The theme of this uplifting TAHI Festival production is exactly what you’d expect from the title – family. More precisely, “lifting the lid on the complexity of family relationships from disastrous to delicious”.

This aim is achieved through four actors (Emma Katene, Daniel Gagau, Ngahiriwa Rauhina, and Melissa Sutherland) performing 13 short extracts from 11 solo works by New Zealand writers. With the help of assorted chairs, a few bits of wardrobe, and a couple of props, they deliver warm, empathetic, poignant, and often laugh-out-loud vignettes of what it means to have whānau.

The playwrights whose work is showcased here are Vela Manusaute, Felix Desmarais, Rob Mokaraka, Jamie McCaskill, Toa Fraser, John Broughton, Emily Duncan, Tom Scott, Melissa Sutherland (doing admirable double duty as playwright and actor), and Nicola Pauling. Each has their own rich way of shining light on the trials of being human through the lens of family.

The lovingly created characters we meet over the hour of the production range from a miracle baby produced from the remaining half of a fallopian tube after several ectopic pregnancies and miscarriages, to an 11-year-old girl with a superhero Samoan mum, a literal and metaphorical Karen and her daughter, a young man revelling in his half-Māori/half-Pākehā ancestry, a family with projectile-vomiting children heading to the beach, and an angry mum whose kids have been removed by CYFS.

Co-directors Kerryn Palmer and Sally Richards have chosen their extracts carefully and well. In addition to being woven together by theme, the pieces flow seamlessly from one to the next with appropriate music, well-applied projection onto the back wall of the theatre, sensitive lighting, and some cool dance moves from the actors who occasionally interact.

The mark of a successful theatre production is that you’re left wanting more. I could have happily watched this group of talented actors telling their uniquely Kiwi stories with genuine pathos and humour well into the night.

While a fitting farewell to Daniel Craig’s James Bond, much of No Time to Die feels like a wash, rinse, repeat exercise. A committed and likeable ensemble cast and vicious action sequences keep it from growing stale, but on a scale of Craig’s Bond films, it winds up somewhere in the middle: not great, not bad, just okay.

A direct sequel to 2015’s Spectre, No Time to Die is the 25^th entry in the James Bond franchise and the fifth to star Craig as the illusive MI6 agent. Bond has settled down with Madeleine Swann (Léa Seydoux) and ditched the secret agent life, until his old friend, CIA agent Felix Leiter (Jeffrey Wright), shows up with a new mission: to rescue a kidnapped scientist and prevent the mysterious Lyutsifer Safin (Rami Malek) from unleashing a deadly nanoscopic weapon on the world. Meanwhile, Bond must play nice with Nomi (Lashana Lynch), the new 007. 

Unlike the previous actors who have taken up the mantle, Craig’s Bond films are interconnected. It would seem the stage has been set for a grand finale, but instead, No Time to Die feels like a check list, a movie attempting to wrap up 15 years of story arcs and present an entertaining one-off adventure. Even with its 164-minute runtime, it’s too much to contain.

Given the wealth of characters crammed into this tale, it’s no surprise that some fall flat while others soar. Craig delivers a performance on par with his others, though he doesn’t quite tap into the raw energy and emotional gravitas found in Casino Royale and Skyfall. Of the new additions, Ana de Armas shines brightest as Paloma, a fresh-faced CIA agent with a whole lot of ambition and very little training, though I wish her screentime extended past a single sequence. Sadly, Malek’s Safin feels like every Bond villain mashed into one, and while Nomi’s presence creates an interesting dilemma for Bond, she isn’t given the space to develop as an individual.

No Time to Die feels plot-heavy where it should have felt emotionally driven. As the cherry on top of Craig’s run, it plays well. On its own, it doesn’t stand toe to toe with the best of the series.

Clearly drawing heavily on cult sci-fi TV shows like Star Trek and Babylon 5, Peregrine V starts with a smart projected introduction to the improvised tale of a rag-tag spaceship crew that we are about to see created.

The all-knowing computer then randomly assigns six actors (Gabrielle Raz-Liebman, Jerome Cousins, Malcolm Morrison, Brendon Bennetts, Emma Maguire, and Liz Butler) their characters. They are of varying species with an expected collection of roles on the ship ranging from the shapeshifting captain and human engineer to the mutant therapist and AI entertainer. Also along for the ride are an avian diplomat and an amphibian mercenary. The actors gamefully embrace these characters, give them names, and set the audience and themselves off on a journey of discovery.

