Shows

Through live music and storytelling, That Bloody Woman is like nothing I’ve ever seen. Turns out, when you combine classic Aotearoa history with contemporary dirty humour and a punk-rock aesthetic, it works pretty darn well.

Following the life of Kate Sheppard (Frankie Leota), the cast of That Bloody Woman takes us on the whirlwind journey of the New Zealand suffragette movement. Leota is supported by an epic ensemble (Aimée Sullivan, Kate Boyle, Allison Phillips, Jayne Grace, Megan Neill, Chris Gordon, and Angus Dunn), who jump in and out of different characters. Her challenger is none other than politician Richard Seddon (Chris Green), who is best suited to his nickname ‘Dick’.

The band at the back of the stage is the only permanent set, though interestingly, the wings have been removed to reveal backstage. Props, set pieces, and microphones are typically transported by the cast, though occasionally by two stagehands. This choice takes away from the seamlessness of the production somewhat. However, paired with the open backstage, it does make sense for us to see it all.

The lighting (Mike Slater) is colourful, bright, energetic, and absolutely reflective of the energy of the cast. The music (musical direction by Katie Morton, sound design by Patrick Barnes), performed by the live band and sung by different cast members, feels flawless and has the audience completely invested.

Each cast member is full of immense talent in every aspect, but I am most impressed by the ensemble – specifically the five women in their mismatched plaid and badass attitudes. Not only are they hilarious, they repeatedly verbalise my thoughts and feelings whenever Dick Seddon says something misogynistic.

While there are minor technical issues and a couple of questionable artistic choices (I will never find red MAGA – or ‘Make Dick Great Again’ – hats humorous), That Bloody Woman is a wonderful production. With the energy, the music, and the enlightening performances, this show is truly unique and heart-warming.

The Secret Lives of Sixteen-Year-Old Girls follows Lulu (Lola Gonzalez Boddy) and her mother (Sarah Boddy, known simply as Mum) as they navigate the complexities of growing up, and raising a child, in the digital age. Lulu’s relationship with Mum is going through the wringer, while her friendship with her bestie Lucy (Emma Rattenbury) has been rocky since she got with Blue. It all comes to a head when the two girls go to a party, vodka cruisers in hand. 

It sounds like the recipe for a great comedy, and for the most part the play is. But underneath the LOLs and witty one-liners (many of which are delivered flawlessly by Gonzalez Boddy), tension and terror brews. Lucas Neal’s sleek production design eloquently expresses the way social media can dominate our lives. The four screens that loom over the stage are underutilised – I particularly wanted them to show the missed calls and messages from Mum when Lulu misses curfew, matching the hectic sound design (Isaac Rajan) that builds to a climax at this point.

A huge shift occurs after this that echoes how quickly and drastically a whole world can change. It’s confronting but there is so much support offered to the audience, and the actors, who have to portray horrific events, do so with respect and dignity.

I’m not a teenager, nor am I a mother. I was able to identify with both Lulu and Mum, cringing at them and with them in turn. Boddy has risen to the challenge of writing flawed but loveable characters that we can all relate to, no matter what life stage we’re in. To see a real-life mother-daughter duo onstage living this dynamic is a real pleasure. Exceptional in their own right, their chemistry is a given. Rattenbury slots right in, elevating the atmosphere with an easy grace and giddy charm.

The Secret Lives of Sixteen-Year-Old Girls makes me want to put my phone down and hug the people I love.

Marrying cabaret and burlesque, Caburlesque is the longest running variety show of its kind in Wellington. For this jam-packed ABBA-themed rendition, I’m thrilled to join such an enthusiastic crowd. So enthusiastic, in fact, a bunch of hecklers regularly howl for “Carol”. The Carollers are handled beautifully by hostess with the mostess Sadie von Scrumptious, whose wicked sense of humour grows on me as she introduces the fABBAlous acts in turn.

The Red Queens kick it all off with a silly and sparkly, funny and fun belly dance to The Winner Takes It All. Felix Goodfellow then treats us to a swipe-right soirée, complete with a sequined eggplant I can’t describe in any more detail here. Taking the stage next – well, taking the pole – is the talented Cardiac Mercenary, who wows the crowd with trick after trick to a metal cover of an ABBA song. The darker notes of this routine feel out of place to me, but hey, they don’t call it a variety show for nothing!

