Wellington Summer Festivals - Something for Everyone

There's always something going on in Wellington, and that's why I like living here.

We've just had the Sevens and there is cricket coming up. The fact that sailboats are constantly whizzing about on the water suggests that there are regattas and whatnot occurring for the boatie folk. Events are planned or have been raced for swimming, dragon boating, running and 5-a-side football.

Circus artists are performing on the wharf and the Cuba Street Carnival is on this weekend. There are outdoor film screenings, Shakespeare productions and music festivals. Recently we have had concerts in the park form a variety of artists, the One Love concert, featuriung dub, roots and reggae, and even some decent acts - Fur Patrol and David Byrne among them. In the coming weeks saxophones and double basses will abound in the Jazz Festival.

Festival is the word of the summer with one for the Chinese New Year, a Pasifikia one, and a beer festival in Waitangi Park coming up in a couple of weeks. Touring exhibitions include one of Leonardo da Vinci's more imaginative creations, and the Boston exhibition of Monet and the Impressionists at Te Papa.

Amidst all this is the Fringe Festival. I am trying to get to some shows - so far I have seen two (both of which I have thoroughly enjoyed) with more scheduled for next week. I hope to write reviews of them, but in the meantime here's my review of The Mountain which was published on Lumiere.

Wellington is a wonderfully compact little city (little more than a town really) and it's pretty easy to get to any of these events. It markets itself as the 'culture capital' and this summer it has certainly showcased its assets. From ballet dancing to Billy Connolly, there has been something for everyone. And there's plenty more where that came from.

Wait Until Dark

Wait Until Dark
Circa Theatre, 11 Oct - 8 Nov

I remember seeing this as a film when I was a child and I was terrified. I wondered whether the fear and suspense would translate to the theatre, and it did. I knew the story but still felt the thrill. I went with some friends and they were all on the edge of their seat staring at the stage.

Despite Circa being an open-style performance area, a curtain is rigged up and footlights placed on stage to make it more 'theatrical' and as though you are a fourth wall. At the climactic moment when all the lights go out, the audience experiences exactly the same blind isolation as the characters in the play. There are a few nervous titters at this point, but it is a powerful moment of intense drama.

Ban Abdul is excellent as Susy - she is blind but not disabled, with a sharp mind and a quick temper. Her physicality is excellent and I love her fluttering hands. Her husband, Sam, is played by Robert Tripe, and he seems brusque and demanding - his 'encouragement' of Susy to make her extend herself appears mean and bullying rather than playful and challenging. Perhaps this is just my interpretation, but I don't feel that Kiwis do playful.

Toby Leach is Croker; a comedy villain - a little over-the-top with his skittish indecision - where Tom Gordon is cold, clinical and precise. He invests the character of Roat with the chilling mien I would expect from a suspense thriller. Mike is a kindly baddie who doesn't want anyone to get hurt, and Paul McLaughlin plays the role with smooth gentleness but firm persuasion that I thought might have been more suited to Sam.

Gloria, the little girl, is played by either Holly McDonald or Rebekah Smyth (I'm not sure which - they alternate nights). She was is as child actors usually are - unnatural, exaggerated gestures and gabbled speech; too loud on some lines, inaudible on others; unable to read the nuances of the particular perfomrance and unable to adapt. I find children on stage a chore which has to be endured for plot purposes, but I generally wish they'd hurry up and get off so we can concentrate on the real acting.

The Lumiere review made me wonder if our differences are generational. I didn't feel that the first half dragged, nor did my three companions. It was all part of the set-up which you expect, and in return you get the pay-off later, which was very well done. She questions the modern relevance to which I would answer, it was entertaining and isn't that the purpose of theatre? Aren't home invasion and human vulnerability - needing to trust someone and rely upon them - still pertinent?

I also have no problem with nostalgia - not everything has to be new and ground-breaking. Sure, modern theatre eschews convoluted plots, but a lot of people still like them. There is a place for good old-fashioned drama, complete with red velvet curtain and footlights, just as there is for avant-garde, surrealist, Brechtian, improvisation and musical theatre.

Also, most people who pay to go the theatre are over 50, and they like dramatic suspense - they are the ones who have made The Mousetrap the longest-running show in the West End. It is not innovative or modish and it sticks to well-known conventions, but I would never dismiss its relevance simply because it didn't appeal to me. Is this a Gen X/Y thing?

Triumph of good

When we were kids, our uncle and aunt used to take us to the pantomime every year. It was our Christmas treat, and boy, what a treat; I loved it all.

We all dressed up in our best frocks (apart from my brother, obviously) and caught the train to London. I loved the noise and the bustle of the tube. I loved Theatreland with the evocative names: Drury Lane; Haymarket; Covent Garden; Palace; Lyceum; Playhouse.

I loved the plush carpets, the sweeping staircases, the grand foyers and the mirrored bars where one day I would be old enough to order gin and tonic for the interval. I loved the exorbitantly expensive ice creams in little tubs with tiny wooden paddles and the glossy programmes. I loved the ladies in furs and clouds of perfume and the men in suits and wreathes of cigar smoke.

But most of all, I loved it when the lights went down and the stories began. I loved the sets and the costumes; the dances and the songs; the men dressed as women and the women dressed as men. I loved shouting encouragement to the heroes and booing the villains.

It was formulaic of course, but it was magic and I believed in magic. For those two hours on a stage in central London, good triumphed and I supported it. In fact, it couldn't have happened without me.

Last weekend I went to a local pantomime here in Wellington. So many things are still the same, and although so many of us have grown up, I think we all want to believe in magic; the triumph of good and the thought that maybe, just maybe, we helped to make it happen.

Here is my review on the Lumiere site - Red Riding Hood

The Pohutukawa Tree

Last week I went to see The Pohutukawa Tree by Bruce Mason. I had heard of this play as a Kiwi classic, but had never seen it and didn't know the story. It is always hard to see plays that were written 50 years ago and try to understand what people must have felt about them at the time.

Much drama that was considered groundbreaking half a century ago now seems rather mundane. Despite this, I still found this to be a well-written and thought provoking play. The production was very good too. I'm glad that I have now seen it and can agree that it deserves its iconic status. I reviewed it for the Lumiere website.

Criticising the critic

Last weekend I went to see a play at Bats Theatre called Winter. I didn't like it very much as I thought it was awkward and pretentious. The dialogue was strained, stilted and completely unrealistic. It was the sort of thing that people write at drama school when they imagine that everyone else has the same over-earnest conversations they conduct in their own head.

I wrote a review for the Lumiere website, in which I presented my opinions. Immediately I am accused of not having a sense of humour, having ADD and having problems relating to people. I find this is the sort of vituperative diatribe that meets many reviewers in this town who say they don't like a play, which is usually written by a local and so their friends defend them.

Fair enough. We all have different opinions - otherwise those CSI programmes would cease to exist - but I find it frustrating when people assume that because you don't like something, you 'don't get it.' Yes, I got it; I just didn't like it. It's like when you don't laugh at someone's joke and they accuse you of not having a sense of humour - yes, I got it; I just didn't think it was funny!

This seems to me to be a very immature attidue; the sort of thing you thought when you were a teenager, but hopefully grew out of. Do we only appreciate reviews when they agree with our view? In which case, what is the point of a review?