An added element of character is the beautifully animated talking computer (operated by director Jonathan Briden) that always sits on the wall behind the actors and offers droll commentary, jokes, and interaction with the characters, even condemning one of them to death with a coldness reminiscent of HAL in 2001: A Space Odyssey.

The story that unfolds is more existential than the typical storylines of the TV series this show pays homage to. Some characters are not who they appear to be, causing significant angst among the crew, much of which neatly unfolds in the therapist’s office. My favourite line of the night is “I smell emotions!” yelled by the therapist just before he bounds on stage to analyse another tortured crewmate.

Costuming plays a significant part and each actor selects an appropriate outfit, which some alter to good effect during the course of the narrative to reflect their story arcs. Sound effects (Briden again) and lighting (Bethany Miller) are also used well to give context to what the actors are doing and mark the end of short scenes.

All involved with this NZ Improv Festival show obviously enjoy the sci-fi genre and its tropes and create an irrepressibly fun hour of nerdy entertainment.

All power to BATS for pushing ahead with the NZ Improv Festival under COVID Alert Level 2 and making it work. Suitably spooky music from the keyboard of Matt Carroll greeted the masked-up audience as they entered the Random Stage and found their physically distanced seats for this one-off supernatural story.

Those familiar with The X-Files would have immediately recognised the premise of this show with intrepid Agents Smoulder and Gully of the Federal Bureau of Improvisation investigating the unusual disappearance of an unnamed woman who has been drawn into a desert canyon near Cactustown, Arizona by mysterious voices from the past.

Even though some of them are too young to have seen the original TV show, the ensemble cast of Aaron Douglas, Christine Brooks, Ben Jardine, Liz Butler, Trubie Dylan-Smith, Laura Irish, and Daniel Allan cleverly weave a tale worthy of the X-Files scriptwriters using the scant offering of a generic outdoor location from an audience member.

Utilising their enviable physical theatre and characterisation skills, we’re soon introduced to hapless white-trash couple Clarice and Chuck and their parents, the local sheriff and his wannabe deputy Cletis, an 86-year-old librarian, and The Town Psychic. Collectively, they help the agents solve the mystery of the Lost Girls who disappeared on a Hanging Rock-style picnic in 1903 and have now somehow been transformed into a drooling monster from an unearthly, triangle-based realm, accessed through Cactus No. 3, that just wants a family. They even manage to exploit the underlying sexual tension between Mulder and Scully that so titillated X-Files audiences in the 1990s.

The cast are supported by appropriate lighting changes and blackouts that occasionally cut them off or leave them hanging to hilarious effect and Carroll’s background music that neatly highlights the tense finale. Some basic costuming and four red blocks provide just enough setting.

The great joy of improv is that you never see the same show twice and as a one-off festival performance, The I-Files delivered in spades.

Whether you’re a seasoned veteran of the Dungeons & Dragons lore or a newbie looking to find your way in the mystical realms of world building, the Dungeons & Comedians troupe, all the way from Christchurch, is possibly one of the funnest ways to approach the famous fantasy role-playing game. Taking a game already inherently rooted in improv and interactive storymaking, Dungeons & Improvisers brings another layer of fantastical performance and personality to Dungeons & Dragons… and improv!

In this NZ Improv Fest show, DM (Dungeon Master Brendon Bennetts) guides three characters chosen at random through a world of fantasy and adventure, comedic mishaps, and (un)lucky dice rolls. As the DM creates a scene, they employ the help of their ‘imps’: six cast members who contort and transform their bodies to form both inanimate objects and living characters for the three protagonists to interact with on their journey. The audience too is called upon to create obstacles, perils, and plot points, bringing the show to life. Tonight, an old wizard in a red coat named Nimbus the Blue (Wiremu Tuhiwai), a sparky rogue called Bella Doone (Amelia Cartwright), and a comical fighter introduced as Gregnog (Tara Swadi) find themselves facing the amphibious frog prince, usurper of the town of Spawn.