Brightening the vibe is Rosina June with a sweet little karaoke number before Felicity Frockaccino comes in hot (pink) with a wholesome yet fierce lip-sync to Dancing Queen. Anglebert Humpermink brings the big mo and big energy to Does Your Mother Know, while Pip E-Lysaah has me watching her honey-centric act through my fingers. No spoilers here but boy did I screech. Then it’s time for Maree Prebensen and Giada Caluzzi’s dazzling pole routine to Money, Money, Money. Both look so at home on the stage and their chemistry crackles when they perform together. Constance Craving’s act sees her swap out lyrics in Mamma Mia to diss the movie, and while I wholeheartedly disagree (Mamma Mia is the most delightful film and I am willing to fight you on this), it’s one of my favourite performances of the night.

Ellie Kat’s lip-sync to an ABBA medley is the perfect finale. We’re boogieing in our seats, ready to go out into the night to – hopefully – find that blasted Carol.

Brown Crown follows the journey of a young Sāmoan woman, Masina (Falesafune Fa’afia-Maualaivao), as she navigates a contemporary world surrounded by never-ending expectations and legacies to uphold. As Masina finds her place in the world, her story is shown in conjunction with the old legend of Nafanua told to her by her grandmother.

From the moment I enter the space I’m overwhelmed by the calm and intimate atmosphere created. The room is dimly lit, with the main source of light coming from the display of large, hanging photo frames in the centre of the stage, filled with images cast from a projector (set design by Sarai Perenise-Ropeti). Masina’s story is told primarily from her family living room, set in front of the frames which are filled beautifully with family photos. When we travel in time and into the legend of Nafanua, a strong and empowering woman and warrior, the action takes place behind the frames, with dim red light cast on the figures. The use of set and lighting (Matilde Furholm) to guide us through time and location is unique, dynamic, and absolutely exquisite. Including beautifully choreographed fight scenes (depicted through dance), each aspect of the piece plays a key role in the production, and each works to complement the rest.

With the exception of the lead role, Masina, each actor takes on several characters. Actors Fa’afia-Maualaivao, Kasi Valu, John Ulu Va'a, and Ahry Purcell work wonderfully together; I’m amazed at how well they all convey the unique personalities and stories of each of their characters.

Complete with intimate storytelling, modern comedy, and both traditional and contemporary dance, Brown Crown observes the exploration of culture and identity. The story reflects on the weight Pasifika women carry on their shoulders, but is one that resonates with everyone; there’s not a soul in the audience who doesn’t empathise with Masina throughout her journey.

Beautifully written and directed, this story has me covered in goosebumps, on the verge of tears, and hysterical with laughter. What an incredible opening night.

Burt Bacharach: a name synonymous with musical genius. And yet, I know his name, I know so many of his hits, but I had no idea he wrote them! The Look of Love, Ali Harper’s latest show, sees the award-winning singer honour the songwriter responsible for I Say a Little Prayer, What the World Needs Now, and Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head. My friend and I had more than one ‘aha moment’. “Wait, he wrote that one too?”

With twinkling fairy lights, a sleek piano, and a couple of bar stools and mic stands the only adornments, the stage is set for intimacy and glamour. Harper is cloaked in sequins (clothes design by Roz Wilmott-Dalton) that catch the light and accentuate her star power. She is accompanied by resident musical director and pianist Tom McLeod (what chops!) and guitarist Callum Allardice, who brings a distinctly cool, laid-back vibe. Backing them all is the full might of musical director Tom Rainey’s arrangements, recorded with brass, strings, drums, the whole shebang.

The whole shebang is a great way to describe The Look of Love, a show in which everybody gives their all and then some. Harper’s joy is palpable, infectious. There is no way you can watch her perform and not see it radiating from her. There is no way you can leave the theatre without feeling it yourself. Her talent is difficult to put down in words; not only does she nail every note, her voice runs the full gamut of emotion, articulating the love and love lost that Bacharach’s songs so masterfully express.

In between songs, Harper shares Bacharach’s stories and waxes lyrical about her onstage and offstage collaborators, showering them with praise, adoration, and respect. Judging by the thunderous applause and standing ovation, the audience feels exactly the same way about Harper herself.

