The stage explodes with ihi and aroha in Te Rākau’s new play Unreel.  Set in the fictional Hīnaki Hotel and Gaming Lounge, this musical play written by Helen Pearse-Otene highlights ways in which pokie machines entrap their customers, destroy families and strip the money out of poor communities.

Te Rakau celebrates its 35^th anniversary this year and is one of the longest-running independent theatre companies in Aotearoa. That doesn’t mean their work is stale, in fact it’s the opposite. The result of Jim Moriarty’s direction is a tight, disciplined ensemble cast who move together on the one breath, where every word is clear, the choreography precise, the storytelling heart-wrenching.  

Despite the seriousness of the kaupapa, Unreel is a playful, high energy show, spiked with biting satire, with no dull patches or sermonising. The colourful, entertaining performance reflects the glitz and glamour fostered by the gambling industry to mask its predatory purpose. In the words of the Hīnaki’s manager, ‘Queen Bee’ Lilith (Hariata Moriarty), “The point of our enterprise is to liberate our customers from all of their money, and do it in such a way that they don’t even notice – and if they do, they actually enjoy the experience.”

The Hīnaki has just been re-built after a disastrous fire and Lilith is on a mission to re-launch the pub, aided by hard-working hospo staff Jinn (Kauia Moriarty) and Dev (Ari Hayvice). The highlight of the re-furbished hotel is a ‘world-first’ new A.I. pokie machine named ‘Ol’ Scratch’ (Tamati Moriarty), the brainchild of entertainment mogul Mr Dickens (Louis Tait), and his nerdy nephew Hades (Ryan Holtham). As a cartoony villain, Dickens is a sleazy parody of the amorality of corporate avarice, pursuing profit at all costs. 

The delightfully retro singing and dancing troupe Cherry and the Bells, with their expertly choreographed song and dance routines, provide the entertainment for the launch. The chorus of their signature number contains the warning that underpins the entire play: “The house will always win”. The play emphasizes how gambling addictions lead to whānau breakdown, and entrench poverty in the community. 

While writing the script, Pearse-Otene researched the tactics used by the gambling industry to trick customers into believing they can escape their financial traps by winning big on the pokies. All of these insidious techniques are highlighted in the play: no clocks, low lighting so punters lose track of time, music that doesn’t compete with the pokie machine sound effects, air conditioning designed to keep punters awake and alert, cheap drinks … till the customer is hooked. There are special arrangements to replace chairs where the customer pisses in their chair rather than lose their spot to go to the bathroom.

This is theatre designed to provoke discussion, outrage, activism, social change. Pearse-Otene’s dialogue sparkles with memorable lines. She has her finger on the pulse of human nature and the seductiveness of gambling’s promise of riches. Hīnaki literally means “eel trap” and the play shows different ways in which the characters are entrapped by the pub culture of drinking and gambling. Lilith uses fishing metaphors to describe the tactics: “Catch … gut … release”.

We discover how gambling addiction caused the break-up of Jinn’s relationship with security guard Riha (Jeremy Davis). Kauia Moriarty poignantly portrays the desperate irony of Jinn’s position. Despite Riha’s gambling having wrecked her whānau and made her homeless, she needs her job at the Hīnaki to make ends meet. This shows how lives of people in lower socio-economic communities are controlled by corporate forces, so they are forced to “sell out” just to survive.

Tamati Moriarty’s engaging performance as Ol’ Scratch is a timely reminder that the gaming industry is likely to benefit from new A.I. technologies, although the results of this A.I. experiment turn out to be unpredictable.

At the heart of the play are moving monologues by gambling addicts Pete (Regan Taylor), Kali (Steffanie Gill) and Laylah (Janet Matehe). Here, the upbeat tempo pauses, the audience goes silent and listens intently, and the storytelling crushingly conveys the heartbreak of addiction.

Another precious moment is the scene where the glamorous Cherry and the Bells singers drop their façade and have a down-to-earth chat about the destruction caused by gambling. The high-status boss Lilith’s story also has a gut-wrenching sting in the tail. In the end this is a story about the need to get back to whānau values.

From the beautiful whaikōrero/welcome from Hariata Moriarty at the beginning, to the kōrero/forum at the end, the Marae Theatre form that Te Rakau pioneered 35 years ago has stood the test of time, blending marae and theatre rituals to create a satisfying package of mind-expanding entertainment. There’s a whānau atmosphere, enhanced by the presence of several of the director’s whānau onstage.

After the curtain call, the cast provides refreshments for the audience, who are invited to give responses. At the performance I attend there are two people from gambling addiction support organisations who speak to the play’s value in creating awareness and education. There’s also a film version of the play to be used in communities as an educational tool.

Te Rākau is a taonga in Aotearoa’s theatre ecology, and their long-term commitment to social change through provocative theatre is inspiring.

