While its subtitle may read Entrepreneurs Who Broke Big Soda’s Stranglehold on the USA and New Zealand, the book centres around just one protagonist: Kiwi businessman Glenn Elliott. He is the founder of King of Kiwi, a company that created a line of drinks made with all-natural Kiwifruit pulp.  Described as a ‘daily health hit in a bottle’, Elliott’s goal was to give the consumer a healthy alternative to the sugary offerings that are more well known, such as Coke or Pepsi.

Better For You documents Elliott’s journey as he takes his products (Kiwi-Shot and Kiwi Revivor) and dips his toes into the sometimes-choppy waters of the American drinks market. We get to see his highs and lows as he experiences what it is like doing business in a foreign country. Along the way author Lisa A. Lewis details his progress, offering a shoulder to cry on and a sounding board when things go wrong.

It’s an exhilarating adventure, made even more exciting because of how high the stakes potentially are. Every setback could have easily stopped him in his tracks, ending the entire endeavour.

Elliott makes the perfect David to America’s Goliath, and I found myself cheering him on throughout his adventure. Lewis herself becomes something of Elliott’s sidekick, and I could tell that they had great chemistry and worked well together.

My only gripe is with the photos that Lewis includes halfway through the story. None of them have the usual descriptors at the bottom that let people know what’s happening. As a journalist (sometimes photographer) this is a big no-no as it risks confusing the reader.

Apart from this one little foible, the book is fantastic and I couldn’t put it down until I got to the final chapter. It’s clear, it’s fun, and it’s an easy read. I would recommend Better For You for anyone thinking about starting up their own business who wants to know what they might be in for.

As the front cover of his latest biography says, this is not a political memoir. Instead, it’s a reflection on who Simon Bridges is as a person, about his life as a father, husband, and politician. His new book National Identity covers a wide range of topics, delving into the minutiae of what makes him tick and why he is the way he is.

For those that don’t know who I am talking about, let me give you the abridged version. Simon Bridges was born in 1976 in Auckland and started out as a lawyer before deciding to turn to politics. He eventually became head of the National Party in 2018 before losing the leadership two years later.

National Identity is essentially a warts and all look at his views on things like the ‘haves and have nots’, the role of social media in politics, the growing class system developing in our society, and more.   

One of my favourite parts of the book is when he’s describing his nationality and how he views his bi-racial ethnicity (Ngāti Maniapoto iwi and English descent), calling himself a Māori, English Kiwi. Even though he loves the UK, in his own words, his ‘Vogel’s is buttered here’ (in New Zealand).

While there’s no way to judge a person based on one title, his writing gives me a ‘good bloke’ kind of vibe. The language is simple and down-to-earth. It’s not dumbed down at all but easy enough to read that anyone can just pick it up and go.

While you might peg a former National leader as wholly conservative, Bridges’ views seem to be more progressive than I first thought. In fact, in my opinion, it would be a huge mistake to give National Identity a miss based on political leanings alone. While it won’t convert you to the other side of the political spectrum if you’re not there already, it may surprise you and at least provide an insight into how political leaders think.

Rosy Fenwicke is a full-time author who wrote the Euphemia Sage Chronicles, Death Actually, and the fast-paced Cold Wallet. This novel taught me things about Bitcoin I didn’t know or think I needed to. It was interesting to learn more, as it may be the currency of the future. There are hot wallets too in this thriller about a young woman’s life that’s thrown into chaos when she inherits a cryptocurrency company. Fun fact about Bitcoin from the book: “The electricity to run the programmes costs a fortune. Did you know computers and the energy needed to run them contributes more to CO2 emissions than all the air travel in the world?” Wow. 

The story is told by the central character Jess, and Henry, her nemesis. Jess is a doctor and Henry is her husband’s business partner who is jealous of her and the hold she has over her husband Andrew. They share chapters to tell the tale of greed and trying to out-fox each other. I loved this sentence: “He was suffering from an advanced case of destitution.” No wallet for him then.

Set in Auckland, it’s easy to imagine the Viaduct apartment and glamorous lifestyle they enjoy. The Fiji honeymoon sounded even more exotic as I read this book in lockdown. It was also a coincidence while I was reading it that some cryptocurrency folk violated lockdown in Auckland!

There are anti-heroes, erotica, baddies, death, and a great pace and rhythm that kept me wondering, what next? Who should Jess trust – the police, her lawyer, the Uber driver who mysteriously turns up whenever required? There were instances of gruesome violence and bad things happening to people, including amputations (just a warning).

I did not expect Cold Wallet to end the way it did, which was great. It was full of twists and I needed to know what was going to happen, which kept me on edge. And there are unanswered questions too, so a good tale told.

