Simultaneously an ode to Italy and a denunciation, Caro Diario (1993) is a far cry from the mainstream media who idealise the European lifestyle. If that’s the world you’re dreaming of watch this first, because this is how it truly feels, what it actually looks like, and how it really is.

Caro Diario, which is both written and directed by Italy’s contemporary auteur filmmaker Nanni Moretti (who also stars in the film), is autobiographical in style with a touch of magical realism. It’s an open diary that doesn’t follow the narrative form we are accustomed to. Rather, it ambles through moments and emotions, thoughts and events, capturing the essence of a time, place, or feeling instead of prioritising story. That said, it’s not without structure.

Segmented into three chapters, On My Vespa pays homage to Moretti’s beloved Roma, but the back alleys and suburbs that are deserted and desolate during the summer holiday of Ferragosto – an occurrence ingrained in the culture and intrinsic to the country. The centrepiece Islands is a Ulyssean journey to the Aeolian Islands to find inspiration for his next film, but without success, Moretti tells us as we sit in the cinema watching his antics. The final chapter Doctors is a slice of life with actual footage of medical notes, appointments, and treatments – the disdain for Italian bureaucracy is palpable.

Caro Diario is intimate, in part due to Moretti’s narration, which feels like he’s talking to a friend, paired with Mirco Garrone’s slow editing that allows Giuseppe Lanci’s poetic cinematography to wash over us. Marta Maffucci’s authentic and unpretentious production design completes the trifecta, creating a world that you are firmly a part of. In what is reminiscent of a Roman epic or a classic saga, Caro Diario is rooted in philosophical musings, but it doesn’t forgo lightness, charm, and humour. Much like in life itself, moments simply happen, good and bad waltz arm in arm, and the little things are the most special.

Screening as part of the Italian Film Festival, Caro Diario may not depict the Italy you’re dreaming of, but it distils the visceral, infuriating, poetic, and magical place it really is.

After almost 40 years since he formed Crowded House with bassist Nick Seymour and drummer Paul Hester, Neil Finn’s voice sounds almost unchanged. What has changed, however, is that his two sons Liam (guitar) and Elroy (drums) play alongside him – and it’s obvious that this means a lot to him.

It may just be because this was the first of 16 concerts in Australasia, but the band was clearly excited to play to their home crowd again. Neil and Nick are the sole constant members, but Mitchell Froom (keyboards) actually produced the first three Crowded House albums – the first in 1986! This is a band with longevity.

They came on to the stage in the dark with lanterns, leading into the raging When You Come, a surprise starter. The follow-up World Where You Live had the audience rocking. Teenage Summer was the first song from the new album Gravity Stairs – the new songs mixing seamlessly with the classics. For Oh Hi, Neil got the audience to sing on the chorus and though the verse was almost too high for him, he had strong backing-vocal support from Liam, Nick, and Elroy. To the Island, featuring lead guitar by Liam and Mitchell’s ethereal keyboards, received special applause.

Four Seasons in One Day had the phone-waving crowd singing along, followed by It’s Only Natural, which got some up dancing. The light show was stunning – especially when highlighting the stage props, which looked like giant pipe cleaners!

Neil then switched to piano for a selection of songs, including the languid Night Song – which segued cleverly into Message to My Girl. Private Universe, driven by percussionist Paul Taylor, rose to a crescendo. Elroy then switched to acoustic guitar, with Taylor on drums, for Thirsty.

This was one of the most interactive concerts I have seen. The audience needed no coaxing to join in singing the choruses on the classics: Four Seasons in One Day, the first encore Weather With You, and the finale Better Be Home Soon. This iconic New Zealand band, playing vital new music and much-loved classics, showed their adoring audience the meaning of being entertained. Legends.

Marc Taddei’s choice of George Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess to illustrate the part jazz has in the history of music was inspired. The music combines classical, jazz, gospel, spiritual, and blues idioms and is full of energy, colour, and sheer beauty. This performance was a 1956 arrangement of the opera by Russell Garcia for full orchestra, a choir, and three solo vocalists, including one who narrates offstage action.

