Esperanza Spalding’s music has been described as “weaving jazz, soul, funk, rock and improvisation – defying categorisation”. For the final night of the Wellington Jazz Festival, we were privileged to have this five-time GRAMMY®-winning vocalist, bassist, and pianist performing here. Joining her were GRAMMY-winning guitarist, bassist, and producer Matthew Stevens, with drummer and producer Eric Doob rounding off this multi-talented trio.

The addition of two incredible dancers from New York City’s Antonio Brown Dance company, Tashae Udo and Kaylim Horrigan, provided another dimension and gave depth to the work. Backing vocals by Udo, Horrigan, Stevens, and Doob enhanced the songs further by adding layers of rich harmonies – complementing Spalding’s at times ethereal vocals.

The complex rhythmic changes of the first track I Want It Now, with Spalding on piano, showcased her extreme vocal dexterity and range. We were in awe of an artist seemingly at the height of her creativity but, as she mentioned, she only turned 40 two days earlier! So, hopefully she still has a long musical and spiritual journey ahead for us to look forward to.

Five songs from Spalding’s complex and multifaceted 2018 album 12 Little Spells followed. The title track 12 Little Spells expounded the virtues of the thoracic spine! Dancing The Animal was a deep-themed, meandering work about the mind. On the very catchy Thang, about hips, Spalding joined the dancers to showcase hers – cue ecstatic applause! 

Starting with a virtuoso four-minute drum solo, I Know You Know was an electric-bass-driven song about ‘a suitor playing coy’. With Others, about ears, was followed by Black Gold, featuring beautiful a capella singing and scatting. The lighting and sound crews deserve a shoutout here for creating a special ambience for the occasion.

For the first encore, the band and dancers (sitting on mats) moved to the very front of the stage for the gorgeous ballad Formwela 4, featuring all five voices and Stevens’ hypnotic acoustic guitar. To finish the concert, and with the audience humming along, was the final song Satisfied.… and from our standing ovation, it was clear that we were!

On as part of the 2024 Wellington Jazz Festival, ORO MĀIA is a night of poetry, music, and performance that showcases te reo Māori translations of the work of African American writer and activist Dr Maya Angelou. Maarire Brunning-Kouka leads a seven-piece band, who are joined on stage by the formidable Maisey Rika, Miriama McDowell, Mere Boynton, Erena Koopu, and Tuakoi Ōhia. These five make their entrance from the back of the theatre in a chorus of unnerving laughter, and make their way slowly to the stage, in full command of the space. It’s a fitting opening to a night that revels in the power, joy, and unflinching beauty of Angelou’s poetry.

The translations have been taken from He kupu nā te māia: He kohinga ruri nā Maya Angelou, a new book from publishers Kotahi Rau Pukapuka that contains a selection of Angelou’s poems, translated into te reo Māori by 34 wāhine from across Aotearoa. The translators are all graduates from Te Panekiretanga o Te Reo (The Institute of Excellence in Māori Language).

As the performers share the poems, at times through dramatised spoken word, at times singing alone or in chorus, they embody all the shifting moods of Angelou’s writing, moving deftly between the wit, defiance, sexiness, and wisdom. They are supported by apt original music from Maarire Brunning-Kouka. The music and styling fittingly speak to the legacy of American jazz and soul traditions but are also undeniably Māori and contemporary.

It’s always a joy to return to Angelou’s writing, and it feels like an immense privilege to do so with a creative team and ensemble of performers who so profoundly understand her voice. Like the poetry at its centre, ORO MĀIA is powerful, joyful, and life affirming.

Fly My Pretties are back, with sizzling new talent, new songs, and the same old ethos of collaborative musical magic. Their loyal Pōneke fans were treated to three concerts in the Great Hall of the Dominion Museum Building at Massey University as part of the Wellington Jazz Festival. Even more excitingly for us, these concerts were the recording sessions for Fly My Pretties’ upcoming album Elemental and overflowed with sweet new material.

Elemental is Fly My Pretties’ eighth album and feels resonant with their platinum debut Fly My Pretties Live at Bats. The much-beloved Aotearoa musical collaboration was founded in Wellington in 2004 by Mikee Tucker and The Black Seeds frontman Barnaby Weir, and has championed a plethora of Kiwi musicians over its 20-year history. This latest incarnation features 11 established and emerging Kiwi artists, including the velvet-voiced and grounding presence Aja, firecracker pop sensation Riiki Reid, and the indomitable Taylah.

