This 50-minute presentation is as savvy and powerful a piece of theatre as I have ever seen. It was put together some time ago but has hitherto has not been seen in Wellington. It is an important work. This packed and triumphant opening night in the Capital has now rectified the previous omission for the good of all.

The Griegol is born out of the noble traditions of silent movies and shadow, mime and puppet theatre. It is partly billed as a dark fantasy for brave children. I have now concluded that adults are at best no more than brave children.

Its name might suggest a dragon-like creature that is looking for a passing hero to slay it during the school holidays. By no means does that glib assessment apply to this all-too-real Griegol.

Through it we come not to be titillated but enthralled and changed. This is the pinnacle of theatre using everything in the artistic armoury except the spoken word. It bounces like a pinball between doom-laden live music, crackling canned music, shadows, moving and still cartoonish backgrounds, actors communicating by precise movement, smoke, bubbles with smoke in them and montage. Life is artfully compressed into this stunning array of techniques.  The audience is barely allowed space or time to breathe.

As the first four letters of its enigmatic title might suggest, the theme is one of grief. It is the grief of a young child who once lost their mum and has now lost the alluring grandma who ‘stood in’ for her. I am loath to dabble in the details. The production is so impressively peppered with surprise and delight, with fear and apprehension, with sensational tours de force, that to dissect it may be to blow it away.

Let’s just say that when we are young and lose someone precious, when our world comes tumbling down in an instant, we are oddly left out. Grief is for older people to talk and muscle their way through socially. The kid will simply ‘get over it’. Well probably, but……… they’re confronting the most terrifying and isolating fact of life (that those we love die) and must wrestle day and night with the Griegol.

Trick of the Light gives us the child’s perspective on how that all unfolds as banality merges into fantasy. The terse titles on screen at the back spell out the bland days of the week from the day when Grandma passes then onto to her funeral. The rituals of an older person’s death command the high ground. The adults’ immersion in the costly corpse disposal industry muffles more down-to-earth grief. High on the list of ‘things to do’ is to locate photos for the perfunctory order of service.

Then the drama comes in like an anvil falling from a great height into a swimming pool.  The Griegol strikes per medium of real smoke and cartoon fumes. It curls into shapes that terrify the hell out of the child – and, might I say, the audience – be that young or old. It’s one of those unspoken dreads; an invisible killer. It haunts the sleeping hours of the little one; it stalks their every moment. There is no let up for them – or us.

There are shadow scenes where we learn the backstory of what a wonderful Grandma that deceased lady was: wise, mischievous and funny. She also thinks ahead about her treasured grandchild. We trust the sneering Griegol will be no match for her. She will be as much a shining star after her death as she was in life.

As for the young one, their puppet version is a palpable triumph: life sized and utterly appealing. Their two operating minders skilfully navigate them around the stage (we mentally photo-shop them out) giving a performance that no child of that age could ever be expected to give. It is both touching and uncannily real. They often flee the imposed banal world of Wednesday and Thursday bounding into the arms of their bemused father in a manner that simply melts the human heart. We truly see our former panicked selves in those exquisite moments, courtesy of a paper doll. Art, yet again, tells a lie in order to tell the truth.

Attempts to distracting the child from their overwhelming grief are to no avail. However they do introduce a ginger (marionette) cat that plays a most impressive part in the fable. It does all the things a real cat does and a few other things besides, like walking, hilariously, on its back legs. It is incongruously funny, as is so much of The Griegol.  And here’s the thing: we get horror and literally hysterical humour in the same package. As with real grief, it’s what gets us and the little one through. We all find ourselves laughing insanely so that we don’t have to cry.

This reminds me so much of the cinema of Alfred Hitchcock, a director who started life as a maker of silent movies. Silent, of course, being a grossly inadequate word given that music and sound effects were so much the grist of the heavily authored pieces that Hitchcock came up with. So was humour and the risible grotesqueries of everyday life. He would have hearty approved of The Griegol, which glories in showing raw emotion not just telling linear storylines. He would also have envied its director for having a puppet star who doesn’t complain and who serves up poignant facial and bodily expressions bang on cue.

The Griegol relies on a stellar team of creatives to deliver these surefooted goods. Director (and co-writer with Ralph McCubbin Howell) Hannah Smith has every right to be proud or her work. She also contributes a superb set of background illustrations that do so much to lay out an everyday view of life – replete with Tip Top signs – that contrasts so effectively with the gargantuan events playing out in front of it. The non-speaking cast of Stevie Hancox-Monk, Paul Waggott, Elle Wootton and Ralph McCubbin Howell are mightily adept in the many diverse stage disciplines they are called upon to employ.

