Shows

What a sparkly, sassy, spectacular way to open the 2026 Aotearoa New Zealand Festival of the Arts! Since 2008, Australia-based Briefs Factory have redefined cabaret with their own brand of queer subversion. With The Works, they thrust open their archives with a dazzling, daring, and delicious celebration of flesh, flash, and flourish.

For a gold coin, you can buy raffle tickets at the start of the show with the promise of a fabulous prize to be won. As suspected, that prize turns out to contain more than a little cheek – and I don’t mean the ones on your face. If naked tush makes you blush, this show ain’t for you! If it makes you whoop and holler for the beauty and sensuality of the human form, then this show definitely is for you. From feathery stripping drag numbers to burlesque trapeze over a bathtub, this is a glorious and gasp-inducing display of circus, comedy, crooning, and choreography. Sit in the front couple of rows and you’re literally immersed.

Kitty Bang Bang lights up the room with her whiskey-fuelled fire-eating routine; her flaming nipples need to be seen to be believed. The Evil Hate Monkey jumps through fiery hoops, bounces en pointe in a sparkly yellow tutu, and does obscene things with bananas that give eye-popping credibility to the full-frontal male nudity warning in the pre-show email. NASTIA’s hand balancing, Captain Kidd and Benjamin Butterfly’s aerial antics, and Serenity’s heel-wearing tumbling astound as much as Hollywood Star’s vocals and progressively revealed body inspire. And, Fez Faanana, exactly where do all those red flowers come from?

Joining these top-notch performers from Australia, London, and New York are local ballroom troupe, House of Marama. Their powerful gothic routine is a stunning introduction to this US Black and Latin-inspired Rainbow Pacific subculture for those unfamiliar with the local scene.

All the above is accompanied by a thumping dance soundtrack, intricate costumes, and bold haze-enhanced lighting.

Don your best briefs and get on down to the factory for the full works!

The Night Ali Died is a gripping story beautifully told. Pre-show, we see a single central chair, with two distinct piles of clothing in each upstage corner. This simple staging creates opportunity for the sole actor, Christopher Sainton-Clark, to shine.

And shine he does.

Each character in this criminal drama recounts the events before and after the death of mild-mannered chemist Alistair (‘Ali’). As they unpick the events of that fateful night, each offers their own back story and perspective. From drug lords to detectives, motivations gradually come into focus.

For Alistair in particular, this is a simple and honest account that invites reflection on who matters in our lives – and the role we might play in theirs. Chances are, our actions or character make each of us a hero to someone. In this story, Ali’s actions define him as a hero to the daughter he will never know. Yet the invitation to reflect never feels like lecturing; it remains, first and foremost, a compelling story.

Sainton-Clark uses mime to accentuate key elements; from the recoil of a gun to the grip of a knife, we are left in no doubt as to what has occurred. His multiple characters are sharply differentiated through mannerisms, movement, and speech.

The technical precision of this production is almost cinematographic in nature. It’s as if we’re watching carefully constructed scenes from a movie, but performed live in one slick, classy ‘take’. Lighting cues, including the use of brief blackouts, heighten the drama, while sound and music reinforce the mood (collaborative design by Sainton-Clark, director Rosanna Mallinson, and technical lead Daisy den Engelse). A minor quibble is the placement of sidestage curtains allowing an open view of backstage. I say minor because once the performance gets underway, I never take my eyes off the action on stage.

Wellingtonians have experienced something special with this limited two-night run of The Night Ali Died. There’s still hope for audiences in Christchurch, Oamaru, Nelson, and Dunedin over the next few weeks.

Decadunce is a frenetic, energetic, multi-layered romp that offers a merciless skewering of consumerism and excess.

Briscoes, Harvey Norman, and Uber are featured, with the focus of the satire less about the companies themselves and more about their target customer demographics. Lorenzo’s persona as a Harvey Norman salesman notes that all of their couches look like they were designed in 2001, while Uber’s younger generation customers have no money to their name, but still prefer the service to using their legs. And as for the Briscoes lady… I will never hear “You’ll never buy better” in quite the same way ever again.

As consumers, regardless of age, stage, or demographic, we are all roundly and hilariously lampooned.

Lorenzo offers a masterclass in audience engagement, with direct eye contact and energy that is irresistible. His stage performance is well supported by a striking set that offers superb functionality through its simplicity, and a soundtrack of energetic beats that reflect his own performance while keeping the buzz alive amongst the audience.