The featured artists all have independent careers, but came together to write songs for Elemental. The setlist managed to strike a balance between stylistically eclectic and thematically cohesive. This sense of cohesion was enhanced by killer coordinated but individualised outfits in the first set, and fantastic supporting visuals on an enormous screen by Mike Bridgman and Jamie Robertson. Our appetites have been well and truly whetted for the release of the Elemental album and next year’s tour.

But the critical ingredient that made this night one of the best gigs I’ve ever attended was the incredible vibes and sense of whanaungatanga. Barnaby Weir seems to have a talent for that elusive and vital skill of community building. It came through in the way the artists interacted on stage, the time taken to acknowledge the venue and recording equipment provided by Massey University, and the way we were invited to feel part of the album’s production.  

Multi-GRAMMY®-winning bassist, composer, arranger, and producer Marcus Miller has been called one of the most influential artists of our era. At the top of his game for over 40 years, he is consistently recognised as one of the greatest electric bassists of all time. Renowned for his legendary technique and feel in his fusion of jazz, funk, groove, and soul, he is also one of the most recorded artists in modern music. It was fitting then that he, as the top billing, opened this year’s Wellington Jazz Festival.

The full Opera House audience was fortunate to experience not just one, but five exceptionally talented musicians on stage. Miller may have been the star of the show with his sublime, at times simply breathtaking thumb-slapping skills up and down the guitar neck, but he also constantly praised his fellow musicians and introduced them at least three times throughout the night! 

From the funky opening track Panther, featuring soaring keyboards from Xavier Gordon and dynamically syncopated, rhythmic drumming from Anwar Marshall, we knew we were in for something special. With Miller’s funky bass and Donald Hayes’ dazzling, soaring notes on saxophone, Red Baron had the crowd mesmerised, clapping and cheering after every solo.  

Maputo was a dedication to saxophone great David Sanborn, who passed earlier this year – one of a multitude of artists Miller has collaborated with throughout his career. Miller is probably best known for his work (including three albums) with Miles Davis during the 1980s – Tutu and Mr Pastorius, tracks from which featured the expressively clean tones of Russell Gunn on trumpet. 

Miller told of his visit to an island off the coast of Senegal, which served as an outpost to slave trading, after which he wrote the poignant and desperately sad Gorée (Go-ray). With Miller playing a bass clarinet under soft deep-blue lighting, this slow melancholic ballad almost moved me to tears. 

A second standing ovation, after the encore Come Together, was no less than this spectacular band deserved. Superlative.

Walking through the doors of Circa Two having never met the famous Cythia Fortitude or Gertrude Rallentando before, I had no idea what to expect from Cynthia & Gertie Ride Again!. Little did I know, I was in for a rollicking good time.

The story follows Cynthia (Helen Moulder) as she prepares for her new opera The Marvellous Sandflies of Aotearoa. The show honours the late Rose Beauchamp, who played the other half of the dynamic duo. Even though Gertie isn’t physically there, her presence is felt throughout.

As Cythia rides into the theatre, it’s clear this is going to be a fun time. Her dotty, eccentric charm does not disappoint. With her wit and many failed attempts to navigate the modern world, she has the audience in stitches from start to finish.

The show is a real-life theatrical opera lesson with a comedic twist. Cynthia humorously educates us and even ropes us into becoming part of the performance, teaching us proper vocal technique and the correct pronunciation of ‘recitative’.

Audience participation is instrumental in this production. As members of the Island Bay Opera Guild, we take on memorable characters such as northern locals, ‘backing packers’, and even eunuch priests. The interaction is hysterical, and Moulder’s way with the audience makes the whole spectacle all the more entertaining.

I must also commend the lighting design. Deb McGuire and Gabriella Eaton’s work aligns perfectly with Cynthia’s very specific ideas and consistently sets the right mood, evoking the perfect emotions in every circumstance.

I never thought I’d find myself enjoying a performance about the plight of sandflies, but here we are. By the end, I’m surprisingly sympathetic to the often-swatted insect.

This is the most I’ve laughed all year. So, whizz down to Circa Theatre while you can and jump aboard the wild ride. You might just leave with newfound respect for Austrosimulium ungulatum. The Island Bay Opera Guild is waiting for you…

Before We Slip Beneath the Sea is a new immersive theatre experience from award-winning local playwright Cassandra Tse. As well as providing a topical and thought-provoking discussion of climate change responses, it’s helping fulfil her PhD requirements.

