Doing a show about domestic violence is risky. It has the potential to be heavy-handed, alienating, or worse, ridiculous. Haunting memories of Once Were Warriors, The Musical come flooding back (yes, that happened and yes, they sang “Cook me some eggs”).
I was relieved and grateful, then, that Tikapa Productions have approached this society-wide epidemic with the thoughtfulness and care it needs.
Not in our neighbourhood Photo: Facebook
Not in Our Neighbourhood at BATS Theatre is playwright and director Jamie McCaskill’s response to his time spent as a performance advocate with Te Whāriki Manawahine O Hauraki (Hauraki Women’s Refuge). The show is a truthful look at domestic violence and its far reaching effects. Kali Kopae’s solo performance is totally engrossing.
She deftly navigates her way between the diverse characters, presenting us with three dimensional, real people. Rather than jump back and forth - “now I’m this person, oh look, now I’m this person!” – Kopae gives each character space to breathe, to come alive.
Moments of comedy enhance the honesty and highlight the reality, smashing the outdated perception of the “battered woman”. On opening night I was privileged to share the experience with the women who work for Te Whāriki Manawahine O Hauraki. Their reactions to the piece as it was happening helped to reveal the catharsis that the play affords.
Not in Our Neighbourhood opened the new Ahi Kaa Festival which coincides with Matariki.
Over at another Ahi Kaa venue, Circa Theatre, Kerryn Palmer revives Ralph McCubbin Howell’s 2014 Young and Hungry Festival offering, Second Afterlife. The show follows Dan (Michael Hebenton), who has spent most of his high school years going through various fads and the social media sites that go along with them (think emo phase = Bebo). The hero’s journey begins after having spent more time documenting a party than actually participating in it, Dan decides to quit Facebook. Like it’s that easy.
Second afterlife Photo: Facebook
I have to admit, I was somewhat cynical about why it was being re-mounted, but Palmer addresses this by challenging her cast and crew to take more responsibility and ownership than the framework of the Festival necessarily allowed for. She has also taken this opportunity to employ an Assistant Director (Ryan Knighton), thereby further fostering the spirit of mentorship and allowing a new creative voice to be added to the work.
I was delighted to see that sound designer and operator Philip Jones has developed his omnipresent role to the point that (IMO) he should have been credited as a performer. His stoic surveying of the actors and audience alike, as well as some expertly timed voice-of-god interjections, had the audience in fits of hysterics that threatened to hijack the action on stage.
This is one of the most invigorating aspects of the show; McCubbin Howell has skilfully created such a clear, intentional narrative that the performers can go rogue (Michael Trigg delivers some deliciously absurd segues between scenes) without it seeming contrived, nor overshadowing the main story arc.
The challenge of presenting a journey through space-time, with two physical spaces existing simultaneously on such a small stage is tackled innovatively; rather than attempting to ignore potential problems, the directors and designer (Anna Robinson) have chosen to highlight them and incorporate them into the physical comedy.
Second Afterlife allows us to revel in our collective recognition of #shame and assure us that we don’t need to beat ourselves up, but rather embrace the cringe, clock missed opportunities and be excellent to each other.
Jeremy Elwood in success Photo: Unknown
Reflecting on Stephen Sinclair’s Success after having written the above, I wonder if this might have been the message he was trying to send. The fact that I am struggling to pin down what I think the show wanted me to come away with, speaks to a lack of clarity of intent that reduces the play to a misogynist rant.
The publicity material claims that the show is about the complexities of the relationships between three comedians, one of whom has become famous in the States, while the other two stagnate in their obscurity. However, when an accusation of rape is the main plot device, it’s difficult to see past the enormity of the issue.
I came back into the theatre after intermission hoping that Sinclair was setting up to use his position of privilege to dissect the behaviours that enable rape. I was instead confronted with the usual despicable and harmful attitude that permeates our culture and none of the reflection and introspection that it so desperately warrants. The only woman in the play is a prostitute. Derek’s “FB” is portrayed (via one-sided phone conversations) as being demanding and emasculating. At one point Carl gets on his phone to “ask his manager to find out if she (the woman laying the complaint) has done this kind of thing before.”
From a dramaturgical point of view, there was no reason that rape had to be brought up at all; Success treats the potential of perpetrating rape as an accident, or a lapse in judgement. The characters are supposed to be fallible to the point of being unlikeable, but again – to what end? Carl (Jeremy Elwood) spends most of the show drunk and high, abusing his friends for being jealous of his success and never being brave enough to try to make it themselves.
Stephen Papps’ Jules (who is jealous) enjoys that Carl is finally experiencing the consequences of his actions, in so much as his career is likely ruined, while Derek (John Glass) plays the mediator. Carl’s downfall could have been anything. But Sinclair chose rape and then chose to not to engage with the issue.
The insensitivity strays into a blatant disrespect for the audience: there were no trigger warnings on any of the publicity material, so I’m left assuming that Sinclair thought this was a clever plot twist? “They’ll never see it coming, LOL”. Well, joke’s on me, I guess?
You can hear more from Sherilee Kahui in On The Dial