Walking into BATS Theatre for my first NZ Improv Festival outing, I’m thrilled to be greeted by a staff member with a bright orange sticker. I’m told I can wear it if I want to participate in the show, which I think is a brilliant innovation. Some people are put off improv simply because they don’t want to be singled out. As a Leo, I of course take the sticker and stick it straight on my forehead.

Agatha Christine (Christine Brooks) welcomes us to the Random Stage and sets the scene for Murder on a Boat, where a cast of 10+ scramble to solve the whodunnit aboard the SS Maria Williams. As this is improv, who plays who and who murders who is decided in real-time over one hour of spontaneity and rapid-fire thinking.

Although there are instances of players talking over each other and misinterpreting offers, I thoroughly enjoy Murder on a Boat from start to end. Tightening it up a tad would simply help the great premise and enthusiast cast shine even brighter.

Standout members include Matt Powell, whose detective Sebastian Le Crabbe perhaps isn’t as ready to hand over the reins as he first thought; Marea Colombo, whose charisma as the overworked Beverly nearly steals the show; and Tara Swadi, whose Duchess Fox is killed off far too early. This doesn’t count as a spoiler because it’ll be a different murder victim next time!

Moments of brilliance have me cackling into my mask. One such is a passionate encounter between star-crossed lovers Beverly and the Captain (Daniel Allan), whose impromptu shanty To Sea, ably accompanied by Matt Hutton on keys, is another favourite scene of mine. When there’s a danger of boring ol’ misogyny creeping in, Laura Irish flips the narrative as the ship’s singer Maxine.

As Murder on a Boat comes to a close, I look at my friend and declare it to be “really, really, really good”. I’d love to see it again.

New Zealand’s loudest mime takes the stage at Circa Theatre to deliver school holiday fun for kids aged four to 94. This short, snappy, silly show starts with Fergus Aitken’s beloved Mr Fungus enjoying a coffee at home before a radio ad reminds him he’s got to get to Circa… we, the audience, are waiting!

The first half of Mr Fungus sees him riding the bus and battling the elements to make it to the theatre on time and the second is the show itself, where Mr Fungus bursts through the curtain of a light-up box that serves as a stage on the stage (meta set design by Aitken himself).

This structure is easy to follow for the kids. Even with very little dialogue they seem to keep their place and increasingly become more engaged, yelling suggestions like “check your suitcase!” or “the other banana!” or “I don’t know who that cat is!” or “Poppa, that’s where Cinderella was born!” Kids say the darndest things.

Though this isn’t an interactive or improv show so to speak, Mr Fungus responds beautifully to the littlies, giving them their moment in the sun while teasing them just a tad before driving the action forward. It’s clear how much the children love the show, especially when it comes to the addition of colourful props like the flying, farting balloons that make up the spectacular finale.

As a grownup (legally speaking), I’d love to see Aitken ham it up a bit more when things go wrong. For instance, when a juggling ball or a banana is dropped, a slapstick slip gag would satisfy that diabolical desire for disaster that kids have but that I don’t because adults are much more sophisticated than that…

What strikes me the most is Aitken’s gift for physical comedy. The way he embodies multiple characters with a simple gesture or makes his body appear weightless while fighting Wellington’s driving horizontal rain and gale-force winds (highly effective sound design by Aitken and director Fraser Hooper) is simply astonishing. Bravo!

Annette is, in equal measure, one of the most original, baffling, and alienating films I’ll see this year. A surreal experience that reflects the sensibilities of its creators, it builds frustration without relief, yet I can never quite bring myself to look away.

The English-language debut of French filmmaker Leos Carax, Annette is an almost dialogue-free sung-through musical with story and songs by Avant-Garde art-pop duo Sparks. Adam Driver stars as comedian Henry McHenry, who falls madly in love with Ann Defrasnoux, an opera singer portrayed by Marion Cotillard. The birth of their daughter Annette reveals cracks in their star-powered romance, and the plot thickens further when it is discovered that Annette is a prodigy vocalist herself.

Carax is not remotely interested in the real, which we are told from the opening number, a meta tune in which Sparks themselves join a chorus and our lead actors in asking, “so may we start?” This teases a bubblegum musical that never arrives, as once we truly enter, things only fall deeper and deeper into the abyss.

It’s certainly brave to leave us with a lead character this vain, repugnant, and egotistical. Henry’s comedy act relies on shocking his audience, and it seems his presence in Annette is designed to have the same effect on us. This could have been effective had he been portrayed by a lesser-known actor, but here we have Driver – the dude from Star Wars – and it confuses the portrait Carax is trying to paint. 

Carax’s audacious visual inventiveness constantly tests the audience; sometimes they suck me in, other times they push me away. Henry and Ann’s waltz atop their yacht, backed by a rear-projected storm, is mesmerising, while the cartoonish ‘Showbizz News’ segments boast greenscreen effects so intentionally terrible they would be better suited to a Saturday Night Live sketch.

