Based on F. Scott Fitzgerald’s 1925 novel, New Zealand playwright Ken Duncum’s adaptation focuses the classic story into a sharp, fast-moving production that prioritises exploring the drama and relationships between the characters over the glitz and glamour of the Jazz age. Nick Carraway is played by both Joseph Corbett in the present time of the story, and by Kevin Hastings as an older man in the future, serving to narrate the play as he reflects on his experience of moving to New York and being drawn into the world of his wealthy, enigmatic neighbour Jay Gatsby (played by Tom Kereama).

Larger ensemble scenes are a particular joy, with lively and stylish singing and dancing (choreography by Mel Heaphy) intensifying the energy and pace of the show. Every single cast member brings incredible commitment and enthusiasm to the stage. Supported by sharply considered and thoroughly precise costume design by Meredith Dooley, they vividly paint a picture of the era and Gatsby’s dazzling, illusory world. Lighting design by Devon Heaphy is also excellent, splitting the stage to show different places and times and suffusing the space with colour and meaning.

It would be impossible to pick out a single standout performer as each role seems to be perfectly embodied, which speaks to the cast’s understanding of the nuances of the characters. However, my personal favourite performance has to be Ava Wiszniewska as Myrtle Wilson, with a Long Island accent that is just delicious, and a feisty, self-assured spark that is wielded expertly through the character’s story arc.

The pace of the play lets up at the end, as story threads are tied up and the narration echoes the novel’s introspection and poetic language. Wellington Repertory Theatre’s production of The Great Gatsby will entertain audiences familiar with the story and those seeing it for the first time. The mint juleps served at the bar were a particularly nice touch, tying the whole theatregoing experience into an enjoyable evening.

The Griegol combines performance, puppetry (Jon Coddington), projections (illustrations by Hannah Smith, stop-motion by Ralph McCubbin Howell), smoke, and shadow play to tell the story of a Child (Stevie Hancox-Monk) reeling from the loss of their Granny (Elle Wootton). While Dad (Paul Waggott) is both distraught and distracted by the minutiae of death – collecting belongings, organising the funeral, managing the outpouring of cake and flowers – Child starts to see a spooky smoke demon possessing the people around them, including Granny’s Nurse and Gentleman Caller (both played by Ralph McCubbin Howell). Is the demon a manifestation of grief, or very, very real?

This Trick of the Light show is the ultimate confluence of stage magic. Tane Upjohn Beatson’s stirring sound design and compositions are played live by talented violinist Tristan Carter, who is lit by a flickering candle (Rachel Marlow’s lighting design cuts striking shapes and casts crucial shadows). The set and costume design by Sylvie McCreanor and Rose Kirkup slot into the picture like pieces of a puzzle, with a touching tribute paid to the late Kirkup at the end of the show. Brad Gledhill’s technical design ties it all together in the tendrils of a billowing smoke cloud.    

This was my second time seeing The Griegol. I was last in the audience at Te Auaha in 2022 and cried three times. Back then, it won Director, Composer, and Production of the Year at the Wellington Theatre Awards – and quite rightly so. I don’t think I’ve seen a more powerful exploration of grief onstage, and the show has stood proudly as one of the most beautiful in my recent memory. With complete knowledge of what I was in for this time, I was convinced I wasn’t going to cry. Just when I thought I’d escaped the waterworks, the tears fell thick and fast, mirrored on my friend’s face during the exact same moment. Just as moving the second time around, then, and so unique that it’s still novel.

I’ve always struggled to describe Trick of the Light shows. Like The Griegol, they feel beyond words. You know the way a bubble catches the light and glimmers in a rainbow of iridescence? That’s the way they make me feel. A split second in time, a tiny miracle, that I’m lucky to witness.

Orchestra Wellington’s Enemy of the State programme champions three composers whose works interrogate power and rebellion. The evening opens with John Psathas’ Next Planet, the 12^th work in his ‘Green Piece’ series. This protest against billionaires’ obsession with space colonisation is rhythmically driven and texturally dense, broken by moments of foreboding stillness.