It is the clever integration of all those technical and creative elements that create the underlying energy for this show. Of course, we might expect that of every performing arts show, but it’s the sheer variety of those elements that make Decadunce something special. Lorenzo uses movement and dance, singing, voice, and caricature, beautifully integrated with sound, light, and stage. His talent is there for all to see, and the satire is generally well focused and targeted.

There are a couple of moments in the script that feel unnecessary. Satirising individual politicians is one thing, but making a personal slur against one within the show detracts from the wider satirical nature of the script. It’s clear that Lorenzo has the talent to create the satire without resorting to insult; maintaining the satire would have offered far more scope for humour.

Regardless of my personal status as an unabashed capitalist, this was a great night out. Energetic, biting, and seriously funny, it left me wanting to see more.

With the highly talented people involved, I had high hopes for this production and it didn’t disappoint. Once Upon a Time in Homowood is a hilarious and deliciously realised celebration of the LGBTQIA+ community.

As the show’s publicity blurb states, “cinema and theatre are vital for queer people to see themselves represented both in explicitly queer texts, as well as queer-coded works”. Hear, hear. To that end, Once Upon a Time in Homowood creates a fan fic of what would have happened if Jack from Titanic was a soft butch. How about if Sunset Boulevard’s Norma Desmond transitioned and Hollywood ditched her? What if Mark Zuckerberg and Eduardo Saverin kissed in The Social Network?

These three ‘original scripts’ by Cassandra Tse, Jamie Cain, and Matthew Loveranes are delightfully irreverent of Hollywood tropes and place their new, playfully queer plots front and centre. The characters and scenes we know and love are joyfully parodied by an energetic seven-strong (with the emphasis on strong) cast of Ruby Carter, Rachel McLean, Zachary Klein, Mike Bryant, Lincoln Swinerd, writers Tse, Cain, and Loveranes, and stage manager Julia Bon-McDonald in a delightful cameo. Under Cain’s highly creative and fast-moving direction, they all have standout moments, as well as forming a seamless ensemble. Klein’s tight-lipped Cal Hockley in Titanic, Bryant’s manipulative Max in Sunset Boulevard, and Tse’s idiot Winklevoss twin in The Social Network are just a few of the many highlights.

Lucas Neal’s brilliant set consists of HOMO writ large like the Hollywood sign across the full width of the Dome stage with each letter containing fantastically clever pop-out sections that create specific acting spaces. All sound is provided by the cast. Special mention to Tse for providing the beautifully sung soundtrack of classic Hollywood themes. Jacob Banks’ hardworking lighting design under Ruby Kemp’s skilled operation ties the whole performance neatly together.

Come to Once Upon a Time in Homowood and have a gay old time this New Zealand Fringe Festival!

Independent Auckland-based theatre company The Rebel Alliance has adapted its award-winning stage production into an illustrated radio play. The Valentina follows eight-year-old Ellen as she travels through space alongside notable figures who have ventured beyond Earth, such as Neil Armstrong, Yuri Gagarin, and Laika the Dog.

This show has a great New Zealand flair, hitting the mark perfectly with a humour that most Kiwis will be well familiar with. This is not only thanks to director Anders Falstie-Jensen’s incredible script, but also to the vocal performances by Talia Pua, Ross McCormack, Bronwyn Turei, Wesley Dowdell, and Kevin Keys. The actors’ voices are crisp and clear, bringing the vibrant characters to life.

John Verryt’s illustrations add a whole new colourful dimension to the story, providing a visual way to ground us in the narrative. I am mesmerised by the illustrations of space. The vivid sound design by Sean Lynch further stirs my imagination. The visual and aural elements work in tandem to create an experience so immersive, I feel like I am also a crewmember aboard The Valentina. The new format therefore supports the crux of the piece: that we should feed our imaginations and dreams.

There is a perfect blur of science fiction and reality at play here. The Valentina is both educational and entertaining. Fact and fiction are clearly delineated, but this doesn’t stop me wishing all elements were true… I would only dream of visiting Vitanonan X!

Easily accessible and universally appealing, The Valentina can be appreciated by adults and children alike. It is a feel-good piece, daring us to let our minds run wild and reach to the furthest depths of space. Be sure to watch this illustrated radio play before it blasts off to galaxies unknown. Fly like a toroa and get tickets to the online event this New Zealand Fringe Festival.