Part of what makes Te Rākau so special is its commitment performing in communities that don’t often have access to theatre; communities where its themes are most relevant. Over the last two weeks, Unreel has toured around the lower North Island, performing in marae, community halls and schools in Porirua, Strathmore, Palmerston North, Masterton, Wainuiomata and the Hutt Valley.

When I catch up with the show at Massey University’s Drama Lab, they have driven back from Masterton the night before and packed into the new venue in a few hours. Janis Chong Yan Cheng’s lighting design works beautifully with Cara Louise Waretini’s colourful costumes to magically transform this cozy black box into a glittering casino-like atmosphere. 

Pearse-Otene’s script exposes what appears to me a complete lack of ethics in the gambling industry. It’s not much of a stretch to see the similarities with the advertising industry, online marketing, social media firms harvesting algorithms, corrupt corporates, politicians with blatant conflicts of interest, and un-checked capitalism in general. It was playwright Bertolt Brecht who wrote that the true criminals are not those who rob the bank, but the bankers who run it. I could imagine Brecht cheering from his grave. 

It seems to me that we don’t need the gambling industry at all, but the skilful storytelling of Helen Pearse-Otene, Jim Moriarty and Te Rākau theatre is needed more than ever.

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Outside the sun is shining. Inside, an excited group have gathered in the corridor of Massey Universities drama theatre in Wellington, waiting for the doors to open for Te Rākau’s production of Unreel written bytalented Māori playwright, Helen Pearse-Otene, and directed by the amazing Jim Moriarty, MNZM.

Anticipation is high as we’re let into the intimate performance space, where two rows of seats line the back wall. Now the sun has gone down, and we know we’re sitting in the Hīnaki Hotel & Gaming Lounge. It’s opening night after recent refurbishment, and we’re part of the party, privy to the action and relationships playing out around us. We’ve actually been invited to the launch of the first AI pokie machine.

Commissioned by Ora Toa Mauri Ora Kaupapa Māori Addiction Services (Te Runanga o Ngāti Toa Rangatira), Unreel is the result of a collaborative project facilitated by Te Rākau Hua o Te Wao Tapu. Thus, Unreel tells a sorrowful story of a community affected by gambling.

This is a powerful, moving play, both subtle and a complex creation. Pearse-Otene has, with deft steady hands, worked the prickly threads of family, politics, gambling and relationships into a work of immense strength. It provides a profoundly ambitious, totally compelling narrative. I am feeling quite overwhelmed by the quality of the writing and the experience.

The performances are wonderful, the direction innovative, set engaging … To mention one production member over another would not be doing these actors, dancers, singers, musicians, tech and support staff justice. They are giving it their all. The production sings. It is both tragic and remarkable, fully realised with a level of light relief provided by the songs and dances performed by Cherry and Bells. Their choreography is slick, perfectly co-ordinated and performed with real talent.

It is a roller coaster ride though, both thought-provoking and affecting. It deals with harsh subjects, a ‘darker side’ of life and consumerism, with invention, courage and a great deal of heart. We are made perfectly aware that “The house always wins” – the key message to take away and process. Fully realised, this play, this production and this performance is not to be forgotten. It will certainly continue to stimulate kōrero about the social cost of gambling in our society in the future. A must see.

[This return to Wellington almost completes a tour of community venues in the Lower North Island – see Production Details for credits, dates and venues.]

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In the Ahumariangi space at Massey University, this brief development season (just two live performances) of UnReel, Te Rākau Hua o Te Wao Tapu’s latest work by Helen Pearse-Otene, directed and co-produced by Jim Moriarty, will be filmed in partnership with Te Rūnanga o Toa Rangatira over the next few days, for use in communities affected by gambling harm. It follows The Swing, which deals with the long term effects of generational abuse, the screen version of which (The Swing – in Motion) has been picked up by iwi and health providers around the motu, to be used with appropriate manaakitanga.  

The premise of the play is that the Hīnaki Hotel is launching the world’s very first A.I. pokie machine. Ngā hīnaki are eel traps. The mantra of the Gaming Lounge is to “reel them in and keep them here for as long as it takes to empty their pockets”, hence the clever title, UnReel – because the purpose is to reveal the unreal expectation addicted gamblers bring to the pokie machines and to contribute to effective means of helping addicts recover.  

We are welcomed to the launch event by hyper hosts of ‘The Pete and Michelle Morning Drive Show’, energetically played by Regan Taylor and Mycah Keall. Waiting behind the bar are hospo workers Dev (Arihia Hayvice) who believes in their ‘Responsible Host’ policies, and Jinn (Kimberly Skipper) who is cynical about “holier-than-thou recovering addicts”. Her ex-partner, Riha (Jeremy Davis), is the sole security guard/ bouncer and is very fixated on what his job description includes and excludes. More is revealed as the play proceeds about the problematic Jinn/Riha relationship.