The characters are accompanied by Matt Carroll on the keyboard, who expertly and seamlessly provides atmosphere, anticipation, and aesthetic to every scene. Meanwhile Zoe Higgins masterfully lights the show with a myriad of hues and shades depending on the scenario... or flashes of red for dangerous combat scenes! Both the lighting and the tailored soundscape add a sense of heightened reality to the already very real world unfolding on stage.

Perhaps the best part of the show is the pure, unadulterated imagination on display. Already improvisational in nature, the performance qualities of Dungeons & Dragons truly lend themselves seamlessly to an improv stage show. It’s easy to see why Dungeons & Comedians have sold out shows for the last four years!

A celebration of womanhood, Sista, Stanap Strong! explores ni-Vanuatu women’s struggle against sexism and misogyny in conjunction with Oceanian colonialism, slavery, racism, and independence.

Sista, Stanap Strong! is important for its reclamation of language, recounting, remembering, and rising above the horrors of colonialism and slavery. Stories and poems such as The bitterness of sugar cane by Losana Natuman recount the incipience of colonialism and blackbirding, whereas Dirty white by Jane Kanas portrays the lasting effect of 19th century colonialism in the 70s and 80s. Kanas’ story directly outlines the role language plays in colonisation, placing English in direct opposition to Bislama and native languages. Though not a direct act of physical violence, cultural, emotional, and psychological damage persist through modern day.

This anthology spans multiple generations of Vanuatu women’s perspectives, with writings ranging from teenagers to octogenarians. Despite the variation in age and experiences however, the perspective remains relatively unchanged. These women are nurturing and strong, trailblazers and keepers of tradition, culture, and history, and yet almost all of them encounter and are defiant in the face of sexism and misogyny. Whether it be domestic violence as in Is this real love by Roselyn Qwenako Tor or men’s insistence upon female inferiority in Mildred Sope’s recollection of the independence movement. “I was targeted and victimised cruelly... the priority was the boys... no more should my girls feel unequal, their rights and voices drowned by some people”, Telstar Jimmy’s voice proclaims in Their lives matter more. Every piece of writing in this anthology is about perseverance and endurance in the face of oppression.

Aside from its focus on universal feminism and female oppression, Sista, Stanap Stong! also presents the intersectional struggle of Vanuatu women in particular. Most of these voices have not been heard until now; they are empowering, they are strong, they are female, and they call for not only Vanuatu women but women everywhere to endure, overcome, and Stanap Strong!

The title of Vincent O’Sullivan’s latest poetry collection signals a virtual handshake to readers. They probably know each other, so the greeting is in order.

I get the impression that O’Sullivan is philosophically at ease – both with himself and with the world. If he has axes to grind, I’m not hearing them. Instead, we get 80 poems ranging widely in subject matter, and readers may surprise themselves by the number of references they recognise. We get mentions of the Treaty and Te Rauparaha, Toto the dog, Hitchcock’s birds, the Garden of Eden, and pin the tail on the donkey. And that’s not to omit Marie Antoinette’s head and the dignity of Chinese women meticulously preparing to die.

There are poetic treats for linguists, who will nod sympathetically at In defence of the adjectival, those who have committed autobiography may wince at The spook at life writing, and everyone will enjoy Fieldwork with its final line, “No one has ever sprained an ankle in a rabbit hole on a map”.

Things are extra OK with me when O’Sullivan ventures upon a few narrative poems long enough to hold some bold social commentary. The story of Born Again Brightly, being the name I chose describes a millionaire in a doctor’s waiting room, a doctor who operates on “the smaller lesions of wealth, on investment melanoma, on impacted properties, ingrown shares, devalued tumour”. How surgically incisive!

Things aren’t OK with everyone. Epistemology, Standard Five takes a wry look at life’s unfairness: some of us get brains and beauty and others defects and disabilities. “God wants you to be”, insists Sister Gabriel. Our poet is not convinced. The resignation of the final two lines gains extra effect because they rhyme: “Being clangs its door. No second queue. Get a load of this, Being says, ‘Make do, make do’.”

Life’s been more than fair to O’Sullivan: those who get gifted with talent are the luckiest. But, as this collection demonstrates, he does a lot more than “make do”.