Have you ever come out of a theatre and thought: “I have no idea what that was, but I liked it”? Chances are that’s what you’ll be thinking when you leave D’Things N Such.

Four actors (Caleb Teaupa, Albert Latailakepa, Brett Taefu, and director Seiyan Thompson-Tonga) perform a seamless series of absurdist sketches that draw on pop culture nostalgia. They segue from boy band dance grooves, angry coffee shop interactions, and kids playing tag to movie and TV parodies, Russian tax mafia, incompetent gods, a tap-dancing Hulk, and even a ridiculous riff on The Glass Menagerie playing next door in Circa One. Accompanying these Tik Tok-style slices of comedic craziness are the musical stylings of Ete Reupena on keys (apart from when he’s briefly murdered, cremated, and his urn handed off to a front-row audience member). All of this is jubilantly performed with physical theatre, interpretive dance, group hugs, unexpected emotional punches, and high energy from the group known collectively as The Gentle Boys, each of whom brings bags of personality to their many and various roles.

On-point technical operator Hāmi Hawkins has his work cut out keeping up with the electric pace on stage to employ Isadora Lao’s colourful lighting design that works brilliantly with the actors’ antics. The colourful costume design (Helena and Otoota Cocker-Valu) delightfully and effectively amplifies the fun, and you can even buy a bucket hat made from the same materials as the actors’ jackets after the show. A shoutout also to Axel Iva for the minimalist but flexible set and prop design. Who knew that a giant box of matches could become so many other things?

D’Things N Such bills itself as “Wellington’s freshest, wildest and most unhinged theatrical experience since someone slapped corned beef and Nutella on toast” and they’re not wrong. This “disaster on purpose” is highly entertaining even if you have no idea what’s going on most of the time. Turn on, tune in, and enjoy!

Set after the death of playwright William Shakespeare, The Book of Will is a mostly faithful retelling of how those nearest and dearest to him compiled and published his work to keep their cherished companion’s ideas and memory alive. With thoughtful direction by Janet Noble, The Book of Will reminds us that legacies are intertwined and highlights the profound impact that people have on us.

Whilst the loss of loved ones leaves many holes for the characters, there seems to be a bit of an empty space when it comes to the ensemble’s sound design. In performance, they do contribute to some ambience, particularly at the beginning of scenes, although a much more sustained soundscape could help evoke even more mood and tension within scenes.

The performances of the Bard’s work throughout the play are captivating. I appreciate viewing his life’s work through a different lens. It was not necessarily Will’s own work in the end, but through the hard labour of those who loved him, we are still able to find wisdom in his words today. The show walks the tightrope between comedic and cathartic incredibly well. This is due in large part to the engaging cast.

Paul Kay as the overprotective but caring John Heminges, Ian Mortensen as the heart-strong Henry Condell, and Allan Burne as Richard Burbage (and other characters) are certainly highlights. Sylvia McKenna is excellent as Alice Heminges, and I would argue the crux of the story. Towards the end of the show, Meredith Dooley has a touching performance as Anne Hathaway Shakespeare. Like the compilation of Shakespeare’s work, the entire cast works together to provide us with a show as thought-provoking as the man this show precedes.

Before this review slips from your memory like what would have become of Shakespeare’s plays, I’d recommend heading to Gryphon Theatre at once to experience Stagecraft Theatre’s poignant production of The Book of Will yourself.

Below The Worms is an absurdist magic realism tale from a young theatre company that won the Parkin Development Award at last year’s Fringe Festival.

It follows the story of two families who live in homes that sit within the same house. A boy, Sonny (Te Ata Tu Patelesio), lives in one half with his dad and ailing grandfather (also played by Patelesio). A girl, Mags (Sugar Rea-Bruce), moves into the other half with her mum (Rea-Bruce again, who also doubles as the witch). They soon become friends. The children’s world is full of unexplained magic that slips into the everyday, such as the garden of singing worms and the witch who lives next door with her bloodthirsty hound. Despite the terrors and delights outside, the homes live in harmony until a kept secret between the families is revealed and the world is no longer what the children once thought.

The two lead actors manage multiple roles with aplomb, expertly tweaking their physicality and voices to suit their varying characters. They often interact using physical theatre techniques and dash up and down the traverse stage, climb a versatile piano, and relax into quieter moments with practised ease.