Jon Coddington is the brains behind those crucial puppets. If only we could produce real children and cats like those two do. Musician (and sometimes effects man) Tristan Carter plays a mean fiddle that some might characterise as loudly intrusive. I don’t because without that the overbearing terror that it marks, the piece would be sorely diminished.

The technical team deserves immense praise. Like an intricate firing of a moonshot rocket, the whole 50 minutes here depend on split second timing in the interplay of lighting, sound and action. Every moment is a special effect. Top honours go to Sylvie McCreanor (SM) Ella Madsen Brough (Operator), Marcus McShane (Lighting Design) and Brad Gledhill (Tech Design).

At the conclusion, the huge audience sits there cheering with tears rolling down the faces of many of them. The highly polished event has struck the bullseye but I am left wondering (just a little) about how young a person might have to be before coming to it. (There’s a degree of irony in that. In real life, children are routinely exposed to the rigours of the ubiquitous Griegol with scant help or, even, comment. Does putting it into a theatre alter that very much?)

With parental permission I asked for the views of an eight year old boy who had sat through the whole presentation. He accepted that there were moments when he might well have run from his seat, but he hadn’t. The powerful music had really got to him emotionally and was clearly staying with him as we spoke. I’m sure he’ll be alright. He espoused the view that maybe ten- to twelve-year-olds might weather the experience a little better but that depends on all sort of other things. Having a perceptive and brave parent (as this boy had) was, maybe, the key.

So there you have it.  An almost flawless production now adorns our capital city. Please, I beg of you, do go along. The rest of your life depends on it.
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Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer

Trick Of The Light Theatre brings their newest creation, The Griegol, to Hāwea Flat Hall as part of Wānaka’s Festival of Colour. Hannah Smith, Director, and story creator along with Ralph McCubbin Howell, are the creative forces behind this one. The two 9 year old boys I have brought with me and their friend, all of us amateur theatre goers in this small rural township, are all captivated for the show’s entirety.

Striking music begins The Griegol and its 50 minutes of dynamism, cleverness and beauty. The bold sound segues to more melodic music accompanying actors in the middle of the stage with an animated screen behind. From the right of the stage the distinct sound of a violin emerges and live musician, Tristan Carter, appears softly lighted amongst an otherwise dark atmosphere.

A small flickering candle in front of Granny’s portrait and our violinist, introduces us to grief, one of the main themes of the play. Granny’s death gives rise to The Griegol, cleverly played out on screen through stop-motion animation by Ralph McCubbin Howell, and what we see the cast – Elle Wootton, Paul Waggott, Stevie Hancox-Monk, Ralph McCubbin Howell – doing stage left involving smoke, lifting and placing of screens, cranking and other intriguing puppetry techniques.    

It’s about half way through the performance that I begin to understand the multifaceted collaboration of everything happening on stage. I am in awe of the professionalism and talent while simultaneously engaging with the story playing out in front of us, without words.  

The protagonist, thoughtfully cast in the form of a young, expressionless girl puppet, allows us to decide the puppet’s perspective and how she navigates her grief. The girl’s puppeteer/actor, at one with the puppet, helps any searching minds in the audience with her subtle expressions in lieu of dialogue.

Griegol, the metaphorical monster of death, the unknown and the frightening, features and pervades in myriad ways amongst the characters, reaching its highest point of intensity in a darkly chaotic and magical dream scene of the child’s. The play’s darkest moment gives way to the beginning of a new theme, beautifully played out in the story with a symbolic key unlocking love and connection. A release of tension ensues for the audience and perhaps a moment of catharsis for anyone who has experienced grief and its flipside; this is a moving moment for me. All of this is juxtaposed against the connected technical expertise, acting and brilliance of the performance itself.

The musical score, Tane Upjohn-Beatson, with its live musical accompaniment, as well as real time sound – such as falling books on the floor after we see silhouettes on screen fly animated ones through the air – weaves throughout the play as seamlessly as all the actors move between their acting roles and technically animation. There are particularly clever moments of connection throughout the performance between actors, characters, animators and the musician, that delight. I notice the father using his computer keyboard in unison with the violin, a small example of such connectedness.

Grief is poignantly described through the perspective of a father and daughter, independently and in relation to each other – loss and connection being both sides of the same coin, and the play beautifully describes this. The dark and eerie gives way to an uplifting end to the story. The score and carefully curated atmosphere carries it all.  

Concluding the performance, the cast generously invite and share their process and tricks of the light with the audience. I’m not sure if this is the benefit of living in the small settlement of Hāwea Flat where, at our local community hall, the setting is intimate, or if this is an offering at all performances of The Griegol. Nevertheless, it is all part of a touching, delightful and exciting theatrical experience.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer