Penumbra will speak volumes to many New Zealanders, through its personal inter-generational, multi-cultural stories, which incorporate defining moments from our country’s recent history. Because the content comes largely from the ideas and experiences of bright, fresh New Zealand minds, younger generations in particular, will empathise with Penumbra.

We follow the lives of 3 siblings – Judith, Harmen and Annamieke van Dooren – which are shaped by the Mâori, Asian and European New Zealanders they meet, as they navigate the profound and accelerated changes within New Zealand’s social, economic and political landscape, from 1966 through to 1999.

The issues are obvious yet rich, reminding me that we all came to these islands from some other country, and have rapidly, sometimes hazardously and brutally, tried to fuse these external influences and cultures, to become one unsteady nation.

Grappling with issues such the clash of generations and cultures; racially mixed relationships; pregnancy out of wedlock; drug dependency along with looking for love in all the wrong places and moving from country to country, all as attempts to numb deep-seated childhood pain and loss of identity; the dislocation from England and her pleasantries that people experienced, as they tried to cope with the harsher aspects of Rural New Zealand; the random treatment of European immigrants by our Government; the draconian response of Muldoon’s Government in 1978 to the Bastion Point occupation (and the surprising disclosure that in terms of ethnicity, there were as many pakeha as there were Mâori making The Point theirs); career-obsessed men in the 80’s attempting to balance work with parenting; and the emptiness of ecstasy…

There is no doubt, therefore, that Penumbra is significant and far-reaching, in terms of an historical reference and commentary, from young contemporary New Zealanders’ perspectives.

However, while Penumbra could have been an iconic timeless work, overall it falls short of its full potential due to uneven performances and pace, which at times is painfully slow and pedestrian, with many scenes (and scene transitions) dragging on well after their point has been made. As Penumbra made the progression from devised student production at Toi Whakaari New Zealand Drama School, (with a large input from the class of 2004: obviously a very dynamic year), to headline work at an International Arts Festival, judicious direction and editing needed to occur.

Other isolated technical devices, such as using torches, suitcases and dolls to tell one back-story, fail to connect with the narrative. A plank and some wooden ends used to play out Abel Tasman’s unfortunate visit to Golden Bay, while useful to reinforce the Dutch connection of our characters, fails to give any dramatic justice to Tasman’s contribution to our nation’s history. It feels gratuitous.

That said, the large collaborative creative team, have much to be proud of.

Designer Penny Fitt makes full and excellent use of Skycity’s expansive stage, with most of her impressive tableaux or scenes – suitably indicative of the time and location represented – complementing the story very well.

The opening set of lime and terracotta arches and curves, depicting Los Angeles International Airport in 1966, could be straight from, ‘Catch Me if You Can’. By immediate contrast, the next scene, the family farm house in the Wairarapa, staged as a isolated box with old furnishings, with railway lines running through it, (appropriately the railway lines are the permanent fixture of the set), is very affective. When the broken siblings return to the home in need of family support, their approach and departure looks like walking the gang-plank, as they face the judgement then rejection of their mother.

Costumes are equally clever, in particular the use of colour: bold red airline hostesses uniforms depict the confidence of international travel, and of our young leading lady, as she steps onto the world stage. Embracing it all as her oyster, she ditches the muted teal tones of her old Air New Zealand uniform. Other youths depicted abroad exude similar confidence and flair, notably Lawrence the leader of the Mâori show band, in a flashy white suit and bow tie.

Back in New Zealand, the costuming of Judith’s mother in the Wairarapa in 1969 is suitably conservative and dull. In later decades Fitt balances New Zealand’s tendency towards no fuss comfortable clothes, with trademark fashion statements of each decade, to a tee.

Lighting by Vanda Karolczak is mostly good, though patchy at times, resulting in some scenes with key character development being under lit. However, her use of the cyc is admirable and the solar eclipse of 1999 is climatic and suitably dominating.

Script co-ordination by David Geary ensures the dialogue is engaging, well researched, and very much in the vernacular of the time. The script throughout the 80’s, especially Kevin Swanson’s lines, is particularly entertaining.

Music (by Daniel Baker, Mathew Sutter, Broken Chord, Mark Dancigers, Laughton Kora and others) plays an important supporting role, with the use of original composition and sound scape, as well as iconic covers that define their time, such as Bob Marley’s ‘One Love’ and Hello Sailor’s ‘Blue Lady’.

The cast has a strong core. Nick Dunbar gives an extraordinary performance as the complex and lost Harmen van Doorman. Jessie Alsop and Tahi Mapp-Borren deliver their best work alongside Dunbar, playing his sisters.

Tim Spite relishes bringing Kevin Swanson, a cocky stock-market shark clutching his 1980’s brick, to the stage with full noise. Mark Ruka delivers emotional punch as he tries to reconcile his whanau commitments with his political and personal interests, in the midst of the Bastion Point occupation.

The colourful characterisations from Abby Marment: gushing Peggy, strangely stylised Queen Elizabeth II, upfront Dutch landlady and irrepressible Sophie, are each as engaging as they are enjoyable to watch.

Te Kohe Tuhaka portrays Lawrence Hiku as a well crafted dead-cert for the young Howard Morrison, complete with one-dimensional jokes, smooth crooning for the ladies and cheesy grin. When we meet the deflated Lawrence back in New Zealand, Tuhaka brings new depth to his performance. His interplay with Sam Selliman playing Trish Chan, is entertaining, real and very effective, with the actors feeding off each other naturally in their key car scenes.

Madeline McNamara playing the emotionally locked up matriarch, struggling to articulate her profound sense of loss and regret, is moving in her later scenes. Katlyn Wong shows good craft as her character Alex Wu balances necessary deference to her culture and tradition, with her strong personality.

However, some scenes, such as the two hander to show mother-daughter conflict between Grace and Annamieke, are awkward to watch, as the actors stumble through clumsy blocking and struggle to find the right connection and between text, context and characters.

Ultimately, this large gifted group need to trim Penumbra, to make it the unforgettable New Zealand theatrical experience that it could be. Despite that, like most in the audience on Tuesday night, I came away moved. Even with the flaws, it is still a touching piece of theatre.

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