Instant Theatre is a fully improvised, character-driven performance of real people in real situations. With no scripts, no games, and nothing prepared, three performers (Sarah Ashill, Thomas Bauer, and Tony Yuile) spontaneously create new lives and their stories each night.

With just a prompt from the audience for two emotions – anger and ecstasy – to guide the direction of the narrative, these talented actors created the simple but beautiful story of a couple experiencing the 13-year itch and trying to rekindle the flames of romance on a dream vacation at a tropical resort. The wife, Angie, is keen for adventure and excitement while husband Tom just wants to do what they usually do on holiday – sit by the pool and drink cocktails. Jealousy raises its ugly head when Angie goes for surfing lessons with a hunky instructor, but these classes save the day when Tom finally decides to venture outside his comfort zone and steps into the waves alongside his wife. Angie’s best friend Janice also enters the picture secretly occupying the room next door, while Tom makes friends with the mysterious Charlie over drinks and chess.

Unlike other improv troupes, these actors don’t employ random props or silly hats to tell their tale. Their stories come from the heart with just four stools to provide some physical variations and well-timed blackouts from coach Ben Zolno on the lighting desk to shift the scene. This spareness of staging provides for authenticity, and audible ‘aahs’ from the audience accompanied the most heartfelt moments.

Like all good character-driven stories, I was left wanting more. Why did Angie feel the need to bring her bestie on a supposedly romantic getaway? Who is Charlie exactly and why does he come to this resort every year? Will the brief encounter between these two lead to anything? Of course, with limited time and a spontaneous story, these questions can never be answered, but it’s a testament to the rich layering these improvisers can achieve that I even considered such questions.

With the current government’s ‘tough on crime’ stance, Iron is a timely work for Stagecraft Theatre to have chosen. Rona Munro’s sharply drawn drama about a mother and daughter reconnecting after 15 years apart is given a heavy weight of meaning by being set in a women’s prison, where inmates and guards alike are institutionalised by the straitjacket of punishment.

Fay (Karen Anslow) was locked up for killing her husband. This left her daughter Josie (Ivana Palezevic), a child at the time, deeply traumatised and destined to become a successful but lonely adult. Supervising their visits are two guards (James Bayliss and Helen Mackenzie Hughes) whose personal lives and attitudes have been shaped by the work they do far more than they should be.

The cast of this production are excellent. Anslow draws out Fay’s complexities and passions with skill and energy. Palezevic is awkward and devastatingly emotional as her troubled daughter who just wants to be able to remember. Their relationship is believable as it deepens and evolves with each visit.

Bayliss imbues his guard George with humour and paternalism over his female charges while he scoffs from Josie’s well-meaning fruit baskets. Mackenzie Hughes’ guard Sheila is uncomfortably hardened by the overstepping, love-hate relationship she has with Fay.

The traverse set (Neil Wallace) brings the audience close to the stage and involved in the story as the actors occasionally break the fourth wall to include them. The transformation that moves the action to the prison garden is a lovely moment of creativity. The stark lighting (Jamie Byas) and monochrome wardrobe (Rosie Glover) add to the grimness of the prison setting. I would like to have seen the actors given more dynamic movement to match the quality of their performances, as the static blocking has two characters sitting and talking across a table for long periods of time.

With its topical themes, well-crafted relationships, and engaging performances, Iron will leave you with much to mull over.

When it comes to teen icons and Hollywood royalty there are few that surpass Lindsay Lohan and Jamie Lee Curtis respectively. Together in the early 2000s, they made what my generation would call cinematic gold in Freaky Friday. Co-starring in the 2025 sequel Freakier Friday, they’ve mined somewhat of a diamond in the rough, full of messy and sparkly moments in equal measure, but no less dazzling.

I might be biased in saying I enjoyed Freakier Friday immensely considering I grew up on a steady diet of early 2000s teen movies, but who am I to rebuke a reboot and miss out on reliving the angsty, digital nostalgia of my childhood? It doesn’t quite live up to its 2003 counterpart, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a bit of fun.