Like many in the audience, I came to this concert for the Shostakovich, but was delighted to also get a delicious work by one of his predecessors: Alexander Glazunov’s Violin Concerto in A minor. I hadn’t encountered this concerto before, and I am glad to have heard it first through soloist Benjamin Baker’s interpretation, which revealed its extraordinary richness and invention. At times, Baker’s violin seems to split in two, one voice singing sweetly while the other dances in counterpoint. In other moments, the instrument resonates with the two harpists on stage, or evokes the timbre of a balalaika, playful and percussive. Baker draws out the concerto’s romantic melancholy while maintaining the intelligence of the voice. The orchestra, under Marc Taddei’s direction, is in excellent form and well balanced. They provide a lush and responsive backdrop, allowing Baker’s phrasing to shine.

The final work on the programme is a selection of excerpts from Shostakovich’s Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk, the opera that nearly ended the composer’s career after Stalin’s infamous denunciation in Pravda. Taddei’s arrangement preserves the opera’s grotesque humour and tragic intensity while ensuring the soloist and orchestra remain in dynamic equilibrium. The extra heft and bite of Hutt City Brass is put to excellent use, adding snarling glissandi and abrasive, distressing, or eerie colour as demanded. Soprano Madeleine Pierard is magnificent as Katerina. Her voice is powerful and precise, navigating the opera’s demanding vocal terrain with apparent ease. She captures Katerina’s complex emotional colour shifts of desperation and defiance. The orchestra weaves around her in a compelling dialogue, before rising spectacularly to the annihilating rage and despair of the work’s most intense passages.

There is a reason Gregory Porter was one of the headlining acts for 2025’s Wellington Jazz Festival: this two-time GRAMMY®-winning jazz vocalist, composer, and bandleader has captivated audiences worldwide for well over a decade with his soulful baritone vocals and stirring storytelling.

Strikingly tall and dressed in a white suit, Porter’s presence was formidable. The first song Holding On, featuring the blistering double bass of Jahmal Nichols, set the tone for the evening.

Strongly influenced by southern American gospel, at times Porter created an almost religious experience for his audience, who were often encouraged to clap and sing along – especially on Revival Song.   

If Love Is Overrated featured the sublime saxophone of Tivon Pennicott and Emanuel Harrold’s slick, energetic drumming.

Porter told the story of a bad teenage experience with a girlfriend’s father and how, 30 years later with his song Mister Holland, he was able to heal the wound that was in his heart since he was 15 years old. Powerful words that almost brought tears to my eyes.

Take Me To The Alley, with the audience singing on the chorus, featured the silky piano of Chip Crawford.

Then, with the rest of the band walking offstage, we were treated to a five-minute double-bass solo by Nichols that featured such classics as Play That Funky Music and My Girl (with Porter and the audience singing along!), Master Blaster (Jammin’) and Grandma’s Hands – before the rest of the band re-joined to play an enthusiastic Papa Was A Rollin’ Stone. Stunning.

Musical Genocide featured the uplifting, gospel-themed Hammond organ playing of Ondrej Pivec.

The last song of the set, No Love Dying showcased Porter’s sonorous, powerful, and gravel-edged vocals, and with his affable encouragement, some of the audience also joined in on the choruses.

There was no way the audience had finished with this superb band yet, so after a couple of minutes of stomping and cheering loudly, they were soon back for the first encore, Sting’s It’s Probably Me.

Hey Laura, featuring solos by all band members, was the perfect song to finish this vocal and musical masterclass. Come back soon.

A national jazz orchestra of Aotearoa was the vision of the legendary Rodger Fox and, judging by the inaugural performance of the Aotearoa Jazz Orchestra (AoJO), he would have very much approved. This concert featured music by Duke Ellington, one of the true giants of jazz who, with his long-time collaborator Billy Strayhorn, recorded their interpretation of The Nutcracker Suite in 1960.

Described in the programme as “a masterpiece of swing, wit, and orchestral colour”, where “Tchaikovsky’s melodies and Ellington’s imagination meet in a timeless musical dialogue”, this adaptation by the Aotearoa Jazz Orchestra of Tchaikovsky’s beloved ballet, in eight parts, held the jazz-loving audience in its grip throughout.