Go to The Look of Love and let Ali Harper catch you between the moon and Wellington City.

Until tonight, it didn’t feel a lot like Christmas, but these performers truly have “made the Yuletide gay” with their festivities.

Tonight’s host is none other than Judy Virago, whose exceptional costumes are gifts in themselves. Judy keeps the audience entertained between acts with storytelling, flirting, and even a performance of her own; there’s not a moment in the night that we aren’t completely encapsulated in the show.

The first act of the evening is everyone’s favourite Aunty, Pamela Hancock, who brings such beautiful variety with her live singing and storytelling. Her character is so well established, I feel completely invested in Pam’s life. Next, The Everchanging Boy beautifully executes a simple concept through aesthetically satisfying costume and props, and elegant dance. Judy shares that they are the only person she refuses to stand next to on stage, because they’re too beautiful, and now I understand; I simply can’t take my eyes off them. Homer Neurotic is wearing a giant Christmas advent calendar, and immediately I’m taken back to the Christmases of my youth. This time, it’s absolutely adult content. What’s in Homer’s boxes? I can’t wait to find out. With his brilliant combination of funny and sexy, this king is a crowd favourite. Christmas isn’t complete without a Grinch, so Willy SmacknTush is here to deliver. When he performs, he commands the attention of the entire room. Donning a shiny suit and some very big, green hair, Willy retells a story we've all heard, but this time when The Grinch destroys Christmas, we absolutely love it. Once of the most polished drag performers I’ve had the pleasure of seeing, Hariel is the gift that keeps on giving. With her burlesque-style performance, Hariel is cheeky, flirtatious, and wonderfully lewd, while somehow... tasteful? Her lip-sync is flawlessly articulate, and completely mesmerising.

Finishing the show with a festive group act, these performers have me completely invested, and ready to sing Christmas carols. With tinsel, music, and a whole lot of glitter, it finally feels like Christmas.

The Ivy Bar stage is covered in absorbent sheets, and the front row are equipped with waterproof ponchos; if you aren’t prepared to get messy, you’re in the wrong place.

Splosh: to cover one’s self in food in order to achieve sexual stimulation or arousal. As a show title, it’s enough of a content warning. Willy SmacknTush, the “hoist with the moist,” makes a powerful entrance to open the show, and assures us that by the end of it we’ll be “begging for second helpings.”

First up, Robin Yablind treats us to his specialty ‘draglesque’ style, revealing several thoughtfully positioned citrus squeezers; they say he’s sexually confusing, but with fresh orange juice dripping down his chest, I’m not confused at all. Jezebel, head to toe in cow print, bathes in a pool of about 10 litres of milk. Soaking up the audiences’ squeals, this truly messy queen does not hold back. Braiden Butter is an audience favourite, and with his signature combination of comedy and dance, his beet cannot be beat. Harlie Lux, while nailing a lip-sync, invites us to eat an ice cream sundae off her chest. This queen is always a treat, but tonight she takes it to the next level. Amy Thurst, Wellington’s favourite bogan mum, genuinely makes me thursty as she guzzles a couple bottles of red. My shirt may now be wine-stained, but it’s worth it. The Bombay Bombshell’s dedication should be commended, but she has me literally gagging as she makes out with a fish. It does not smell good. It’s fantastic.

The finale act, no matter how many times I see it, is mind-blowing. Ju Majin and Brenda? Areyouintheaudience are back with their human PB&J sandwich, and food porn has never been better.

I often find myself describing drag shows as delicious, mouth-watering, gag-worthy queer magic. In Splosh! A Food P*rn Drag Show, these adjectives became literal, leaving me covered in sparkling wine, and wondering if I’d just experienced my favourite drag show of all time.

It’s Christmas Eve, and Clyde (Jake Brown) is busy swiping left when his toy soldier (Dryw McArthur) comes to life for a night out on the town. Through the seedy streets of Courtenay Place to the vom-filled buckets of Cuba Street they waltz, hitting gay clubs and espresso joints along the way. This 45-minute high-energy queer ballet celebrates the magic of a Christmas spent with chosen family.