Every frame and story beat of Annette demands dissection, and it is destined to become the subject of cult fascination. It will always feel somewhat empty and muddled, but never will it lose its sense of wonder and weirdness.

The cleverly named Maximum Benefit is Max Porozny and Ben Jardine, who specialise in long-form improv. Taking a few suggestions from one audience member – in this case, accidentally, me – the duo perform an entirely made-up story from start to finish over one hour of laughter and joy.

Our Level 2 masked-up affair starts with the two asking what we wanted to be when we grew up. I shouted “astronaut”, but when asked to go into more detail about my failed career plight, panicked and changed my answer to popstar. I also managed to outline my first ‘gig’ standing on a chair at Valentines Buffet Restaurant at the age of 11.

And so began a show about a jazz musician named Sanders Valentine, an agent with a dubious accent (or four), a budding young busker-hating police officer on his first day on the force, a kindly burger-maker, and perhaps most importantly, taco night at Mum’s place.

The great thing about reviewing improv is that I can’t spoil the show – because no two shows are ever the same. Unless you were in the audience with me, you will never see what I saw, which was two alarmingly calm and collected actors ready for whatever the night threw at them. Their quick wit, intellect, craftsmanship, and chemistry served as catcher’s gloves when a ball was dropped. 

While there were a few hiccups, most were minor and quickly saved by these proficient players. The only real confusion for me was when they switched established characters – for instance when Porozny suddenly became Sanders after Jardine had played him for most of the show. Just a few solid anchors, like a couple of main characters that don’t change, would help the audience to keep their place amongst the sea of silliness, fun, and chaos.

Overall, this was a supremely entertaining show that I’d happily watch again and again. Just ignore me when I yell about astronauts next time.

First-time director Braden Lister has made a good fist of his debut production, despite COVID disruptions and a last-minute pack-in at the Gryphon Theatre, which is not New Players Theatre Company’s usual venue.

In Murder on the Menu, friends Skye (Ruby Braam) and Sophia (Sarah Upston) buy a dilapidated theatre which soon reveals itself to be full of the ghosts of Shakespearean characters who roam the auditorium declaiming lines from their famous plays. ‘Tights Boy’ Romeo (Pippa Liley) is the first to appear, followed in quick succession by Hamlet (Lyndon Jones) forever searching for drama queen Ophelia (Danica Frentz), a vain Juliet (Liv Calder), and the haggis-obsessed Macbeths (Euan Lucie-Smith and Yvonne Fisher). Skye and Sophia need to rid themselves of these pesky ghouls to be able to open a café, but how do you kill a fictional character who is already dead?

While the script is not high on intellectual challenge, Shakespeare fans will enjoy the revisioning of the most famous of his characters and the meta theatre jokes that pepper it. Those not so familiar with the theatre lexicon will enjoy the lively comedy that arises out of the murderous intentions of two people trying to off a group of ghosts.

The cast playing the Shakespearean characters all inhabit them with energy and relish, clearly enjoying the expanded dialogue and larger-than-life histrionics as they interact with each other. Lucie-Smith gives the performance of the night as Macbeth, revelling in his brash bonhomie, healthy appetite, and predilection for fart jokes. Braam and Upston are the glue that holds the narrative together and deliver that function with verve and good chemistry.

The lighting design by Jonassen Productions deserves special mention for its appropriateness and attention to detail. In one lovely moment, three lights that are seemingly just props unexpectedly come to life to great effect.

Congratulations to the whole team at New Players for a fun night of theatre that brings a splash of joy in these COVID-limited times.

Hands up how many people think of cricket and instantly start thinking of poetry. I imagine not that many, since they’re not things that someone would normally associate with each other, but surprisingly the two subjects have had a loving relationship since the 18th century. 

While I have never been a fan of poetry or the sport, I have to admit to finding myself smiling more than once at some of Mark Pirie’s work. Light-hearted, funny, and sometimes thought-provoking, Slips gives people a glimpse into the funny side of cricket, which I always felt took itself a little too seriously.

This collection of poems has obviously been a labour of love for the writer, and his passion shines through with each verse. What could have been just poetry is instead turned into a sort of deep dive into the game’s rich history and shows us why it has the legion of fans that it does.

From toasts to players of yesteryear to the sometimes ridiculous ways that people have been dismissed from games, nothing is out of bounds (so to speak), and Pirie happily pokes fun while being respectful. As a result, Slips: Cricket Poems comes off as both charming and genuinely entertaining.

However, as wonderful as it is, a major downside is that unless you absolutely love cricket, a lot of that charm and humour will be lost on you. The book is clearly aimed at the cricket-mad fans and poets out there, and I’m afraid that anyone else will feel left out in the cold.

Apart from this one quibble, at the end of the day, if you love cricket and love poetry, this is definitely the book for you. While it won’t be for everyone, Slips: Cricket Poems is a wonderful read that I think would tickle many people’s funny bones if they gave it a chance.