The premiere performance of The Fox (a tribute to Rodger Fox) which followed, written by musical director and drummer John Rae, and arranged by concertmaster, saxophonist, and clarinettist Oscar Lavën, was simply sublime. The solo performances of all 17 musicians showcased the tremendous depth of talent within the orchestra, with most solos receiving loud applause by the appreciative audience.

Lavën’s playing, especially on clarinet, was superlative, and a special mention should also be given to Michael Taylor (trumpet section leader), Kaito Walley (trombone section leader), and the superb rhythm section of Rae (drums), Ben Wilcock (piano), and Alistair Isdale (double bass).

Rae’s shoutout to sound engineer James Goldsmith at the end of the concert, whose excellent sound mix had all the musicians balanced not too loud but clear, was well deserved.

The programme starting with the Emerging Artist Feature, the Evie Patterson Quartet, was an ideal way to showcase some local jazz artists of the future. Evie also held the emerging artist seat as one of the six saxophonists in the orchestra.

Originally the Salvation Army Citadel, with its amazing acoustics and stunning architecture, Meow Nui provides the perfect home venue for this new orchestra. Let’s hope this is the first of many similar concerts to follow.

Standing at the crossroads between adolescence and adulthood, nearly too old for social care but not yet self-sufficient, Christy (Danny Power) finds himself kicked out of yet another foster home and moving in with his estranged half-brother Shane (Diarmuid Noyes), compassionate sister-in-law Stacey (Emma Willis), and baby niece Charlie just a few weeks ahead of his 18^th birthday. As a viral video circulates of him beating up another boy, Christy ambles around his childhood neighbourhood on the northside of Cork, meeting family friends and relatives that remember him, tell him stories of the past, welcome him, try and lift his spirits, and attempt to lead him astray. As he begins to settle in and find a place for himself, Shane continues to remind him that his time here is only temporary.

Like its protagonist, Christy sits somewhere in between drama and comedy, realism and poetics, sensitivity and harsh truths. Music video director Brendan Canty’s debut feature film is one of duality, juxtaposition, and liminality, where Alan O’Gorman’s well-balanced story meets cinematographer Colm Hogan’s natural, raw style with a script that places as much weight on a half-cracked smile as an expletive hurled like a hand-grenade. Christy isn’t fluffed up by movie magic; it’s grounded in deep empathy and gritty realism that focuses on authentic storytelling over showmanship.

As Christy sidesteps between getting involved with his rough cousins or a gaggle of rollicking local kids and a family friend’s hairdressing studio, the stars’ acting chops really begin to show and Gorman’s script starts to shine. This teetering between paths, lives, worlds is a constant throughout the Berlin International Film Festival Grand Prix-winning film, but it’s never depicted with judgement, only compassion. Where one cohort leaves a knot in your stomach, they’re not presented as inherently bad. Similarly, the other group, though heartwarming, aren’t perfect either. Just two sides of the same coin.

Whether you’re in it for the bittersweet story or the cheeky Irish heart, Christy is an exquisite and sensitive slice of life – be sure to stick around through the credits for a grin-inducing homage to Canty’s music video days.

Edith Aldridge (Mel Dodge) comes from political royalty: the daughter of a former prime minister, now about to take the stage on her first day as a groundbreaking female prime minister. It’s early. She’s in her hotel room and has 90 minutes before making her inaugural speech to a waiting world. In walks Rosie (Tara Canton), a substitute makeup artist, more often seen working the cosmetics counter at David Jones but who’s been plucked from obscurity because she’s a whizz with a contour brush.

Over the real-time interchange between these two very different personalities, writer Emily Sheehan exposes the cultural norms expected of women, particularly those in leadership, and the increasingly blurred lines between politics and celebrity. There are shades of Jacinda Ardern’s premiership in the persistent social media abuse of Aldridge and careful curating of her look for a magazine. In Rosie, we see a younger generation of women, superficially independent and bravely critical but still vulnerable to the ingrained and unrealistic expectations of men.

Dodge and Canton have great chemistry that Lyndee-Jane Rutherford’s naturalistic direction gives room to breathe. They challenge and ultimately empower each other, and both have secrets that are revealed in the overly personal setting of a makeup session. Props to both actors for convincingly managing an entire makeover while delivering a huge piece of dialogue and its emotional ups and downs with ease and conviction.