The Slutcracker features very little dialogue, with some lines drowned out by Maxwell Apse’s fantastic arrangement of Tchaikovsky’s original The Nutcracker score. Because of this, I crave more precision from some of the cast. Brigid Costello’s slick yet simplified choreography allows for the fact that not everyone onstage is a professional ballet dancer. Not all the performances are exceptional when it comes to dance alone, which would be a drawback if The Slutcracker was just a ballet – but it’s so much more than that. It’s joyful, sincere storytelling brought to life by passionate performers who put their all into elevating queer voices.

Brown gives 110 percent, delivering frenzied footwork with a Cheshire cat grin planted ear to ear. He’s an immensely loveable protagonist. As his boy toy for the eve, McArthur cuts a striking figure with graceful leaps and pirouettes that make me wonder if he has a dance background. Andrew Paterson takes sass to the max with a tap dance drag routine for the ages. With stellar facials and electric energy throughout, Georgia Kellett reigns over Midnight Espresso as the Sugar Plum Fairy, while Felix Crossley-Pritchard makes a fabulously evil Rat King. Shay Tanirau and Phase flesh out the storyline and help the choreography shine in the ensemble.

Accentuated by the soft, colourful hues of Hāmi Hawkins’ lighting design, Lucas Neal’s festive set lets us know what we’re in for from the get-go: a night of love, laughter, and unbridled joy – just what Christmas should be.   

I’ve always been a lover of musicals, so of course I had to attend Ladies in Black. Musical theatre and light-hearted feminism? I’m beyond excited.

Set in 1950s Sydney, the story follows Lisa (Tara Canton) as she starts her first job at a clothing store, Goodes. Through the relatable phenomenon of workplace bonding, Lisa learns about independence, self-growth, and the power of sisterhood.

Directed by Sandy Brewer, the Ladies in Black team should be incredibly proud. Each department has clearly worked together cohesively to create a world, completely transforming the theatre.

The stage crew silhouettes rearrange various black boxes which, paired with a projector screen, effectively represent a unique space. While simplistic, the set design (Brewer) is incredibly effective, complementing both the lighting (Angela Wei), and the performers themselves. The movement of the cast in the space consistently feels natural and smooth (choreography by Clinton Meneses). From simple dresses to glamorous “model gowns”, the costume design (Polly Crone) is very aesthetically pleasing. This, matched with the hair and make-up (Crone, Kate Ghent, Tyler Dentice), works well to establish the time period and enhance each character’s personality.

Each cast member is a unique asset to the story arc and musical numbers. Several performers have multiple characters to play, and it’s entertaining to watch their dispositions change with each role. A stand out for me is Canton. Complementing her effectively awkward and wholesome portrayal of Lisa, Canton’s vocals sound like they were made deliberately for musical theatre.

The highlight of the show is one of the many incredible musical numbers (sound design by Don Blackmore and Steve Morrison, musical direction by Sue Windsor). Brewer, portraying the mother, is accompanied by her daughters (Megan Neill, Carys Tidy, Sophie Russell) to deliver an incredible rendition of He’s a Bastard. The tune itself is hilarious, and paired with the performers’ dead-pan expressions, it’s easily a crowd favourite.

While the script is somewhat outdated, this production of Ladies in Black accentuates the strong feminist themes with pertinent irony, compassion, and straight up fun.

Cinderella (Natasha McAllister) lives on Mount Victoria with her friend Buttons the rat (Simon Leary) and her wicked step siblings, real estate agents Tommy (Kathleen Burns) and Bayley (Jonathan Morgan). Meanwhile in the palace, Prince Ashley of the Blooming Fields (Jack Buchanan) must find a queen. Encouraged by his advisor Dandini (Bronwyn Turei), a real stickler for tradition, Prince Ashley announces a royal ball. After a meet cute with a mysterious stranger over a pumpkin, Cinderella scores a ticket to the ball. But with only rags to wear, and only a rat to accompany her, she’s going to need a little help. Enter Fairy Godmother Rosie Bubble (Gavin Rutherford).

The trouble is, Rosie’s still on her restricted magic licence.