What Freakier Friday does best is bring itself into 2025 without losing the charm it had in 2003. Incorporating current pop culture and ideas, it rehashes the teen daughter-young mum dynamic without seeming like an outdated trope thanks to director Nisha Ganatra. Plus, the script is flipped this time: Anna (Lohan) and her mum Tess (Curtis) get along beautifully in adulthood; it’s with her own daughter Harper (Julia Butters) and stepdaughter Lily (Sophia Hammons) that she doesn’t always see eye to eye. The best part about Freaky Friday was seeing a kid enjoy the freedoms (and responsibilities) of being an adult, and this remains true as we watch Lohan and Curtis galivant across the screen as ‘teenagers’. Their performances are formidable and relatable. Their enjoyment is palpable, as is costume designer Natalie O’Brien’s, but the outfits just aren’t quite as iconic as they were in 2003 – the soundtrack, however, is just as banging.

Where Freakier Friday misses the mark is in the story. With more characters comes more complications. It’s fun and it’s silly, with several callbacks to the original, but there are moments that seem random, unnecessary, rushed, and overall a bit weak.

That being said: “I haven’t watched a fun movie like that in a long time. It’s put me in such a silly mood,” my friend said before we scurried off down the road chanting Take Me Away at the top of our lungs. And I couldn’t agree more.

In December 2023, the activist group Te Waka Hourua caused a nationwide furore when they abseiled into Te Papa and painted over the three articles of the English Treaty of Waitangi Exhibition to read: “No. Her Majesty the Queen of England the alien. ration the Queen’s veges.” This ‘redaction action’ provoked strong opinions across Aotearoa with some singing their praises and others calling for retribution. While all the artists were charged, only one – Te Wehi Ratana – got jail time. He spent 48 hours in Rimutaka Prison, about which most of this out-there and poignantly funny play is concerned. In the most unlikely of circumstances, Ratana’s hard-core cellmate Brian and 180 nicotine lozenges inspired a movement for change.

Playing Ratana, Brian, and an unnamed actor tasked with bringing this (mostly) true story to life is Ngahiriwa Rauhina. Full of energy, talent, and passion for this overtly self-aware tale, he commands the audience’s attention. Deftly switching between characters, he bounces around the cleverly designed stage (Nicole Marsh) in his orange prison jumpsuit and cool Michael Jackson Toitū Te Tiriti T-shirt (costume design also Nicole Marsh) delivering quick-fire dialogue and frequent direct address without pause.

Supporting Rauhina is the chameleonic voice of Roy Iro as the intimidating but ultimately soft-hearted prisoner Junior, plus a host of other characters. Excellently creative and well-timed projection (designer Jane Hakaraia, operator Marshall Rankin) and an entertaining soundtrack (Connor Magatogia) also provide context and visual comedy for Rauhina to perform with. Ironic props (Nicole Marsh again) of road cones, a tino rangatiratanga flag, and a guitar add to the assumption-defying nature of this production.

ration the Queen’s veges is as audacious a piece of Māori theatre as the original act of frustrated protest that inspired it. As Rauhina declares: “Do the mahi, get the treats” – make the effort to see this show and you’ll be justly rewarded with a unique piece of theatricality about a singularly Aotearoa display of defiance.

This show acts as a cringeworthy (see what I did there) and hilarious history lesson about one of the most iconic decades of music for mankind. Get Down on It with Cringeworthy: The 90s, featuring iconic choreography (Andrea Sanders and Devon Neiman) and songs like …Baby One More Time, How Bizarre. We Like to Party, and Silly Love Songs.

The show begins with four authentically 90s performers – Sanders, Neiman, Kali Kopae, and Jared Pallesen. Each one of them rocks their body through each number, and the singing would make Alanis Morissette proud. The group is incredibly NSYNC with each other. Just when you think it can’t get any better, Mackenzie Htay – a Gen Z with his heart in the 20th century – joins in Act Two for even more boyband-crazy moments.

The quips are side-splitting, and the whole production feels reminiscent of Six: The Musical, only this time about all things 90s. I cannot commend the choreography enough – each performer dances with absolute vigour from start to finish, and it’s no wonder the audience is cheering throughout. The costuming (in collaboration with Creative Show Off Costume Hire and the cast) is fly, while the set (Mitch Sigley) provides some clever and interesting nods to the era.

Despite being born close to the 90s, I feel like I am the youngest person in the audience. But that does not Sway me – I still feel completely immersed in this decade and am MMMBop-ping the entire time. Cringeworthy: The 90s is fun, uplifting, and educational. I hope the producers (Beatgirl Productions) continue the series with an instalment all about the noughties.

Words can’t do it justice, so breakdance your way down to Circa Theatre: “you gotta know to understand” just how incredible this show is.

PS: I don’t apologise for how many puns I’ve just written, because This Is How We Do It with a review of this kind.

While Tāwhirimātea (Māori god of wind and weather) and Te Ihorangi (Māori god of rain) reminded us we are still looking forward to spring in Wellington, the NZSO lifted our spirits to remind us the blast of winter will give way to the new season soon in Ascension, the second concert of their Rumakina Immerse Festival.

Vesa-Matti Leppänen, playing the now, sadly, late Michael Hill’s own violin, took to the skies as The Lark Ascending, an early 20^th-century English classic. The violin has a beautiful tone, bringing light and shade to the birdsong even when the lark was at his highest. We have skylarks in New Zealand too and Ralph Vaughan Williams’ evocation of English skies and rolling hills translates into our landscape and light.

Papatūānuku is the outcome of a remarkable collaboration between taonga pūoro expert Jerome Kavanagh Poutama and composer Salina Fisher. In his pre-concert talk, Poutama spoke of how his music is all held in his head, each piece bound to a memory of the time, place, and event of its creation. Fisher’s orchestration was written to wrap around and support Poutama’s melodies and there were some beautiful matches between traditional orchestral instruments and the many taonga pūoro (singing treasures) Poutama used to give voice to Papatūānuku, the Earth Mother. A wonderful instrumental rendition of the dawn chorus instantly reminded me of hearing that amazing natural phenomenon on Kapiti Island, a conservation reserve rich in birdlife. The fluttering, twittering, flurrying, and calling on stage was as close to the real thing as you could get.

In contrast, Robert Schumann’s Symphony No. 1 Spring is firmly of the classic Romantic era. Traditional in form and more familiar to the ear than Papatūānuku, the sound was perfectly balanced and expertly played. Conductor André De Ridder’s direction was joyful, directive but nuanced and engaging. We will all look forward to seeing more of him when he takes up the role of NZSO’s musical director from 2027. Haere mai, Maestro!

Wellington’s weather lined itself up perfectly for the opening concert of the NZSO’s 2025 Rumakina Immerse Festival, although the title of Modest Mussorgsky’s Night on Bald Mountain could be an understatement for the state of the streets on a cold, wet, windy night in August. The violins, brass, and percussion set up the witches’ sabbath gathering, shrieking and howling most convincingly before eventually resolving into an uneasy peace, led by clarinet and then the flutes. Later, when we left the Michael Fowler Centre the wind and rain had eased off, perhaps just in time for the Cuba Street partygoers heading out to meet the witches turning for home.

Domestic magic was very much the theme for the next item, Paul Dukas’ The Sorcerer’s Apprentice. The opening theme sounded like there were cobwebs in the corners and the apprentice was taking an extended break. The pace picks up as the boy gets to work and when the bassoon and glockenspiel play off each other, you know the magic has been instilled into the broom. Made famous by Disney’s Fantasia, the music is terrifically visual for anyone who knows the film. For anyone without the mental images, the orchestra did a fine job of portraying the mayhem and panic as the broom gets out of control.