Set in the hyper-real environment of a village hall, with Aro Valley Community Centre doubling as St Rita’s Hall on the fictional island of Eglantyne, this cleverly structured play allows for the audience to participate as much or as little as they wish. Get fully involved in the narrative by chatting with cast members and eavesdropping on their conversations or sit in a plastic chair with a bikkie and a bottle of (alcohol-free) beer to take in the regular scripted segments that reiterate the key plot and relationship details you might have missed.

The seven featured island-dwellers, nicknamed ‘Eggies’, are a cross-section of Kiwis whose island lifestyle has been threatened by rising tides. The City Council has ordered the permanent evacuation of the island rather than try to mitigate the effects of climate change. It’s their last official night on Eglantyne and some island-dwellers have embraced the need to move on, while others want to stay in defiance of the order and lobby for sea defences that will allow them to live there another decade or two. It’s a straightforward but rewarding narrative that the ensemble cast – Charlie Potter, Hannah McKenzie Doornebosch, Ralph Johnson, Megan Connolly, Billie Deganutti, Helen Jones, and Craig Geenty – deliver in a natural and authentic way under the guidance of Tse’s unfussy direction.

Working in a non-traditional theatrical context means the tech is determined by what’s available. Lucas Neal’s production design leans into the community hall vibe using the in-place lighting, surreptitiously adding sound gear in the guise of a karaoke machine, and rearranging the tables and chairs as the plot advances.

Joining the Eggies in their fight to preserve their home is all the more impactful for tearing down the fourth wall and absorbing the audience into their emotive story. Whose side are you on?

On a tight deadline, siblings Mary (Hannah Kelly), Jason (Simon Leary), and Helena (Stella Reid) must pack up their father’s home – where Jason has been living with his partner Sam (Jthan Morgan) – as they prepare to move the once-celebrated pianist into a dementia care facility. Gus Lochburn’s (Peter Hambleton) mind lives at a different point in time than his body – one where his wife Margaret (Kali Kopae) is still alive. One thing can always pull him back to the present: music.

We watch Gus’ memories unfold as he plays piano, sings, and dances with his wife in flashbacks that are so seamlessly integrated, it is hard to tell where the past ends and the present begins. This mirrors what is happening in Gus’ mind. In his lucid moments when reality hits, and the Lochburns employs some of the most poignant dramatic irony I’ve seen at the theatre. The mother leaves the stage, and the father cannot understand where his wife has gone. While his children simply read this as a symptom of a worsening condition, the audience experiences a knowing, collective heartbreak. It is in these moments that I glimpse more than a few hankies being whipped out of pockets in my peripheral vision. Our emotional response is testament not only to such a lyrical script, but to Hambleton’s gut-wrenching, brilliant performance.

Where and the Lochburns also excels is in its exploration of family dynamics. The characters are so carefully crafted, the exceptional cast so connected with each other and their stories, that I feel I know each sibling well. Sam, too – and it would be remiss of me not to mention Morgan’s showstopping line of the evening about adoption. A well-deserved roar of laughter there!  

With gifted music director Hayden Taylor at the helm, Kopae’s singing is a standout and earns rapturous applause, especially when she’s given a mic. On that note, Meg Rollandi’s detailed production design is stunning but sees the stage extend far back into a cavernous space where dialogue is muffled at times. I hope the acoustics can be improved because I don’t want anyone to miss any of and the Lochburns – a play spun with threads of music, memory, and pure gold.

Having recently read Judy Bailey’s Evolving about ageing, reading Age Less: The new science of slower and healthier ageing, it felt like a natural progression to explore the science behind ageing less.

Age Less explains why we age and the scientific theories of ageing. I hadn’t realised there was so much research into why we age.

Not only does author Greg Macpherson introduce a series of ageing experts, but the reader can also scan a QR code to hear an interview with each of the experts from around the world. Their theories transverse biology, genetics, DNA, hyperbaric medicine, immunology, and biophysics to name just a few. There’s a lot to sink your teeth into here and for the scientifically inclined, it’s likely a treasure trove. Macpherson also explores the idea of ageing as a disease.

I found I enjoyed chapter five the most, The Science of Ageing. Macpherson describes how this chapter “gets into the nuts and bolts about what we know about the ageing process.” Here he talks about the ‘hallmarks of ageing’, a framework developed by experts in 2013 which “sought to identify and categorise the fundamental molecular and cellular changes that cause ageing”.