If you haven’t heard of Arthur Taylor you’re either young or have been living under a rock. Mind you, he did have 10 aliases, essential kit when you’re a career criminal. 

Arthur tells his life story which is a revolving door in and out of prisons throughout New Zealand. He blames his downward spiral on the Epuni Boys’ Home, where he was sent for wagging at age 11. After that, he spent 38 years in total in jail. He has a lovely, supportive family by all accounts and a big brain (if he does say so himself). 

His language is blunt and of course there is a lot of swearing, so beware if you don’t like foul language. A description of Arthur from a fellow crim: “he’s lower than a sewer, a dirtbag, lard-arse, motor-mouth, mother-...”

Arthur spent a lot of his time on the inside fighting for prisoners’ rights and he studied the law in order to represent himself in court multiple times. One incident he complained about was a detective repeatedly hitting him over the head with a telephone book. He does play the victim a bit which sticks in my craw. After all, he committed a lot of crimes, some serious. He is proud of the fact that during his crimes he never physically hurt anyone but does acknowledge his victims might have suffered PTSD. Really Arthur – you think?

I find his life continuously boring, running from cops then fighting the latest charge from jail. He seemed to revel in annoying people. However, his work on improving conditions for his “brothers and sisters in jail” is admirable. I found his stories about famous inmates, including Graeme Burton and Liam Reid, so interesting that I Googled those criminals to revisit their ghastly crimes.

Arthur Taylor is out (at the time of this review) living the quiet life, and still fighting the good fight for other prisoners. Prison Break is an interesting read on a life that thankfully I’ve never had to participate in. Yet.

Co-author of Unleash Your Superpowers, Rosemary Killip acknowledges those in her professional life who have allowed her to grow, learn, and challenge herself. Every interaction was an opportunity to step up, to shine, or to shrink. In a sense, this sums up the heart of Unleash Your Superpowers.

Exploring the stories of a group of diverse women, authors Killip and Jen Tyson delve into the strategies each of these professional women have navigated, to literally unleash their own unique superpowers. Everyone has them they say, and the more I read, the more I agree. What makes their stories relatable is that I could imagine sitting with each one of them. These are women I work with, we all work with, and I could see elements of their stories that mirrored my own.

A question I found most interesting was, ‘Who are you at work?’ Killip and Tyson challenge you to consider your ‘personal brand’. Do you recognise this person? What are you known for? Does it align with your non-work self? Spotting and navigating opportunities to ‘rebrand’ yourself all contribute to making positive changes. If how you are seen at work is not who you are elsewhere, you can make positive changes to realign yourself. You owe it to yourself to have a fulfilling, happy career. If you don’t invest in your own personal growth, it’s not likely anyone else will either.

This means having an awareness of your surroundings, your body language, how you communicate, and how you respond to others.

Look for an organisation or project that aligns with your interests – discover why you do what you do. If the going gets tough: “Never let a barrier be a barrier, stop if you fall over, pick yourself up and keep going. Sometimes learning hurts,” says Jo Miller, chief executive of Hutt City Council.

Unleash Your Superpowers is a superb book, incredibly easy to read, and filled with some really inspiring takeaways from some pretty insightful women.

Two things strike me about the cover of 21 Hacks to Rock your Midlife. A title like that clearly signals that this is a book for women. Men don’t need to “Release the Past, Dare to Dream and Create [their] Legacy”, do they?

And then there’s the word “hacks”. I’m not going to pretend I didn’t have to check Wikipedia for the new and improved meaning of a word that’s got a history of negative connotations. For the uninitiated, a hack can now mean “any trick, shortcut, skill, or novelty method that increases productivity and efficiency, in all walks of life”. Hmmm.

“Midlife isn’t an age. It’s an experience”, midlife success coach Cat Coluccio assures us. And we get to find how that plays out in seven sections. Awakening and Releasing sound too New Age for me, so I start with Creating Space and its theme of decluttering.

That’s something I could sound as earnest about as Coluccio. “Clutter is not just the stuff on your floor – it’s anything that stands between you and the life you want to be living.” Now that’s a grand statement. If the reader makes it through a series of confronting questions about the state of their desk, wardrobe, or benchtop, they are rewarded with a list of step-by-step actions to take.