Cinderella is my fourth Circa pantomime and might be my favourite to date, although that’s a hard call to make. I’ve always found the annual affair to be the perfect escape, filled with the kind of joy that makes you forget all your troubles and cares. Rutherford’s Dame is always fantastic, but this time he plays the role with strop and sass, making for a more subdued, supremely entertaining performance that brings balance to the otherwise manically exuberant production. His squabbling with Leary has me in stitches.

So too does Burns’ literal caricature of an evil stepbrother. Her physical comedy is outrageously good, especially when coupled with Morgan’s deliciously nasty, sneering stepsister. Buchanan plays Bloomfield – sorry, I mean the Prince – with infinite amounts of chill, countered by Leary’s boundless energy and stellar comedic timing. McAllister’s portrayal of Cinderella is peppy yet poised, while Turei’s powerhouse vocals bring the house down.

Tying it all together under the witty, watchful eye of Susan Wilson is Michael Nicholas Williams’ masterful musical direction. I’m still humming his arrangements the next day, my grin splitting ear to ear as I remember the fabulous frivolity of the night before.

It’s Friday the 13^th, and not long since the drag community’s favourite holiday, Halloween, so I know I’m in for one seriously spooky show.

Our MC for the evening is stand-up comedian Neil Thornton. With the exception of a few jokes that might not sit quite right with everyone, he keeps the audience entertained between acts with his relevant political jokes and queer-related humour.

Up first and bringing both humour and charm, Selina Simone looks fancy as ever, despite her big fangs and deep, dark wrinkly makeup. Ju Majin, as expected, doesn’t disappoint. Though losing their hat and revealing their exposed brain a little early in their act, this king always knows how to keep the show going. From head to toe, Neon Lux is graceful, creepy, and oh-so-talented; the entire audience is captivated by their goosebumps-inducing performance. With a Mad Hatter themed act, Amy Thurst provides a fantastic example of combining comedy with creepy. She keeps us entertained with an on-brand middle finger in her hat’s direction when it falls of unexpectedly. Mr Marshal Mellow, like a little satanic animation, has the audience desperate for more. I’m immediately on the edge of my seat when Rachel Atlas steps onto the stage carrying three swords. Terrified and mesmerised, I can’t take my eyes off her as she inserts not one, but two solid steel swords down her throat.

For what has to be the highlight of the show, Ju returns to the stage with none other than Brenda? Areyouintheaudience, to show us something that nothing can prepare us for: a human peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I’m certain Wellington’s newest power duo will grace our stages with this act again, so I’ll save the details for you to enjoy with your own eyes.

As promised, Freeky Friday is a drag show like no other. I’m already excited to see what monstrosities these talented and terrifying dragsters come up with for next year’s spooky season.

I would describe myself as a fairly mild Jane Austen fan. I reread Pride and Prejudice once every year or so, I’ve dipped my toes into Sense and Sensibility, and have studied Northanger Abbey. I wondered if I would be able to keep up with Promise & Promiscuity, Penny Ashton’s Jane Austen-inspired show. Luckily, the show is filled to the brim with jokes that will delight fans and novices alike.

Austen herself is listed as a co-author by Ashton. The wonderfully witty script follows a clear Austen blueprint, meaning even those who haven’t dived too deep into Regency-era fiction can follow the bulk of the jokes and references. That said, Ashton kidders up plenty of twists and jokes to keep the story feeling fresh and alive. I particularly enjoy Ashton’s ability to mimic the hilariously formal language of an Austen novel whilst also relishing in the wordplay that delivers a good chunk of the humour in the original texts. Modern references break up the more archaic chunks of dialogue, and always elicit a good laugh from the crowd.

From the get go, it’s clear Ashton is a mind-blowing performer. Despite being a one-woman show, Ashton flits between a whole host of characters with ease. Each character she embodies is a clear caricature for anyone who has read any Austen at all, from the overexcited sister and blustering mother to of course a calm and coolly intelligent heroine. Crowd favourites include a fantastically grim rendition of Pride and Prejudice’s Mr Collins, with Ashton punctuating every other word with a raucous snort that leaves the audience in stitches.

I’m impressed by Ashton’s ability to keep up the energy. She spits out wordy dialogue, sings, dances, and plays with the audience with astounding control, and never once seems out of breath with it all. Promise & Promiscuity is one high-octane Regency romp, perfect for anyone who is looking for a lighthearted laugh.