A more powerful magician is at work in Igor Stravinsky’s Petrushka, bringing puppets to life. The innovation in Stravinsky’s composition is evident from the start. Early sounds of dissonance are later fully realised as the composer uses two unrelated keys to show the dual natures of a puppet who has been made to live. The flutes and trumpets combined well to lead us into the seduction of the Ballerina. The orchestra responded to the direction of conductor André de Ridder (announced as the new NZSO music director from 2027) with nicely balanced accents and intensity conveying action, colour, and all the drama of Petrushka’s life and death.

Docking half a star for the ending! Look, I’m a sucker for the type of unresolved conclusion that makes most people angrily shake their fist at the sky. Exhibit A: La La Land – perfect movie, no notes. Exhibit B: Inception – it’s the way it had to be. I love when you invest hours of your time and become emotionally attached to characters only to find that, like in life, the ending is not tied up in a pretty little bow like you’d hoped for. But Riviera Revenge? That cut deep, and if you can’t tell, I’m slightly mad about it.

Up until the final three minutes, this film was everything I had hoped for in a French summer rom-com. Scandal, slapstick, scenery, and, most importantly, strong female characters who take no slack from men. We love a stylish, self-assured queen in her seventies. What more could you ask for?

Written and directed by Ivan Calbérac, Riviera Revenge follows the story of Annie (Sabine Azéma) and François Marsault (André Dussollier), a former military general. After being happily married for 50 years, François discovers 40-year-old letters in his attic revealing his wife’s torrid affair with their Niçoise friend Boris Pelleray (Thierry Lhermitte). Resolved to avenge the deed to the dismay of his wife and their three adult children, he goes hunting for the culprit on the Côte-d’Azur.

With no shortage of scenic shots and saturated in the essence of a summer spent along the European Riviera, Philippe Guilbert’s cinematography alone would have won me over in the cold depths of our New Zealand winter. Add perfectly timed editing from Reynald Bertrand, a suitably stylish French wardrobe from costume designer Rebecca Renault, and expertly fashioned sub-plots stitched into the story, and you’ve concocted the perfect recipe for a rom-com à la francaise. Not to mention the kind of finely tuned, subtle acting you get only from veteran performers at the peak of their power.

Light-hearted, cheeky, and suitably silly with just the right amount of sass and sauce, saunter to Riviera Revenge in cinemas, but be warned: N’avoue jamais or never admit – the original title – is perhaps a better indicator of what to expect!

This is my first encounter with the Prefab Hall venue, and I am impressed. The glass and cathedral-grain plywood interior is an ideal backdrop for this intimate chamber music performance. There is minimal but effective stage dressing consisting of suitcases, sheet music, and candles. In the front row, we are within touching distance of the cellists.

The production includes many thoughtful touches. The programme notes for each piece are written by a different musician, and include their personal musings and emotional responses to the works. Before each musical work, NZSQ violinist Peter Clark reads a poem by a well-known author from Aotearoa. Each poem is cleverly chosen to resonate with the themes of the music. It’s an effective convention; the poems feel almost like palate cleansers between courses of rich food.

We begin stirringly, with the newly formed Antipodes Quartet in their Wellington debut, playing Dmitri Shostakovich’s String Quartet No. 7 in F-sharp minor. Right from violinist Mana Waiariki’s adroit opening the quartet are precisely attuned to each other. This is an emotionally and structurally complex work, which I last saw performed by the internationally renowned Borodin Quartet, yet I was astounded and moved by this rendition.  

Antipodes Quartet follow the Shostakovich with Gao Ping’s A Lingering Echo – homage to Dmitri Shostakovich. We then have a reshuffling of musicians. Antipodes Quartet cellist Lavinnia Rae is joined by two New Zealand String Quartet members and guest violinist Arna Morton for Shostakovich’s String Quartet No. 6 in G major. It’s a tremendous pleasure to see these different combinations of artists working together, especially at such close quarters when the minutiae of their techniques can be appreciated.

All eight musicians return to the stage for the decadent and diabolical final work, Shostakovich’s Two Pieces for String Octet. The octet produces a gloriously balanced sound – each young musician synergistic with their counterpart. Luminary cellist Inbal Megiddo is especially magnificent, drawing overwhelmingly beautiful phrases from her instrument.