The orchestra was on fire throughout, the large brass section having a particularly good time with the jazz idioms. Soprano Deborah Wai Kapohe, playing all the female characters including Bess, was outstanding, her voice flexible, with an excellent range, and both sweet and strong. Bass Eddie Muliaumaseali’i, as both Porgy and Crown, his villainous rival for Bess, was equally impressive. He had an imposing presence and his wonderfully integrated voice was rich, smooth, and dramatic. Tenor Siliga Sani Muliaumaseali’i (Eddie’s brother in real life) provided the narration and sang the role of drug-dealer Sportin’ Life with convincing menace. The audience was treated to characterful performances of arias such as Summertime, I Got Plenty O’ Nuttin’, It Ain’t Necessarily So, and Bess, You Is My Woman Now. The choir complements the soloists in creating the drama and pathos of the opera. An outstanding group of Pasifika singers from the award-winning, Wellington-based Signature Choir provided this component of the performance very sympathetically. Jacqueline Coats’ staging of the opera was minimal, clever, and amusing.

Porgy and Bess was preceded by the annual appearance of Arohanui Strings, a group of Wellington and Hutt Valley youngsters grasping the opportunity to learn and make music. This always heartwarming event featured A Kalahari Eclogue, an attractive composition by Keith Moss, supplemented by simpler pieces that even smaller children participated in. “Adorable”, said Taddei, and they were.

In sum, with Taddei’s imaginative programming and natural ebullience, Orchestra Wellington triumphed again.

Entering through a tempest to get to Circa Theatre, I was unaware of the storm of laughter that The Tempestuous would bring. Inspired by the Bard himself, William Shakespeare, this musical solo show sees Princess Rosa navigating a cyclone of menopausal witches, full-of-themselves courtiers, and much ado about baking tarts.

Penny Ashton multi-roles this captivating story like no other. She commands the audience with great vigour and humour, making us burst into fits of laughter frequently. Each character that Ashton embodies is incredibly distinct – no mean feat considering she plays at least 10 roles as one incredibly talented actor with impressive vocals to boot (musical direction and compositions by Robbie Ellis). Let’s not forget that unparalleled one-person swordfight.

The Tempestuous is a satire, often critiquing the role of men, which I must say is rather deserved. Not just a laugh fest, the show also draws from current affairs and is very politically relevant.

Ashton’s multi-rolling extends not only onstage but also behind the scenes, as she is also the show’s writer, sound designer, producer, publicist, and more. The Tempestuous is well written using ‘ye olde English’ and features many a rhyming couplet. The stage is filled with many surprises, often causing the audience to chuckle when props are revealed (our prop artist is none other than… you guessed it, Ashton).

Ashton wears a stunning corset dress (costume design by Elizabeth Whiting and corset design by Katie McGettigan) that is so detailed, it almost stops the show in its elegant tracks.

Ashton’s gift for audience interaction is a highlight – especially the improvised moments, such as addressing a latecomer and the one who left their glasses. My only criticism is that I wish there had been more audience interaction overall.

The Tempestuous made me cackle like the coven of witches within it. If you want to laugh until your corset splits, then gallivant to Circa Theatre at thy earliest convenience – or be damned!

Welcome to 1990s Illyria! It’s a party resort on a Greek island in the sun, glowing in whitewash and shocking-pink bougainvillea (set designer Amy Whiterod). In his vibrant nightclub, Orsino (Ren Mahuika) bemoans his lovesickness for a grieving Olivia (Lydia Verschaffelt), while Viola (Ivana Palezevic) and her twin brother Sebastian (Blake Boston) separately wash up after a shipwreck. Elsewhere, an unholy alliance of Sir Toby Belch (Allan Burne), Sir Andrew Aguecheek (Sean Farrell), Maria (Catherine McMechan), and Fabia (Margot Allais) set a trap for uptight steward Malvolio (Mike McJorrow). It’s Shakespeare’s greatest comedy, it’s twins, it’s the 90s… you need naught else for the best night of entertainment in Wellington right now.

The vision of directors Joy Hellyer and Paul Kay is steeped throughout this delicious production. Emma Bell and Mike Slater’s lush and colourful lighting design enhances Whiterod’s Mediterranean set beautifully. The wardrobe (Katie Knight and Meredith Dooley, assisted by Amy Vines) is perfectly period with a transformed Malvolio’s bright-yellow Ali G outfit, complete with bling, a stunning and laugh-out-loud highlight.