To give you an idea of what the hallmarks delve into, number one is genomic instability and number two is telomere attrition. I won’t even begin to try and explain these but think DNA and how it is effectively a blueprint for all our cells as a very rudimentary start.

Macpherson says, “Our external environment and the biological processes and changes that happen in our bodies influence how we age at a cellular and molecular level.” These, he notes, can be different for everyone, which can explain why we all appear to age differently.

“Chronological ageing is straightforward and absolute… yet biological ageing is not as predictable or uniform”, the author says.

Age Less provides a wealth of information about how we age. The scientific journey Macpherson takes you on with a team of experts at hand is informative, and though dense in parts, is a well-balanced look at what we can do to increase longevity.

Mothers and memoirs don’t go together, notes our author at the outset – heaven forbid mothers should start editing! That said, this is a tale dedicated to mothers (whaea) and other wāhine in a life packed with drama, reflection, and wry humour.

Whaea Blue has already been described in superlatives and I’ve got some too. I’m offering some specifics, though, as examples of Marshall’s skills as a writer. For a start, the chapter headings – all 37 of them – are enticingly detailed. Who could resist Chicken Feet, Dolphin Princess, and Who are you killing?

The power of writing in the present tense is admirably demonstrated. Given that the narrative line moves back and forth, alternating present and past adds to its effectiveness. Then there are the disarming self-disclosures in comments peppered throughout. Marshall refers to “the silly putty of my imagination” and to being “a determined little adult”.

Grandfather Jim gets the attention he deserves as he lies slowly dying in a rest home in Dunedin. His funeral is held inside the Mormon chapel he built with Māori in the sixties. That’s when Ans Westra’s Maori was published. Marshall paints a sympathetic portrait of Westra and the photographer’s Eurocentric gaze. Her comment that “Ans Westra caught Māori men in the act of being good” juxtaposes the criticism of the sometimes-controversial figure.

It’s maybe arguable that the author has tried to pack too much into over 300 pages. Roving through being the child of an unwed Mormon Pākehā mother, encountering her Māori father (formerly “a construct out of cultural cliches”), a series of lovers, a chilling encounter with magic mushrooms, a clash with a supervisor on cultural matters – and I’m only halfway through!

The second half of Whaea Blue is coloured by our writer’s ongoing struggle with mental health and the sometimes-psychotic experiences that accompany it. This is salutary stuff. Much of Whaea Blue is, but it’s well and truly balanced by a cascading resilience, a growing sense of identity, and an extraordinary honesty.

If you have ever sung a hymn in your life, there is a good chance you have Shirley Erena Murray to thank for it. Growing up in Invercargill, she would go on to make a major impact on hymns sung in New Zealand.

Both Murray and her husband John were staunch believers in equality and fairness all their lives, and no hymn conveys these sentiments so eloquently as the one titled For Everyone Born, A Place at The Table. Written by Shirley in 1998, it beautifully sums up her beliefs and character with its lyrics conveying her ideas of how we should treat each other. While now 26 years old, its message is just as relevant as it was when first written.

Eventually she helped publish three very important titles – Alleluia Aotearoa, Carol Our Christmas, and A New Zealand Hymn Book – each distinctly Kiwi and representing all our peoples: Māori, Pasifika, and European. In addition, she later wrote her own books, further making her mark.

What I love the most about Peace Is Her Song is learning about how Murray achieved her goals while being a devoted wife to John and mother to her three boys Alistair, David, and Rob. As well as her own work, she helped write and compile several books showcasing New Zealand’s best hymns.

Anne Manchester’s lyrical Peace Is Her Song is further proof of what I have always said about biographies: that they not only entertain but teach us that no matter how hard we think we have it, others have overcome similar or worse problems. I have always marvelled at how we can pick up a book, gain access to someone’s life and experiences, and be able to benefit from their wisdom.

If you see Peace is Her Song at your local bookshop, I highly recommend picking it up. Even if you are not into poetry, this is well worth it just to read Shirley’s story and marvel at the life she led.

Want a coffee table book that’s also a great conversation starter? I recommend They Said What?! – a collection of iconic Kiwi quotes from the last 12 years. Voted for by New Zealanders, these represent a broad spectrum of comments, exclamations, excuses, explanations, and gaffes from politicians, sportspeople, comedians, musicians, activists, and broadcasters.

It’s tempting to quote the best ones, so instead I’ll provide clues. What were the memorable words said by three guys who rescued trapped citizens during Cyclone Gabrielle? And who were the guys? Self-deprecation can enhance action.

