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.

I haven’t read the book, but I can say with certainty that those who have will very likely not be pleased with this liberal adaptation of Emily Brontë’s groundbreaking novel Wuthering Heights. Smut-centric BookTok, however, will go absolutely feral.

A tale of lust and longing, madness and macabre, “Wuthering Heights” captures the storm of passion that ricochets between the somewhat-of-status Catherine Earnshaw (Margot Robbie) and servant-of-sorts Heathcliff (Jacob Elordi). From brooding glances to unspoken yearning, roiling anger to frenzied passion, bottomless despair to utter depravity, this film is truly a romance of epic proportions played fervently and intensely by its leads.

For an idea of what might await the viewer, one must only look at the poster: the clinch pose familiar from bodice-ripper books signals explicit passion and historical spectacle. Director, writer, and producer Emerald Fennell’s adaptation is designed to be as shocking to today’s audiences as Brontë’s would have been in the 1800s; it aims to disturb, disgust, and arouse.

Suzie Davies’ production design dances equally between two worlds: one decadent and hedonistic, the other stark and severe. It’s rich in symbolism and verging on surrealist, with not-so-subtle visual cues reflecting the inner turmoil of the characters. It’s certainly not afraid to depart from historical accuracy. Composer Anthony Willis crafts a soundtrack equally anachronistic, but no less fitting. Filmed on the desolate and melancholic moors the tale is famous for, Linus Sandgren’s cinematography is a visual feast that hungrily devours Catherine and Heathcliff’s insatiable appetites.

However, by leaning into the carnality and romantic aspects of the story, Fennell’s adaptation compromises what makes Brontë’s so great. The novel is not a romance, perversion is not sought, what Catherine and Heathcliff share is not the kind of love one yearns for. Fennell’s “Wuthering Heights” – despite being much more explicit in a sense – will never reach the depravity of the original. Nor will it ever achieve the depth that made Brontë’s tale groundbreaking.

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.

If you want to be stressed for two hours and 29 minutes then step right up for Marty Supreme, director Josh Safdie’s new film starring Timothée Chalamet that feels like watching the final moments of a heated sports match the whole time.

An American sports dramedy, Marty Supreme smashes onto the screen in a rapid, topspin shot that lands viewers right into the thick of it. Marty Mauser (Chalamet) is on the up and up, or so he says. He’s America’s current ping pong star, or at least he will be when he wins the British table tennis open in a few days’ time. Wily, scrappy, angry, delusional, cocky, arrogant, and with a dream that no one respects but he doggedly believes in, Marty goes to Hell and back again in the pursuit of greatness – never mind the chaos he leaves in his wake to get there.

With camera movements that travel at warp speed and music sequences that change faster than a ping pong ball swaps courts, Marty Supreme is designed to keep you on the edge of your seat and gasping for breath. Cinematographer Darius Khondji employs a handheld style and tilted angles to keep viewers unsettled while the distinct grain and rich filter – paired with a meticulously crafted period aesthetic by designer Jack Fisk – unmistakably roots the story in the 1950s. Meanwhile, editors Ronald Bronstein and Safdie keep the tension high with the quickest cuts in the west. Composer Daniel Lopatin (aka Oneohtrix Point Never) crafts a score that captures both the feeling of the time and the seesawing story with a soundtrack comprising original music and 50s hits. Sound is constant; with never a moment of silence and continuously changing music, viewers have no time to catch their breath. Always building in momentum, the score captures Marty’s mental unravelling as imminent chaos closes in and his life becomes increasingly frenetic.

As someone who isn’t the biggest Chalamet fan, I must give him credit where it is due. With mile-a-minute dialogue and a complex, high-strung character, he makes every action seem intentional yet unpredictable. Gwyneth Paltrow and Odessa A’zion also deserve praise in their supporting roles. As for Bronstein and Safdie’s script – game, set, match.