Kay’s sound design is a continuous playlist of 90s bangers, cunningly woven into the narrative and even replacing the odd line of dialogue. If you feel so inclined, you can boogie with the cast during the interval and join in the final Macarena. Warning: you will find yourself on your feet at the end as it’s impossible not to be swept up in the infectious joy of this version of a Shakespeare classic.

The cast is superb all round, working slickly and harmoniously together to tell a somewhat ridiculous but always entertaining story. It’s hard to pick standouts from such a good lineup but Burne’s Sir Toby and McJorrow’s Malvolio are favourites, both embracing the comedy and tragedy in their characters. Charlie Potter as Feste must also be commended for her wonderful singing and unfettered demand for cash.

The Bard himself would be bopping like the Backstreet Boys in this stunningly sunny Stagecraft production.

I’m a big fan of 7 Days, New Zealand’s longest-running comedy game show on TV Three. Having just marked its 16^th season, the programme originally aired at the decidedly un-family-friendly time slot of 10pm before being brought forward to 9:30pm and then earlier still. In 7 Days Live, the comedians get to cut loose like the good ol’ days. No filters, no censors: just Kiwi comedy at its rudest and finest.

The format is simple. The dynamic, fast-paced first half sees host Jeremy Corbett, team captains Paul Ego and Dai Henwood, and comedians Hayley Sproull, Josh Thomson, Justine Smith, and Ben Hurley each perform a 10-minute solo stand-up set before sitting down for a live version of 7 Days in act two.

After Corbett gets the ball rolling by recounting the hypothetical arguments he has with his wife about how they’d spend the Lotto money they’ll never win (relatable), Ego comes on to tell us about a kindly nurse possibly born out of the procreation of a walnut and a prune. At this point, a random yells “That’s Kelly’s mum!” and Ego handles it like a champ, starting a running joke about the illicit substances in the heckler’s system that the rest of the comedians riff on throughout the night. Henwood earns one or two ovations but many more laughs with a heartfelt set that straddles everything from slow roasting a pizza to thinking he’s been mistaken for a six-foot-something rugby player.

Other highlights of act one include Thomson’s jarring encounter with the Eye of Sauron in a lift, Hurley’s jibe to an audience member that “no one cares about the rebrand” of Countdown, Smith’s assertion that she “too, was surprised” about being punched by airport security, and Sproull’s impression of a chuffed Mr. Bean with a set of knockers.

The sound mixing in the second half is not as great and I lose a lot of lines when the chatter overlaps, but overall, I have a wicked time living out my dreams of catching an episode of my favourite Kiwi panel show live. While the cast love to rip each other to shreds, their camaraderie here is obvious, the chemistry between them sizzling harder and hotter than a saussie straight off the Bunnings grill.

The Outrun is a difficult watch, but that’s not to say it shouldn’t be seen. Painful, searing, infuriating, and at times nauseating, this story of addiction and mental illness is hopeful and beautiful all the same.

Based on Amy Liptrot’s 2017 memoir and directed by Nora Fingscheidt, The Outrun stars Saoirse Ronan as Rona, a girl who finds herself in the wake of destruction as she shakily treads the path towards sobriety. After hitting rock bottom in London, Rona finds herself back home on the Orkney Islands, a landscape as desolate, stark, and tumultuous as her own soul. Here, she comes face to face with her demons and contends with her religious mother Annie (Saskia Reeves) and her bipolar father (Stephen Dillane), so deeper she retreats to the more remote island of Papay.

The fragmented story is stitched together by brilliant editing work from Stephan Bechinger, who uses crashing cuts to break from recovery to relapse as shots of nature bleed into EDM-fuelled rampages. Cleverly, Fingscheidt uses hair dye to delineate time as well. Ronan’s performance is nuanced and at odds with itself, both deliberate and shaky, fierce and afraid, delicate and a force of nature.

Despite the quick editing and Yunus Roy Imer’s striking cinematography, the lack of driving narrative makes the story slow and tedious in the middle. Only Ronan’s acting and natural screen presence carries us through. We fear the worst as events merely happen, often flatly, the truth laid bare. Nothing is sacred or damned, it just is.  