From the politicians: Who said what about lamingtons? Who was encouraged to raise an eyebrow in defeat? Who did a little dance at certain news and why? What was the one about the benefit? And way back in 2014, who said he was sorry for being a man?

From politics to magic powers: The Christchurch Wizard makes a bold statement that’s been borne out by spells that actually worked; a cannabis user has hopes about a tinny house; Taika Waititi has strong opinions about New Zealand; a musician compares John Clarke to Nureyev; and comedian Te Radar is worried about the economy.

Editor Kavan and her colleagues made rigorous decisions about the winning quotes for each year based on brevity, originality, and impact. Ultimately, the voting public were the deciders. And of all the gems in this collection, one stands out for me. Not made by a politician, sportsman, writer, or public figure of any kind, a 2015 winning quote takes the cake for its extraordinary courage. A schoolboy at Christchurch Boys’ High, on a razor’s edge between life and death, nevertheless delivers a heart-stopping message at the senior prizegiving ceremony. “None of us get out of life alive. So be gallant, be great, be gracious, and be grateful for the opportunities you have.” He goes on to survive the cancer that should have killed him. I wonder what The Christchurch Wizard would have to say about that!

I would like to think these 100+ quotes represent and express what’s best and finest and funniest about us New Zealanders.

Billed as “a stunning night of hits from the greatest divas”, the almost-full house was not disappointed. The Lady Killers were Suzanne Lynch, Jackie Clarke, and Sharon Emirali – a very able replacement for Tina Cross, who had COVID.  

With a mixture of group medleys and solo performances, this was a masterclass in top-notch, high-energy singing, with superb band arrangements led by talented keyboardist Grant Winterburn. The simple-themed backdrops included photos and were a great touch that didn’t detract from the onstage action. The minimal light show enhanced the visibility of all the singers and band members, making for more inclusive interaction between artists and audience. 

But the highlight of the evening? The songs from divas as diverse as Nina Simone and Taylor Swift. Jackie said the night was about “women who sing and write with their hearts and souls, and have made the beautiful soundtracks of our lives”.  

Sweet Dreams, followed by the gorgeous (You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman, got vocal chords and the crowd warmed up nicely. An energetic Valerie was followed by Son of a Preacher Man, featuring Suzanne’s sultry vocals. Stop! In the Name of Love featured the solid rhythm section of Karika Turua (bass) and Adam Tobeck (drums). Single Ladies had more than a few ladies out of their seats dancing. For Venus, with Chet O’Connell’s frenetic guitar playing, the audience sang along enthusiastically. 

The Pointer Sisters’ Jump (For My Love) segueing into Van Halen’s Jump, without the band missing a beat, was a masterstroke. How Will I Know had the crowd loudly clapping and singing along – but the sound mix was so good that The Lady Killers were never drowned out! 

After the interval, 9 to 5 got the crowd straight back into party mode. I Will Survive, Man! I Feel Like A Woman!, Jackie’s stunning vocal range on Wuthering Heights... so many songs, too many highlights to list! With the final song Waterloo, after more than two hours of diva hits, we felt like we had just been in party central – Wellington style!

The Secret Society was an early 20^th century club of French musicians, writers, and artists. Claude Debussy’s music greatly influenced this group. Two other featured composers in this concert programme, Maurice Ravel and Florent Schmitt, were members. A fourth composer, Lili Boulanger, was not a member though musically she would have fitted admirably. The Secret Society did not admit women. Tragically, she died in 1918 aged 24.

Debussy’s Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun was the only work in the programme that is standard in the orchestral repertoire. (How well conductor Marc Taddei educates his audience!) This haunting and largely dream-like work feels almost like a 10-minute improvisation. There is little urgency in it but the whole is beautifully balanced and complete. Taddei did not go for the lushest interpretation and I was happy with that.

The audience loved Ravel’s Piano Concerto for the Left Hand with soloist Jian Liu. Written for a soldier who lost his arm in war, the one hand achieves all (and more) that you would expect of two. The full brass and thumping percussion and lovely use of lower-pitched instruments made for satisfying listening. Jian Liu was thoroughly on top of it. His encore, Flight of the Bumblebee by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov, was cheekily for right hand only!

Boulanger’s D’un Soir Triste (Of A Sad Evening) was her final work. The range of emotion and expression is remarkable. It is morose and gaunt at times, dignified, fearful, resigned, then quietly reflective. A monumental work, strongly performed.