Decluttering is hard work – whether we’re talking physical, digital, or mental. Coluccio makes no bones about it, which makes this section alone worth the price of the book.

Ditch the Perfectionism! is also a useful section. It contains well-aimed advice at a philosophy that sounds admirable but is actually a disguise for something less so. Such are the delusions of midlife.

Being 70+, I approached Coluccio’s midlife hacks with scepticism. Would her suggestions come too late to save me from my lifelong accumulation of letters, photos, and diaries?

A hack is supposed to be a shortcut, but there are no shortcuts here. Not Coluccio’s problem – she’s written the book – it’s up to us to take the action.

While its subtitle may read Entrepreneurs Who Broke Big Soda’s Stranglehold on the USA and New Zealand, the book centres around just one protagonist: Kiwi businessman Glenn Elliott. He is the founder of King of Kiwi, a company that created a line of drinks made with all-natural Kiwifruit pulp.  Described as a ‘daily health hit in a bottle’, Elliott’s goal was to give the consumer a healthy alternative to the sugary offerings that are more well known, such as Coke or Pepsi.

Better For You documents Elliott’s journey as he takes his products (Kiwi-Shot and Kiwi Revivor) and dips his toes into the sometimes-choppy waters of the American drinks market. We get to see his highs and lows as he experiences what it is like doing business in a foreign country. Along the way author Lisa A. Lewis details his progress, offering a shoulder to cry on and a sounding board when things go wrong.

It’s an exhilarating adventure, made even more exciting because of how high the stakes potentially are. Every setback could have easily stopped him in his tracks, ending the entire endeavour.

Elliott makes the perfect David to America’s Goliath, and I found myself cheering him on throughout his adventure. Lewis herself becomes something of Elliott’s sidekick, and I could tell that they had great chemistry and worked well together.

My only gripe is with the photos that Lewis includes halfway through the story. None of them have the usual descriptors at the bottom that let people know what’s happening. As a journalist (sometimes photographer) this is a big no-no as it risks confusing the reader.

Apart from this one little foible, the book is fantastic and I couldn’t put it down until I got to the final chapter. It’s clear, it’s fun, and it’s an easy read. I would recommend Better For You for anyone thinking about starting up their own business who wants to know what they might be in for.

As the front cover of his latest biography says, this is not a political memoir. Instead, it’s a reflection on who Simon Bridges is as a person, about his life as a father, husband, and politician. His new book National Identity covers a wide range of topics, delving into the minutiae of what makes him tick and why he is the way he is.

For those that don’t know who I am talking about, let me give you the abridged version. Simon Bridges was born in 1976 in Auckland and started out as a lawyer before deciding to turn to politics. He eventually became head of the National Party in 2018 before losing the leadership two years later.

National Identity is essentially a warts and all look at his views on things like the ‘haves and have nots’, the role of social media in politics, the growing class system developing in our society, and more.   

One of my favourite parts of the book is when he’s describing his nationality and how he views his bi-racial ethnicity (Ngāti Maniapoto iwi and English descent), calling himself a Māori, English Kiwi. Even though he loves the UK, in his own words, his ‘Vogel’s is buttered here’ (in New Zealand).

While there’s no way to judge a person based on one title, his writing gives me a ‘good bloke’ kind of vibe. The language is simple and down-to-earth. It’s not dumbed down at all but easy enough to read that anyone can just pick it up and go.

While you might peg a former National leader as wholly conservative, Bridges’ views seem to be more progressive than I first thought. In fact, in my opinion, it would be a huge mistake to give National Identity a miss based on political leanings alone. While it won’t convert you to the other side of the political spectrum if you’re not there already, it may surprise you and at least provide an insight into how political leaders think.

Rosy Fenwicke is a full-time author who wrote the Euphemia Sage Chronicles, Death Actually, and the fast-paced Cold Wallet. This novel taught me things about Bitcoin I didn’t know or think I needed to. It was interesting to learn more, as it may be the currency of the future. There are hot wallets too in this thriller about a young woman’s life that’s thrown into chaos when she inherits a cryptocurrency company. Fun fact about Bitcoin from the book: “The electricity to run the programmes costs a fortune. Did you know computers and the energy needed to run them contributes more to CO2 emissions than all the air travel in the world?” Wow. 