The supporting group of four actors (Nadia Officer, Eve Naicker, Cypha Clark, and Kimiora Honeycombe) are a delightfully versatile choir and ensemble. Dressed in a base of soft browns, they are the garden worms who sing catchy songs. They’re also the witch’s growling dog, casually cocking a leg when their arrogant mood suits. In addition, they operate beautiful white paper puppets of the insects and birds that flutter through the garden (designer Grace O’Brien).

With a clever set made from clothes strung on washing lines, effective lighting, and an excellent accompaniment of live music from music director Sarah Lawrence on piano, violin, and guitar, Below the Worms is a deeply charming and whimsical story about childish innocence and what happens to it when the strange and unsettling adult world intrudes.

First up in Circa Theatre’s 50^th anniversary programme, this production of Tennessee Williams’ autobiographical memory play is a brave contemporary adaptation. It retains the feel of 1930s St. Louis and revels in Williams’ lush language, while pushing the themes into a current context and drawing the most from the play’s dark humour.

Amanda Wingfield (Hera Dunleavy) is a faded southern belle who chose the wrong one of her many ‘Gentleman Callers’ to marry. He abandoned her and their children and is never seen but often mentioned as his actions have thrust the family into penury, despite Amanda’s desire for her children to have the same comforts she once enjoyed. The story is told through the eyes of her son Tom (Simon Leary) who struggles with a dead-end job to feed his family while scribbling poetry, escaping into movies and booze, and dreaming of adventure. Her other child, Laura (Ashley Harnett), is withdrawn and fragile. In this interpretation, she is likely on the autism spectrum with anxiety and self-enforced social isolation arising from mental and emotional challenges rather than the purely physical one scripted. The arranged Gentleman Caller is Tom’s workmate (Jackson Burling) who Amanda hopes will woo her daughter.

The cast is excellent, all enjoying the beautiful writing and Williams’ careful character creation while giving their personas fresh life. Newcomer Harnett is especially engaging. She has far fewer lines than the other actors and her ability to express the complexities of Laura’s character through action and expression is a joy to watch. An unscripted and joyous moment in the second half that cleverly covers Amanda’s tricky costume change is a sublime moment of directorial creativity (Colin McColl) and acting brilliance.

Tony Rabbit’s stark white set reinvents the cramped Wingfield apartment and works well with his subtle lighting design. John Gibson’s sound design weaves in Annea Lockwood’s stunning music drawn from natural infra and ultrasound to underscore the emotional weight of the play.

Don’t miss this sensitive reworking of a gorgeous classic.

Superior Donuts arrives at the Gryphon Theatre with warmth, wit, and a surprising emotional punch. Tracy Letts’ script centres on the unlikely friendship between Arthur (Allan Burne), the weary owner of a rundown Chicago donut shop, and Franco (McKay Findlay), the young, energetic employee who storms into Arthur’s stagnant world with ideas, ambition, and a stubborn refusal to let the shop, or Arthur, stay stuck in the past. Their evolving connection is punctuated by Arthur’s quiet monologues, in which he slowly, hesitantly reveals the regrets and wounds that still haunt him.

The production design cleverly supports this dynamic. The donut shop set (design by Lucy Sinogeikas) is pulled forward on the Gryphon stage, creating an inviting, almost nostalgic intimacy while leaving enough space to glimpse the Chicago street beyond through the shop window. It feels lived-in, warm, and grounded. The small bell that chimes whenever someone enters or exits proves an unexpectedly charming detail, subtly reinforcing the rhythm of daily life in the shop.

There’s an easy humour throughout, particularly in the miscommunications between characters from different backgrounds. The play’s cultural collisions are handled with lightness, allowing the comedy to emerge naturally.

The cast inhabit their roles with infectious delight. Findlay’s Franco is all authenticity and vibrancy, an immediately compelling presence who lights up the stage and makes it impossible not to root for him. Opposite him, Arthur’s tentative, awkward courtship with local policewoman Randy (Sarah Dickson Johansen) provides some of the production’s sweetest moments, with the actors’ clumsy, halting exchanges creating tenderness.

At times, accents and some mumbled delivery cause key lines to blur, and occasionally actors seem to play moments inward rather than responding fully to each other. I am certain that throughout the season, the connection will grow and help the emotional beats land with greater impact.