Congratulations to Orchestra Wellington for the dynamic delivery of a very challenging programme; challenging for listeners as well as players. After the final item, Schmitt’s The Tragedy of Salome, a very dramatic piece with brass and percussion just about lifting the roof off, I felt quite wrung out! The Tudor Consort contributed to this work, providing great relief with their lovely voices.

Trees, Bees, and Me definitely tops the list of my favourite shows! I don’t even know where to start in telling you how absolutely captivating, magical, and real this show is.

The excitement in the air is contagious as we enter the theatre. The stage, designed and built by Brendan West and James Searle, resembles the perfect backyard. Three of the most beautiful tūī that you will ever see (Gabby Clark, Ryan Cundy, and Tadhg Mackay) enter with a cheerful song and gorgeous costumes, designed and created by Victoria Gridley. The cast members are so versatile and play multiple different characters throughout the show. They portray each character so well that you can’t help but love even the bad guys.

Mackay also plays Poppa, a loving grandad with a green thumb and a love for the whenua and his whānau. Mimi (Salomé Neely) is a brave young girl who needs some answers. Her brother Trey (Clark) is too funny and has everyone laughing at his quirky personality. Dad (Cundy) is supportive, fun, and very charismatic. Nan (Catriona Tipene) is the perfect nan with her famous ‘bikkies’ and nurturing nature.

Written by Benny Tipene, the songs are playful, meaningful, and bring an extra sprinkle of magic to every scene. Trees, Bees, and Me tugs at your heartstrings and gets you emotionally invested in the relationships of the characters. The audience is rallied up: we belly laugh, boo the bad guys, and cheer for the outcome we’ve all been hoping for.

Of course, my favourite thing to do after a show is to ask Mister Almost Six what part he loved the most. Well, I can’t tell you that this time because I don’t want to ruin it for you… but Binnie creeps deep into your heart!

Produced by Horse With No Name, Trees, Bees, and Me is not a show to miss – trust me!

There are moments in which we realise that life is all about perspective. My Week with Maisy is just that, both within the world of the short film and in real life. A Show Me Shorts Film Festival submission starring the inimitable Dame Joanna Lumley as uptight retiree Emily Foster, this short albeit sweet story takes place in a chemotherapy treatment room. Anxious, brimming with feelings of self-pity, and with a glass-half-empty mentality, Mrs Foster can think of nothing worse than to share her time slot with Maisy (Ellie-Mae Siame), a whirlwind inquisitive child aspiring to be a lesbian. As their treatments progress, the pair form an unlikely bond that offers healing and unexpected, newfound hope.

Set entirely in an incongruously chirpy fuchsia and blush space, the design team deserves huge props. Production designer Anna Papa and set dresser Lydia Perez breathe freshness and vitality into a weighty world. Rather than compounding feelings of hopelessness and fear, the candy-pop décor is a physical representation of looking on the bright side of life. In perfect harmony, Hannah Teare’s costumes capture the two characters’ essences – Mrs Foster in a dowdy, prim suit and Maisy in outlandish onesies, a neon green wig making more than one surprise appearance. It would be remiss of me not to mention the immense talent of cinematographer Emma Dalesman, her saccharine landscape gleaming bright from the screen.

Under award-winning director Mika Simmons’ deft guidance, Lumley and Siame shine. They bring writer Mark Oxtoby’s exquisitely complex characters to life tenderly, wholly, and with the utmost deliberateness. The tightly coiled Mrs Foster gently begins to unwind as Maisy, wise beyond her years, wiggles between the cracked façade with her unapologetic candidness. “My dad says it’s always best to say what you mean,” Maisy declares in their first conversation. Taken aback at first, by the end, Mrs Foster has been won over by Maisy’s charm, eagerly awaiting each visit and entreating her to never change.

A short film supported by the Create Health Foundation that says so much in so little time, My Week with Maisy will fill your cup.

Aaron Copland is the ‘Dean of American Music’ who established a distinctly American style. His Appalachian Spring Suite, written for a ballet and often played alone as an orchestral work, is one of his most recognisable pieces. It tells a simple story of ordinary people in 19^th century rural Pennsylvania. The music has a clarity and calmness that reflects the lives and values of Appalachian society. A solo clarinet always sounds pastoral and the audience was transported immediately to a rural setting. The sequence of images continued to be clear, thanks to a stellar performance by the orchestra under the baton of principal conductor Gemma New.

