After seeing around 30 shows in the NZ Fringe Festival, I have to say that The Brave is one of the best things to come out of the NZ theatre scene in ages. It's a simultaneously hilarious and moving interrogation of what masculinity means in contemporary Aotearoa that is accessible and thoroughly entertaining.
A moment from the play that has stuck with me over the last little while is a physical duet about a boy and his heart, which contrasted Andy Sani’s stoic storytelling with cheeky interjections by Scott Cotter. This seamless interweaving of serious, and sometimes heavy, stories with fresh, exuberant physical comedy is where The Brave wins the most. While the show had the potential to slip into cheesiness (beware the dangers of using contemporary pop music to underscore poignant moments), it would deftly move into an all out comic sequence which saved it from being undermined.
The Brave. Photo: Unknown
Running with the theme of important NZ work, the highlight of the Fringe Festival for me was James Nokise’s Rukahu. Nokise’s character Jon bon Fasi welcomes us to the unassuming In Good Company art space, offering some of the finest Hutt Valley wine (cask, obvs) and encouraging us to read about famous Pacific artists from the pile of literature on a table. I had a flick through and thought about that TV show Tribes, where a British dude goes and stays in remote places and has “spiritual” experiences.
Jon bon Fasi takes us through his journey around the world to find the essence of “Pasifika”. It is a slapstick romp, capitalising on stereotypes which, with increasing absurdity, remind bon Fasi of Samoa. About halfway through, the show starts to break down… Nokise is corpsing more (rewarding himself with a swig of liquor each time), and the stories become repetitive. Some people begin to look a bit concerned, or disengaged. I start squeezing the arm of my friend and bury my head into her back.
And then he smangs us with some truth and it is glorious.
What is “Pasifika”? Is it a term that the hegemony has made up to palatably and homogenously describe a whole lot of different identities so that white NZ can make sense of it? What is “Pacific art”? What does it look like? I instantly begin to relate from my own perspective: Do I have to speak specifically and explicitly about cultural disenfranchisement to make Māori work? Doesn’t the fact that I am Māori mean that anything I make is inherently coming from that perspective?
At the end of the tirade, the audience is stunned. Nokise kindly relieves us by gently bringing us back with some lols, and most people seem grateful for this. The show ends with good vibes, but we are definitely left with something to think, and argue, about.
At the other end of the spectrum, we have pure entertainment. Thomas Monckton treated Wellington audiences to The Pianist, a fully developed and realised fiasco, as well as Only Bones. The latter is double billed with Chameleon, a collaboration with Gemma Tweedie, and both are works in progress.
I think with Monckton, it’s not so much what the show is about, but more about his virtuosity as a performer. He moves his body in ways that you wouldn’t even think of trying, let alone ever be able to execute. His comic timing is impeccable. He has his audience in fits of laughter and just when you think you know what he’s going to do, he does something so outlandish that you are completely thrown off balance. He is constantly experimenting with, pushing and stretching the forms of clowning, mime and physical theatre, which means there are always surprises for the audience.
Jingles The Musical was hilarious and the ensemble smashed it. The show has a pretty loose narrative based around incorporating advertising jingles form the ‘90’s, but that in itself is funny, because it’s so silly. Jack Buchanan, Carrie Green and Hayley Sproull are not only legitimately talented performers, but they have so much fun riffing off each other that its infectious.
My Accomplice’s Uther Dean’s writing reminds me of a mash up of Haruki Murakami, Chuck Palahnuik and Irvine Welsh. Like reading a compilation by any of these authors, you’re probably going to enjoy some of the monologues that make up Tiny Deaths more than others. You’re also going to enjoy some of the performances more than others. For example, I love watching Freya Daly Sadgrove’s expert deadpan delivery as she recounts a Monday back at work after a romantic encounter at the weekend. Someone else said they preferred Alice May Connolly’s performance, just 'cause they love them some Alice May Connolly.
Personal preferences aside, Dean’s writing is super idiosyncratic. No matter who is performing, to me it seemed like they had the same voice. Likewise, the monologues seemed a bit homogenous in style. Once the actors began to reappear for a second hoon, my attention began to waver. But if you look at each monologue individually, they are all witty, funny, well crafted and cast perfectly. So for me, it’s something in the meter, the rhythm, or the pace that needs changing up.
What’s on:
Tiny Deaths
My Accomplice
Until 2 April, 8:30pm
$18/$20
BATS Theatre, 1 Kent Terrace, Wellington
Grand Opening
Barbarian Productions
29 & 29 March (part of Cuba Dupa)
KOHA
Opera House, Wellington
Two Mortals
Directed by Geoff Pinfield
April 1 – April 18
$25 for under 25s
Circa Theatre
(Heard it was “good”, but might be due to Pinfied’s rep for making sweet shows)
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