Ian Harman’s set design is unusually fulsome for the Circa Two stage and convincingly creates a plushly beige heritage hotel suite augmented by Talya Pilcher’s subtle lighting design. Being a tech nerd, I particularly appreciated Chris Ward’s AV and sound design for the women’s cell phones that cleverly avoided the awkward trap of putting ringtones through a theatre speaker.

Monument is a slick production all round that makes a highly relevant statement about the place and perception of women in today’s world of double standards and identity-driven politics. Through lifting each other up, all women can succeed.

The fact that Pekka Kuusisto made the call to switch the order of the programme should not have been a surprise although it was as well he did. Kuusisto champions music written and performed by women and where possible his programmes are 50-50. Louise Farrenc, a successful symphonic composer and professor in the 19^th century despite gender-biased society and establishment, fell into obscurity in the 20^th century. Ironically, Antonio Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons was also forgotten soon after it was written but has been immensely popular since it was rediscovered in the mid-20^th century.

From the first movement, Farrenc’s Symphony No. 3 has a very pleasing sound to it: a Classical feel with Romantic style. Melodies are shared across the orchestra and interesting rhythmic patterns run through the work. The Scherzo was a particularly good combination of speed and delicacy and effective changes of tone. There was a sense of a confident ‘whole’ of the orchestra and conductor.

Without the programme switch, Farrenc would have been overwhelmed by the weight of the audience’s anticipation and Kuusisto’s innovative, idiosyncratic interpretation of The Four Seasons.

Each season has three movements and by the end of Spring everyone knew this was going to be a unique year. Kuusisto took every opportunity to accentuate familiar features of the music and make them dramatic, whether by volume, balance, speed, technique, tone, or imitation. Towards the end of Spring we even heard bagpipes from the violins. (Proof bagpipes are unmistakable but violins – and anything except bagpipes – are more flexible.)

The Summer Presto was furiously fast and energetic, a perfect showcase for Kuusisto’s virtuoso violin playing. The later seasons were closer to the traditional sound, with refreshing presentation. The Autumn Adagio, just cello and harpsichord, was that beautiful simplicity that leaves you barely breathing. Winter had a realistic harshness, grey and gravelly, pizzicato like ice drops melting – and stunning violin from Kuusisto.

Rossini Stabat Mater: A mother’s love put side by side two interpretations of the 13^th-century Christian hymn that portrays Mary’s suffering during the crucifixion of her son. Each was quite different from the other and both were unlike traditional settings. Victoria Kelly’s Stabat Mater was commissioned by the NZSO as a response to Gioacchino Rossini’s Stabat Mater. Rossini’s piece strongly reflects his career composing operas in the bel canto style of virtuoso singing and elaborate vocal ornamentation.

Although the melodic and dramatic influence was there, it did not overwhelm the seriousness of the text which came through in the performance. Valentina Peleggi’s direction brought out the mood of each verse and the vocalists responded with feeling, especially when their solo voices were on display. Voices New Zealand Chamber Choir were excellent as ever. Led by music director Karen Grylls, their perfect diction, timing, phrasing, and dynamics are extraordinary and the best you will hear in Aotearoa.

The world premiere of Kelly’s Stabat Mater was an experience that lasted in my mind and body long after the performance. The music was profoundly emotional and somehow deeply, urgently visceral and beautiful all at once. In this Stabat Mater, Kelly’s reimagined Mary does not accept her son’s sacrifice, she does not weep nor mourn, but wields a sword and saves him. Kelly’s response to the eternal narrative of the suffering of women and mothers is a primal sense of rage and sadness expressed in an almost gentle, but powerfully nuanced and subtle simplicity.

Kelly wrote her own text and thanks to the vocal skill of Voices New Zealand, her perspective was plain to hear, as was the musical representation of Mary: a white crystal singing bowl, sometimes to the fore, other times absent.

Fittingly, the commission was funded by a consortium of female patrons, and honours for the evening went to a trio of women – composer, conductor, and choir director.