Pianist Stephen De Pledge was gifted Lyell Cresswell’s Piano Concerto No. 3 upon the composer’s death in 2022. De Pledge described it as “swathes of contrasting colour like a painting by Howard Hodgkin”. The pianist brought every note to life, carefully crafting and presenting it like a Hodgkin abstract. It was an unmistakably modern piece but, at the same time, one with a familiar tone. De Pledge led us through the music – complex and multi-layered, sometimes noisy and perplexing – and we could see him clearly putting his heart and soul into the performance.

Undaunted by the switch from a 21^st century abstract representation to Mozart’s Symphony No. 41 in C major, New was obviously enjoying herself. Perfectly weighted, positioned, and balanced accents in the opening bars of the second movement were followed by a most delicate but lively third movement, and the delayed phrasing in the fourth felt like we were always on the brink of ending the evening only to be lifted up again by the next phrase. A highly skilled orchestra, in tune with a talented conductor, brilliantly interpreting a mature Mozart symphony combined to an impeccable performance. Our creative capital has plenty in the tank. It’s our job to get out there and enjoy it!

I grew up watching DVD boxsets of Fawlty Towers with my dad. When I heard a live rendition of the cult-classic BBC Two British sitcom was coming to a Wellington hotel – served up with a three-course meal to boot – I jumped at the chance to review. My plus one? My dad, of course.

We arrive at Oaks Wellington Hotel to be greeted by a (far-too-nice) concierge, so to speak (executive producer Jared Harford), who checks our names at the door. While waiting in the lobby to be let into the restaurant, a roving Basil Faulty (Jed McKinney), Sybil Faulty (Eilannin Harris-Black), and Manuel (Michael Gonsalves) – a cranky and bumbling hotelier, his wife who can kill a man with one blow of her tongue, and a frazzled waiter who doesn’t speak English – begin to bicker under their breath, their whispers hissing through the space like a boiling pot of celery soup. Their characters need to keep their guests in the dark, but as actors, they need their audience to catch every little acidic jab. They nail the balance, and delightfully, the show is late to start. I’m not sure whether this is deliberate, but it’s certainly appropriate.

Our three-course meal starts with soup (which I’ve fondly nicknamed ‘pumpkin surprise’ and ‘perhaps pea’) and cold bread rolls (oddly, there was not too much butter on those trays). Waiters (real ones from Oaks) place our bowls haphazardly on the tables, missing punters left, right, and centre. You can tell they’re having a blast. The main course is a chicken breast with powdery, cakey mash and the dessert is a quite-yummy cheesecake, actually! While we eat, the three actors own the room, riffing with guests and each other in a part-improv, part-scripted interactive dining experience that leaves others I’ve seen for dust.

My favourite moment is when Basil attempts to hang a mounted fish above a vegetarian audience member who has just finished lecturing him on cruelty to animals. He also accuses me of pick pocketing when I try to retrieve something from my jacket out in the lobby, which is gleefully frightening. I sprint back to my seat, whimpering and giggling in the same breath. McKinney is aptly acerbic, though his simmering rage doesn’t boil over until the final scene. When it does, wow – what a show. Harris-Black is a knockout as Sybil and commands our attention with every word – spoken or screeched (sorry, sung). Though, I long to hear Sybil's iconic catchphrase, “Oh I know”. Gonsalves is charming, manic, and gormless all in one as the lovable Manuel.

Put all your money on this horse: Faulty Towers The Dining Experience is deliciously unforgettable.

The boys are back! They’re grubby, swashbuckling, and here to save France – you best believe they’ll do it with panache as well in The Three Musketeers: Milady.

The second instalment of this cinematic treatment of Alexandre Dumas’ classic novel is just as rambunctious and rollicking as the first. In fact, it packs even more of a punch as war no longer looms over France but engulfs it. Full of intrigue and deceit, the festering and convoluted plot centres around the famous three musketeers – Athos (Vincent Cassel), Porthos (Pio Marmaï), and Aramis (Romain Duris) – alongside new recruit and friend Charles D’Artagnan (François Civil) just like in the first half. This time around though, the scheming Milady de Winter (Eva Green) no longer relegates herself to the sidelines – she gladly takes centre stage in a role that’s equal parts femme fatale, trained assassin, and betrayed lover. She is an equal match for the men both in sword fighting and mental games, and she does it all in heels and a corset.