The climax of the plot is an excellently executed fight scene. Sharply choreographed (fight direction by Janet Noble) and enhanced by bold, clipped lighting blackouts (lighting design by Emma Bell), the tension and believability of the blows is the best I have seen on stage.

This Stagecraft Theatre production captures the heart of Superior Donuts with warmth and humour, offering a charming, hopeful, bittersweet night at the theatre.

Not Christmas, But Guy Fawkes is the other half of Circa’s tribute to the solo work of Bruce Mason running in an alternating season called Every Kind of Weather. Having been blown away by The End of the Golden Weather earlier in the week, I was intrigued to see this lesser-known piece that also features some biographical content gleaned from an interview with Mason and the foreword to a publication.

Having enjoyed the gorgeous production design (Jane Hakaraia and Sean Lynch) of The End of the Golden Weather, I was pleased to see the same set, sympathetic sound design (Paul McLaney), and lush lighting employed in this work. Subtle change came with a different and more deluxe chair, pages of script strewn round the edge of the acting area, and performer Stephen Lovatt’s outfit. He’d swapped a linen shirt, cotton trousers, and bare feet for a 1950s combo of button-up polo shirt, patterned slacks, argyle socks, and brown leather shoes to recreate the delightful character of Mason himself, who bookended the show.

Lovatt’s performance and Shane Bosher’s direction were even more engaging in this piece, the Mason-scripted part of which mostly involves an 11-year-old’s relationship with a school bully, the ugly and intimidating Fergus ‘Ginger’ Finucane. Lovatt’s character-flipping skills are brilliant here with small changes in facial expression, voice, and posture being all that’s needed in the intimate venue of Circa Two to tell us who is speaking. His characterisation of Mason is equally expert, bringing to expressive life someone who knew he was an artist from the age of eight and described himself as “temperamentally, an overreacher”. Bosher’s delicate direction is especially effective in the final section of the piece as Lovatt simply sits in the chair directly facing the audience and is utterly engrossing.

I didn’t think it would be possible to top the first half of Every Kind of Weather. However, I was one of the many audience members on my feet at the end of this one. Just wow.

Robin Hood – The Pantomime opens its curtains (of the waterfall) with Lorde’s Royals, a song that summarises this madcap folk tale. In the torn-up town of Wellywood, Robin Hood (Kathleen Burns) and his Merry Men, Lil’ John (a beautifully bumbling Aimée Sullivan) and Friar Tuck (Bronwyn Turei, Ngāti Porou), are forced to squat in squalor while the Sheriff (Jackson Burling) lords it up from on high. Maid Marian (Natasha McAllister) detests the Sheriff’s latest tax scheme, while her handmaiden, Courtenay Place (Jthan Morgan, Ngāi Tāmanuhiri, Rongowhakaata, Magiagi, Sapāpali’i, Lotofaga), is recently bereft and dismayed by her new status as a poor (pronounced 'purr') lonely widow woman. And so, she sets her sights on He Who Must Not Be Named, the Sheriff, in the midst of his e̶v̶i̶l plans.

Spanning hits from the likes of Kelly Clarkson (Turei’s lead in Since U Been Gone is jaw-dropping) and Taylor Swift (Burns’ chorus of Look What You Made Me Do is my show highlight), Shania Twain (such a tender You’re Still The One from McAllister and Burns) and Meghan Trainor (Morgan does look good in that Versace dress) (costumes by Sheila Horton), music is a key component of Robin Hood – The Pantomime. Music director Michael Nicholas Williams’ stage-side presence is sorely missed, particularly his tinkering on the keys. While more instrumental music would help drive the momentum in the first half, his arrangements and magic medleys feature his signature flair and work in well with Oliver Devlin’s effects-laden sound design. Every beat is perfectly accentuated by McAllister and Morgan’s hip, ‘camp’ choreography, which hits the bullseye every time.

The cast’s consistent and charismatic audience interaction ties the show together in a bow (and arrow). Morgan is a standout here, making two friends to bring to her sausage sizzle. Wildly special mention to an exceptional Burling, who feeds on boos like Raz feeds on mustard.

When I think of the Kiwi summer, I think of Circa Theatre’s beloved annual pantomime. Robin Hood – The Pantomime is as gloriously silly as the silly season it celebrates and signifies. A fun, fanfare-filled, festive treat for all.