“Welcome to the flat viewing,” say the friendly residents of 1 Kent Terrace as we flood on into the Heyday Dome. It’s crowded in here, and loud, but that’s just the Wellington housing market these days. There’s seating for about half of us, the rest of us stand and chat with the performers, who engage us enthusiastically in conversation like we’re already friends.

I’m happy with my current place but I play along and ask about the wi-fi, sun, and current flatmates. Some people are playing beer pong and invite me to join – I sink two and miss four.

The outgoing tenant, Leah (Amy McClean), calls the viewing to order. She’s surprised to see so many of us here – and, weirdly, so many people she knows personally. We’re treated to a quick run-down of the flat and its history (former embassy, hence this ballroom). The other flatmates address us in turn and they bounce off each other easily, with a dry scarfie-style wit shining through.

Then, with the unwitting Leah lured out of the room, the revelation comes (is this a spoiler? It’s in the title) – this is no ordinary flat viewing. It’s a surprise party! I guess I should have seen this coming but I feel a mild sense of deflation at having the circumstances shift on me like this – after all, in this scenario I should already know what’s going on. No wonder my game attempts to get info about fibre broadband didn’t really lead anywhere (though they were accepted graciously).  

The big reveal to Leah is set for one hour’s time. Until then, we’re free to explore the top floors of BATS – aka ‘the flat’ – without letting her know what’s up. The whole premise requires a fair bit of suspension of disbelief: is Leah really going to buy that 100 people are making snacks and inflating balloons in her house for an hour without twigging? We’re clearly not in a strictly realistic space here.

So I go exploring, sometimes with the friends I came to the show with, sometimes on my own. There’s a chess set with conversation-starter cards ranging from easy asks (“what are three things we appear to have in common”) to the more risky (“what would it take to ruin our friendship”).  Of course, you only need to ask the questions you feel comfortable asking, and you can just observe if you like. All the interactivity is considerately managed in this way.

In another room, I get to be part of an arts and craft project, distributing tape and cardboard (another great way to make a guest feel at ease – give them job to do while they meet people). Then, on a nearby stage, two performers start a performance that is part food network presentation, part interactive game show. It’s weird, but there’s a self-awareness to the absurdity, and I laugh out loud at some particularly strange observations about gravity and the earth’s core.

In another room there’s a guy who’s into politics, then conspiracy theories. There’s origami and inflatables, and loose pages of script to do with what you will.

If this sounds like an unexpected bag of things to call a show – it is. That’s perhaps not surprising given the fact that there are four directors, each taking responsibility for a different aspect of the presentation. However the performers are all charismatic and confident, and they’re all actually listening rather than railroading me. It feels like this event is genuinely about offering the audience something enriching, rather than just showcasing performances.  I enjoy getting involved and exploring from room to room. I’m worried an hour will feel like a long time, but it doesn’t.

We’re called back in the ballroom for the big reveal. Our participation here is more dialled back and I’m personally not invested enough in the characters (I only got glimpses of most of them over the course of the show) to get swept up in the final moments, well-choreographed as they are.

What I find genuinely refreshing about The Party was how it acknowledges and builds on the fact that its audience is already a community, each of us knowing at least a few other people. It creates a space where we could explore the idea of friendship, connect with others and take emotional risks (if we so choose), within a safe framework. I appreciate the way I get a chance to talk with and work alongside people I might not otherwise have connected with, introvert that I am.

Afterwards, I reflect on the responsibility that comes with organising a gathering and how, in my experience, something as simple as a game of giant Jenga can turn a staid work party into something actually fun. Theatre kids tend to get that idea, but the rest of us can learn from it. Whether or not I see more theatre that feels like this, I want to go to more parties that feel like The Party. 

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