Opening with an expertly spliced recap courtesy of editor Stan Collet, you don’t even need to see part one of Martin Bourboulon’s lavish, all-star adaptation… though I would highly recommend it. The extravagant €70 million production wants for nothing as armies traipse across the countryside, battalions commandeer castles towering over the sea, ships crumble in the wake of cannons, and fire sets the world ablaze in part two. This is a stark contrast to its predecessor, which took place primarily in courts bedecked like cakes.

I was pleasantly surprised to find part two of The Three Musketeers as engaging as the first. Nuanced performances are coupled with scenes of epic grandeur, both working towards a result that strikes the perfect balance between Hollywood blockbuster and European period drama. If you don’t mind subtitles, you’re in for a treat. If you refuse to watch a film just because it’s in a foreign language, you are missing out on some truly incredible cinema, not just with The Three Musketeers: Milady but at large.

When it comes to The Three Musketeers: Milady, let them eat cake, I declare! Bring your snacks and settle in for the finale of an incredible two-part series… or is it just the beginning?

The sacred symbolism of light has inspired many composers over centuries and singers love to sing the Latin word ‘lux’, a word capable of much expressive beauty. 

The concert opened with one of four pieces called Lux Aeterna, the first a plainchant originating in the 12^th-century Catholic church. Sung by male voices only, it was a simple, peaceful, and thoughtful start to the concert. The other bookend of the concert was also a Lux Aeterna, an arrangement of Edward Elgar’s Nimrod from the Enigma Variations. Light years away from the plainchant, it had all the powerful sweetness associated with Elgar.

It was in the five movements of Lux Aeterna by Morten Lauridsen, an American contemporary of great stature in the choral world, that the choir performed best, creating a lovely tone – warm, clear, and well blended with a convincing range of dynamics, good energy, and excellent intonation.

Bob Chilcott’s Canticles of Light was another contemporary work. Its third movement, O Nata Lux de Lumine, was particularly well sung by the women choristers, their voices fading away beautifully into nothingness at the end.  

The capacity audience also heard a rich, solemnly prayerful Lux Aeterna by Brian Schmidt, and an elegant O Nata Lux by Guy Forbes, both contemporary American composers. Choir member Michael Winikoff’s Lux was a worthy addition to the programme.

The mostly a cappella programme was challenging. Despite being overall an entertaining concert, the choir was surprisingly tentative at times. Some entries were a bit untidy, some intonation momentarily unconfident, and the blending of soprano voices was occasionally wanting. Was it the unaccustomed acoustics of the venue? Or in the accompanied pieces, did the odd quality of the organ’s lower register have an impact?

Nevertheless, congratulations to music director Maaike Christie-Beekman and Nota Bene for the interesting, enjoyable, and seasonally appropriate concert.

In Ngā Rorirori, writer, director, and choreographer Hone Kouka has mashed up three of his favourite things: theatre, dance, and farce. The show traces the relationship between the remaining two members of a whānau and their whenua. A brother is on a quest to turn the land into a cash cow while his sister tries to take a considered approach to their joint heritage. He’s a convicted fraudster, she’s a political activist. Throw in a visit from the chief executive of a government department, a hidden boyfriend, and a heartbroken overachiever, and “today is the day”.

Nominally performed by two actors (Mycah Keall and Manuel Solomon) and three dancers (Sefa Tunupopo, Nomuna Amarbat, and Stela Dara), it’s hard to say where the dance ends and the acting begins as each performer has mad skills at both. Keall and Solomon play siblings Manuela and Pillow, each dedicated to their cause and hilariously engaging to watch. The three dancers also bring nuance to their supporting characters. After 90 minutes, I’m exhausted from watching them, such is their energy, with Kouka (assisted by Dara) effectively blending kapa haka and modern dance moves.

Not speaking lines but lip-syncing to a recorded soundtrack allows the performers to emote in the exaggerated manner of farce, as well as carry off the huge physicality that is demanded of them. With music (composed by Maarire Brunning-Kouka, Reon Bell, and Karnan Saba), dialogue by a team of vocal performers, and effects all mixed live by Isaac Kirkwood, the continuous soundtrack is seamless and powerful. The lighting design (Natasha James) is also striking, utilising side and top light.

Mark McEntyre’s set is a seemingly pedestrian but cleverly constructed community hall that allows the performers to flow through and around it. They pop up in unexpected places and make creative use of benches, chairs, and folding tables.

An intense fever dream of movement, sound, light, language, and humour, Ngā Rorirori also has much to say about the nature of culture and our place within it.