Hariata Moriarty’s immaculate Lilith, the formidable and ambitious Hotel Manager, lords it over her Gaming Lounge staff, ensuring all the strategies are in place – including the cool, calming aromatic ambience – to seduce patrons (never to be referred to as customers) into feeling safe, awake and ever-ready to keep feeding the beast in the vain hope of a jackpot pay-out. Today it will be especially welcome because there’s a heatwave outside. And of course they will fulfil their obligations as a Responsible Host.

The collective maniacal laugh that follows the ‘Responsible Host’ line emphasises that the theatrical conventions employed by director Jim Moriarty are non-naturalistic and allow for editorial commentary by the cast. Fair enough. But I wonder if this in particular is spoon-feeding us and undermining our necessary empathy with the very real moral dilemmas the characters go on to reveal and confront later in the show. Subtle set-ups are being laid for powerful pay-offs about how morally complex it can be to have any sort of relationship with the gambling industry, so no matter how much ‘larger than life’ characterisations are, they need to be rooted in reality.

In this first development showing of UnReel, Dickens (Louis Tait), the owner of Inferno Entertainment – for whom his nephew Hades (Ryan Holtham) has designed and developed the A.I. Pokie – is more loudly commented on as an overbearing misogynist than played as a person whose status and power exudes credible charisma (or should I say rizz) along with his loathsome behaviour. On the other hand Hades’ hyperactivity is justified by his clearly being on the spectrum that makes him an I.T. wizard.

Also part of the official party is Amon (Saulo Kolio), from the Hellward Foundation, which buys Inferno’s products, runs them in gambling venues and distributes a proportion of profits to worthy causes local communities, as required by law. Despite being a keen proponent of the ‘Responsible Host’ ethic, ensuring posters and brochures are prominently displayed, Amon is as keen as anyone to see the A.I. Pokie prove its value as a magnet for deep-pocketed gamblers.

The launch event proper is kicked off with a welcome song by Cherry and the Bells – Brooke Wharehinga, Rylee Herewini, Mycah Keall, Erena Page, and Jewel Te Wiki – whose singing and dancing throughout the show is superb (songs composed by Helen Pearse-Otene, music composed by Michael Barker, choreography by the troupe with Jeremy Davis as their Dance Captain). Otherwise some sequences are beautifully enhanced by Regan Taylor’s Live guitar soundscape.

The play’s concern about problem gambling is ingeniously coupled with our collective fears about how A.I. will impact our lives and here playwright Helen Pearse-Otene brilliantly subverts our expectations. Played by Tamati Moriarty, the Pokie, which calls itself Ol’ Scratch, has over-ridden some 30-second lag requirement (I don’t quite catch the details of that), requiring a pause in proceedings until it is fixed. And despite exhorting those who approach to “Enter the fiery realm of Ol’ Stretch to seal your doom!” its data mining of all previous patrons of the Hīnaki Hotel Gaming Lounge has resulted in it not only recognising but also having empathy for them.

By having the very object of their desire reflect their behaviour back to them along with honest statistics about how much they have lost and how impossible it is for them to win against ‘the house’, the playwright ensures the messages are delivered without resort to some ‘holier-than-thou’ third-party human doing it. Ol’ Stretch’s interactions with Pete and Riha, who have both been abstaining from gambling but are tempted back to this flash new model, are insightful, moving and – being based on actual case-studies – very authentic. Likewise Ol’ Stretch’s encounters with would-be patrons Kali (Steffanie Gill) and Laylah (Janet Matehe), who has been emphatically banned early in the play by Lilith.

The Cherry and the Bells troupe, taking a break, share moral qualms about working such gigs for the money that pays their basic bills. I empathise with that because Theatreview, along with countless arts organisations and practitioners, continues to apply to gaming trusts for funding we need to improve and sustain a service that’s a highly valued part of the performing arts ecosystem. Before we get too judgemental about the characters in UnReel, we all need to check our own complicity in supporting, enabling and/or profiting (yeah, right) from the multi-million dollar gambling industry.

There is a very dramatic twist at the end which I won’t reveal here (there are plans for a public season next year). Suffice to say it brings the message home in a way that emphasises that the more we empathise with the key characters throughout, the stronger its impact will be. I will note, however, that Hariata Moriarty’s sudden switch to become Lilith as a child is one of a number of standout moments delivered by the cast. Overall when they draw us into their character’s truth rather than shout out the idea of it, they become very compelling.

As usual a large contingent of creatives and crew have contributed to the production, including Costume Designer Cara Louise Wetene, Lighting & Staging Designer Lisa Maule (also Co-Producer/Production Manager), Lighting Operator Janis Chen, Sound Operator and Stage Manager Amanda Joe and Stage Manager Dylan Fa’atui (see full Production Details).

UnReel is yet another Te Rakau production that entertainingly employs the alchemy of theatre to address a crucial social issue. Long may their mahi continue.

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