The story is told by the central character Jess, and Henry, her nemesis. Jess is a doctor and Henry is her husband’s business partner who is jealous of her and the hold she has over her husband Andrew. They share chapters to tell the tale of greed and trying to out-fox each other. I loved this sentence: “He was suffering from an advanced case of destitution.” No wallet for him then.

Set in Auckland, it’s easy to imagine the Viaduct apartment and glamorous lifestyle they enjoy. The Fiji honeymoon sounded even more exotic as I read this book in lockdown. It was also a coincidence while I was reading it that some cryptocurrency folk violated lockdown in Auckland!

There are anti-heroes, erotica, baddies, death, and a great pace and rhythm that kept me wondering, what next? Who should Jess trust – the police, her lawyer, the Uber driver who mysteriously turns up whenever required? There were instances of gruesome violence and bad things happening to people, including amputations (just a warning).

I did not expect Cold Wallet to end the way it did, which was great. It was full of twists and I needed to know what was going to happen, which kept me on edge. And there are unanswered questions too, so a good tale told.

Walking into BATS Theatre for my first NZ Improv Festival outing, I’m thrilled to be greeted by a staff member with a bright orange sticker. I’m told I can wear it if I want to participate in the show, which I think is a brilliant innovation. Some people are put off improv simply because they don’t want to be singled out. As a Leo, I of course take the sticker and stick it straight on my forehead.

Agatha Christine (Christine Brooks) welcomes us to the Random Stage and sets the scene for Murder on a Boat, where a cast of 10+ scramble to solve the whodunnit aboard the SS Maria Williams. As this is improv, who plays who and who murders who is decided in real-time over one hour of spontaneity and rapid-fire thinking.

Although there are instances of players talking over each other and misinterpreting offers, I thoroughly enjoy Murder on a Boat from start to end. Tightening it up a tad would simply help the great premise and enthusiast cast shine even brighter.

Standout members include Matt Powell, whose detective Sebastian Le Crabbe perhaps isn’t as ready to hand over the reins as he first thought; Marea Colombo, whose charisma as the overworked Beverly nearly steals the show; and Tara Swadi, whose Duchess Fox is killed off far too early. This doesn’t count as a spoiler because it’ll be a different murder victim next time!

Moments of brilliance have me cackling into my mask. One such is a passionate encounter between star-crossed lovers Beverly and the Captain (Daniel Allan), whose impromptu shanty To Sea, ably accompanied by Matt Hutton on keys, is another favourite scene of mine. When there’s a danger of boring ol’ misogyny creeping in, Laura Irish flips the narrative as the ship’s singer Maxine.

As Murder on a Boat comes to a close, I look at my friend and declare it to be “really, really, really good”. I’d love to see it again.

New Zealand’s loudest mime takes the stage at Circa Theatre to deliver school holiday fun for kids aged four to 94. This short, snappy, silly show starts with Fergus Aitken’s beloved Mr Fungus enjoying a coffee at home before a radio ad reminds him he’s got to get to Circa… we, the audience, are waiting!

The first half of Mr Fungus sees him riding the bus and battling the elements to make it to the theatre on time and the second is the show itself, where Mr Fungus bursts through the curtain of a light-up box that serves as a stage on the stage (meta set design by Aitken himself).

This structure is easy to follow for the kids. Even with very little dialogue they seem to keep their place and increasingly become more engaged, yelling suggestions like “check your suitcase!” or “the other banana!” or “I don’t know who that cat is!” or “Poppa, that’s where Cinderella was born!” Kids say the darndest things.

Though this isn’t an interactive or improv show so to speak, Mr Fungus responds beautifully to the littlies, giving them their moment in the sun while teasing them just a tad before driving the action forward. It’s clear how much the children love the show, especially when it comes to the addition of colourful props like the flying, farting balloons that make up the spectacular finale.

As a grownup (legally speaking), I’d love to see Aitken ham it up a bit more when things go wrong. For instance, when a juggling ball or a banana is dropped, a slapstick slip gag would satisfy that diabolical desire for disaster that kids have but that I don’t because adults are much more sophisticated than that…

What strikes me the most is Aitken’s gift for physical comedy. The way he embodies multiple characters with a simple gesture or makes his body appear weightless while fighting Wellington’s driving horizontal rain and gale-force winds (highly effective sound design by Aitken and director Fraser Hooper) is simply astonishing. Bravo!

