Realm of Tears is the final show of Week One of Te Rerenga o Tere Tempo Dance Festival. It plays for one show only in the Loft at Q Theatre at 6pm.

Realm of Tears has previously had a well-received, three-night airing at The Basement in March of this year. I suspect the Basement might have been a much more acoustically ‘live’ space than the Q Theatre Loft with its notoriously dead acoustic for anyone speaking upsatge.

Described by ‘Bad Apples’ reviewer Zech Soakai as a ‘work that reflects our collective need to feel our feelings, go to therapy, and still find ways to make sense of all of life’s pieces as they fall’ my interest is immediately piqued.

Very good, so far.

Zech goes on to say that, on opening night at The Basement, ‘Realm of Tears hit all the emotional notes it needed to. There was so much honesty and care taken in how the show was constructed that it was enough to offer me a rare moment of reprieve on a Tuesday night and time to refocus as a fellow tangiweto.’

Nice that … oh, and ‘tangiweto’ (I had to look it up) means, when used as a verb, ‘to fret or cry’ but when used as a noun as it is in this context, it means ‘a crybaby, a sook, or a sooky-bubba.’ I get all that, an emo to you and me, though ‘sooky-bubba’ is a term I haven’t heard for many decades.

Have to say, it’s excellent that it’s made a comeback.

More important though, is Soakai’s positioning statement that describes Realm of Tears as ‘afantasy rom-com minus the love interest, cleverly put together to tell a coming-of-age tale that reflects the late Millennial/early Gen Z’s growing pains in our late-stage capitalist world.’ 

Rewa Fowles has, Soakai says,‘managed to put together pieces of poetry and movement that are very specific to our time.’

Made for ‘sooky-bubba’s’ then, in archaic, yet abruptly modern, parlance.

I wonder quietly whether I am quite the ideal audience for this work being a few (thousand) days older than even Soakai’s ‘late Millennials.’

I am, however, looking forward to the show.

The Q Theatre website describes the show as ‘an ethereal space carved out by Rewa Fowles (she/they) who self-describes as takatāpui Māori, where the marginalised are invited to unapologetically feel, express, and thrive. This world, we are told, is crafted by Fowles, and ‘beckons us to embrace our imperfections, to indulge in pleasure and sensuality, to laugh at intrusive thoughts, to step into rage, to feel lost, and to reflect in compassion and accountability.’

Let’s heal, then, but let’s enjoy the blissful angst, the sorrow, and the pain for as long as possible first.

The website goes on ‘in a reality where capitalism and individualism dominate, where therapy is weaponised and healing journeys are intellectualised rather than felt, Realm of Tears offers a rare sanctuary. It is a space to breathe deeply, to navigate the complex sensations of existence, and to explore where these emotions lead us.’

I learn that Rewa Fowles is a multidisciplinary takatāpui solo artist known for work that engages with identity and mental health, work that challenges us to confront difficult conversations. Her practice, both artistic and academic, is grounded in themes of grief, identity, and culturally responsive dance movement therapy. Realm of Tears is a continuation of this journey’ we are told, ‘blending (as it does) the therapeutic and the artistic to offer a truly unique experience.’

Realm of Tears is directed and choreographed by Renee Wiki (Te Aupōuri, Ngāti Kurī, Te Rarawa, Ngāpuhi, Kūki Āirani). Wiki has a background in Pacific Contemporary Dance and ‘experience in dynamic, thought-provoking projects.’

In performance, Realm of Tears is largely what it says it is, an appealing amalgam of language and movement performed by a talented young person of considerable promise and directed by someone who has strong ideas about moving bodies in space and mostly does this well.

The set is attractive and functional – four floor-to-ceiling drapes as end pieces over a highlighted rectangular white floor on which almost all the action takes place – plus a square white, multi-purpose box mostly used as a seat. Setting any show in the round with audience on all sides is a nice idea but notoriously difficult for a solo performer to handle, hard enough for an ensemble of experienced performers even with a skilled director.

Not a grizzle, and ten out of ten for biting the bullet and fronting this challenge.

I’m drawn in by the text – it’s evocative, delicate at times, angry at others, too often inaudible – and I’m excited by the somewhat idiosyncratic dance structures – Fowles has the most expressive hands – and drawn deep into the physicals largely because the dance sequences happen in the centre of the white rectangle where I have full clarity of vision.

The soundscape is excellent, the projections impressive, evoking, as they do, the popular lava lamps of a somewhat pre- millennial 1973. It’s the first time since I last enjoyed Lemi Ponifasio’s butoh work that I’ve felt those deep bass notes reverberate, resonate, and shake a space as they did in Realm of Tears.

Thanks for those fine memories of really great work.

While there is much to celebrate in Realm of Tears, I left the building only partly satisfied, largely because the most basic rule – ‘be seen and be heard’ – was sometimes missing. Yes, working in the round is challenging, but Fowles spent far too much time out of sight behind drapes and largely inaudible to fully hold my attention. I’m assured by my guests that audibility was not a problem for them and the regular bursts of laughter from around the room certainly support this.

While out of sight is also out of mind, I feel that these visual shortcomings can be readily fixed to enable this otherwise fascinating work to be fully appreciated, even by very early late millennials, and even earlier, early Gen Z’s like me.

Fowles and Wiki are excellent young talents, and I wish them all the very best for future endeavours.

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