Juxtaposing scientific explanations for natural phenomena with folklore, Rona draws a parallel to memory. In this story, both memory and folklore act as impressions of reality. During her journey, natural chaos replaces her inner turmoil, trauma, and need to create chaos of her own. As she seeks control, she is ever fighting the impulse to destroy. She finds comfort in nature – the ebb and flow of the tide, the harshness of its elements – as she wades in the glacial north Atlantic and raging through winter storms. In this poetic tale, Rona becomes a conductor for the natural world around her, learning to make sense of her memories, her reality.

Verdi’s Overture to La forza del destino was a very accessible entry to this concert. Its familiar themes, moments of drama, and ‘proper’ ending – i.e. one that went on for a few bars and was obvious about when it was finished – were perfect for ‘almost, but not quite the end of the week’ at 7:30pm on a Thursday.

Soprano Eliza Boom, tenor Paul O’Neill, and conductor José Luis Gómez led us through some of the best of Italian pop music of the late 19^th and early 20^th century. The programme covered four composers and 10 operas. Those with an interest in opera would have recognised the composers: Verdi, Puccini, Mascagni, and Leoncavallo. Those less familiar with the opera, but with an ear for melody, would have easily recognised enough of the programme from soundtracks and advertisements to feel quite at home.

With so many separate items on the programme, Gómez provided a valuable and light-hearted narrative throughout. Context about the time when the composers were working, and scene setting so we knew what the aria was stating, gave the audience an understanding and additional pleasure that should not be underestimated.

Two soloists alone on stage is a far cry from a performance with their fellow cast members, chorus, costumes, lighting, and scenery. Despite missing all these usual extras, Boom and O’Neill did well to convey the full opera experience. They were most comfortable when on stage together and a nice touch was O’Neill (Rodolfo) escorting Boom (Mimi), arm in arm, into the wings, as if they were on stage in a full performance.

As ever, the orchestra was in very fine form, working with and responding well to Gómez. Together they directed and played with energy, emotion, and an obvious respect for the music despite their undoubted familiarity with much of what they had in front of them.

Oscar Kightley’s seminal 1997 play has been given a contemporary refresh in the wake of the New Zealand Government’s 2021 Apology to the Pacific Peoples who came to Aotearoa in the 1970s wanting to make a better life and remained as overstayers. They faced discrimination, persecution, and unjust brutality from police, government, and media, culminating in the infamous dawn raids of the play’s title. Unceremoniously deported back to their island homes, many people’s lives were upended and families were torn apart.

A staple of school drama assessments for the past two decades, it’s a pleasure to see Dawn Raids on a big stage. Despite the grandiosity of The Opera House, this Pacific Underground and Auckland Theatre Company production maintains a cosy feel through straightforward theatrical devices – innovative lighting (Jo Kilgour), flying gauze screens (set design by Marc McEntyre, G.O.M Arts Collective), a spot-on wardrobe (Tony De Goldi, G.O.M Arts Collective), and an ever-present live band (musical director Posenai Mavaega, Lijah Mavaega, Josephine Mavaega, co-director Tanya Muagututi’a, Andrew Sione, Seto Faulo, and Isitolo Alesana) – to tell one family’s story.

The cast is uniformly excellent with Michael Falesiu’s astounding singing voice bridging many of the scenes. He plays Sione, a nightclub crooner with the Noble Hawaiian Sabretooth Tigers who is too afraid to admit to his Samoan heritage in public. It’s his fiancée Fuarosa (Sina Esera) his family are hiding, never able to go out for fear of being grabbed from the streets.

Lauie Tofa gives a performance highlight as Mose, Sione’s father. While the plot focuses on the dawn raids, a running undercurrent is toxic masculinity in Samoan culture and Tofa embodies that hilariously, then frighteningly as he switches from daft dad to domestic dominance and, finally, betrayal.

Of course, coming from the pen of Oscar Kightley, Dawn Raids is very funny and it’s this humour, contrasted with the seriousness of the historical context, that is the play’s great success. It strikes a perfect balance; the dread inherent in the sweeping police torches and baying German shepherds is all the more terrifying in the wake of laughter.

This is a rare opportunity to enjoy a top-notch production of a New Zealand classic. Catch it while you can.

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.