and immediately I’m taken back to the Christmases of my youth. This time, it’s absolutely adult content. What’s in Homer’s boxes? I can’t wait to find out. With his brilliant combination of funny and sexy, this king is a crowd favourite. Christmas isn’t complete without a Grinch, so Willy SmacknTush is here to deliver. When he performs, he commands the attention of the entire room. Donning a shiny suit and some very big, green hair, Willy retells a story we've all heard, but this time when The Grinch destroys Christmas, we absolutely love it. Once of the most polished drag performers I’ve had the pleasure of seeing, Hariel is the gift that keeps on giving. With her burlesque-style performance, Hariel is cheeky, flirtatious, and wonderfully lewd, while somehow... tasteful? Her lip-sync is flawlessly articulate, and completely mesmerising.

Finishing the show with a festive group act, these performers have me completely invested, and ready to sing Christmas carols. With tinsel, music, and a whole lot of glitter, it finally feels like Christmas.