Annette is, in equal measure, one of the most original, baffling, and alienating films I’ll see this year. A surreal experience that reflects the sensibilities of its creators, it builds frustration without relief, yet I can never quite bring myself to look away.

The English-language debut of French filmmaker Leos Carax, Annette is an almost dialogue-free sung-through musical with story and songs by Avant-Garde art-pop duo Sparks. Adam Driver stars as comedian Henry McHenry, who falls madly in love with Ann Defrasnoux, an opera singer portrayed by Marion Cotillard. The birth of their daughter Annette reveals cracks in their star-powered romance, and the plot thickens further when it is discovered that Annette is a prodigy vocalist herself.

Carax is not remotely interested in the real, which we are told from the opening number, a meta tune in which Sparks themselves join a chorus and our lead actors in asking, “so may we start?” This teases a bubblegum musical that never arrives, as once we truly enter, things only fall deeper and deeper into the abyss.

It’s certainly brave to leave us with a lead character this vain, repugnant, and egotistical. Henry’s comedy act relies on shocking his audience, and it seems his presence in Annette is designed to have the same effect on us. This could have been effective had he been portrayed by a lesser-known actor, but here we have Driver – the dude from Star Wars – and it confuses the portrait Carax is trying to paint. 

Carax’s audacious visual inventiveness constantly tests the audience; sometimes they suck me in, other times they push me away. Henry and Ann’s waltz atop their yacht, backed by a rear-projected storm, is mesmerising, while the cartoonish ‘Showbizz News’ segments boast greenscreen effects so intentionally terrible they would be better suited to a Saturday Night Live sketch.

Every frame and story beat of Annette demands dissection, and it is destined to become the subject of cult fascination. It will always feel somewhat empty and muddled, but never will it lose its sense of wonder and weirdness.

The cleverly named Maximum Benefit is Max Porozny and Ben Jardine, who specialise in long-form improv. Taking a few suggestions from one audience member – in this case, accidentally, me – the duo perform an entirely made-up story from start to finish over one hour of laughter and joy.

Our Level 2 masked-up affair starts with the two asking what we wanted to be when we grew up. I shouted “astronaut”, but when asked to go into more detail about my failed career plight, panicked and changed my answer to popstar. I also managed to outline my first ‘gig’ standing on a chair at Valentines Buffet Restaurant at the age of 11.

And so began a show about a jazz musician named Sanders Valentine, an agent with a dubious accent (or four), a budding young busker-hating police officer on his first day on the force, a kindly burger-maker, and perhaps most importantly, taco night at Mum’s place.

The great thing about reviewing improv is that I can’t spoil the show – because no two shows are ever the same. Unless you were in the audience with me, you will never see what I saw, which was two alarmingly calm and collected actors ready for whatever the night threw at them. Their quick wit, intellect, craftsmanship, and chemistry served as catcher’s gloves when a ball was dropped. 

While there were a few hiccups, most were minor and quickly saved by these proficient players. The only real confusion for me was when they switched established characters – for instance when Porozny suddenly became Sanders after Jardine had played him for most of the show. Just a few solid anchors, like a couple of main characters that don’t change, would help the audience to keep their place amongst the sea of silliness, fun, and chaos.

Overall, this was a supremely entertaining show that I’d happily watch again and again. Just ignore me when I yell about astronauts next time.

First-time director Braden Lister has made a good fist of his debut production, despite COVID disruptions and a last-minute pack-in at the Gryphon Theatre, which is not New Players Theatre Company’s usual venue.

In Murder on the Menu, friends Skye (Ruby Braam) and Sophia (Sarah Upston) buy a dilapidated theatre which soon reveals itself to be full of the ghosts of Shakespearean characters who roam the auditorium declaiming lines from their famous plays. ‘Tights Boy’ Romeo (Pippa Liley) is the first to appear, followed in quick succession by Hamlet (Lyndon Jones) forever searching for drama queen Ophelia (Danica Frentz), a vain Juliet (Liv Calder), and the haggis-obsessed Macbeths (Euan Lucie-Smith and Yvonne Fisher). Skye and Sophia need to rid themselves of these pesky ghouls to be able to open a café, but how do you kill a fictional character who is already dead?

While the script is not high on intellectual challenge, Shakespeare fans will enjoy the revisioning of the most famous of his characters and the meta theatre jokes that pepper it. Those not so familiar with the theatre lexicon will enjoy the lively comedy that arises out of the murderous intentions of two people trying to off a group of ghosts.

The cast playing the Shakespearean characters all inhabit them with energy and relish, clearly enjoying the expanded dialogue and larger-than-life histrionics as they interact with each other. Lucie-Smith gives the performance of the night as Macbeth, revelling in his brash bonhomie, healthy appetite, and predilection for fart jokes. Braam and Upston are the glue that holds the narrative together and deliver that function with verve and good chemistry.

The lighting design by Jonassen Productions deserves special mention for its appropriateness and attention to detail. In one lovely moment, three lights that are seemingly just props unexpectedly come to life to great effect.

Congratulations to the whole team at New Players for a fun night of theatre that brings a splash of joy in these COVID-limited times.

Hands up how many people think of cricket and instantly start thinking of poetry. I imagine not that many, since they’re not things that someone would normally associate with each other, but surprisingly the two subjects have had a loving relationship since the 18th century. 

While I have never been a fan of poetry or the sport, I have to admit to finding myself smiling more than once at some of Mark Pirie’s work. Light-hearted, funny, and sometimes thought-provoking, Slips gives people a glimpse into the funny side of cricket, which I always felt took itself a little too seriously.

This collection of poems has obviously been a labour of love for the writer, and his passion shines through with each verse. What could have been just poetry is instead turned into a sort of deep dive into the game’s rich history and shows us why it has the legion of fans that it does.

From toasts to players of yesteryear to the sometimes ridiculous ways that people have been dismissed from games, nothing is out of bounds (so to speak), and Pirie happily pokes fun while being respectful. As a result, Slips: Cricket Poems comes off as both charming and genuinely entertaining.

However, as wonderful as it is, a major downside is that unless you absolutely love cricket, a lot of that charm and humour will be lost on you. The book is clearly aimed at the cricket-mad fans and poets out there, and I’m afraid that anyone else will feel left out in the cold.

Apart from this one quibble, at the end of the day, if you love cricket and love poetry, this is definitely the book for you. While it won’t be for everyone, Slips: Cricket Poems is a wonderful read that I think would tickle many people’s funny bones if they gave it a chance.

The title of this hefty volume is a metaphor for construction – literary construction. These 36 stories – half a dozen each by our most celebrated writers – are chosen to illustrate individual range and depth.

Perhaps Katherine Mansfield and Frank Sargeson could be considered parents of the New Zealand short story. Not that they’d have got on. There was Mansfield living on the other side of the world, mixing with the likes of Virginia Woolf (who admitted to envying her rival’s work) and initiating a love affair with her publisher – and Sargeson, hanging out in a disreputable none-too-clean bach on Auckland’s North Shore keeping company with down-and-outs and sheltering Janet Frame.

What they had in common is that both were sharp observers of the New Zealand society of their times, albeit from different sides of the world. We readers get to sample their rich and varied progeny.

I was brought up to admire Mansfield’s Her First Ball, but a rereading of Daughters of the Late Colonel had me delighting even more in the black comedy dripping from such a sophisticated pen. Spinsters Josephine and Constantia are mourning the recent death of their fierce father, and their post-funeral actions and reactions, a mixture of trepidation and inadvertent giggles, are hilarious. It’s Mansfield at her brilliant best.

At 50 pages, is her Prelude too long to be a short story? Sargeson composed his seminal 500-word Conversations with my Uncle in one sitting, and its subtle social commentary typifies future tales. My other favourite, The Hole that Jack Dug, is a likeable portrait of the – sometimes unfathomable – indefatigability of the New Zealand male when working on a practical task. Sargeson’s appeal is irresistible, originating from his preoccupation with, and protection of, the underdog.

I pay tribute also to the other four writers represented: Maurice Duggan, Janet Frame, Patricia Grace, and Owen Marshall, whose stories contribute equally to the range and quality of the New Zealand short story.