ANOTHER DAY IN PARADISE
Newtown Community & Cultural Centre, Wellington
28/02/2020 - 01/03/2020
Production Details
Where is Paradise? And how did she end up so far from it?
When Phil Collins sang those four words, he did not know that he would inspire a chubby girl from New Zealand to become a comedian.
Another Day in Paradise asks what we think will make us happy: is it achievement? food? sex? transcendence? Is it shaving your moustache off? And what about when these things don’t work?
A surreal stand-up adventure, ADIP will make you laugh about the thing you’ve been trying not to think about, the big one: what if trying really hard doesn’t fix depression? What if that Paradise doesn’t exist?
And what if that’s a good thing?
Newtown Community and Cultural Centre, 7 Colombo Street, Newtown
Friday 28 February – Sunday 1 March 2020
7:00pm
Price General Admission $10.00 Concession $5.00 Fringe Addict $7.00
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Theatre , Stand-up comedy , Solo ,
1 hr
Honest questioning and reflection
Review by Margaret Austin 29th Feb 2020
Another Day in Paradise, one of the first shows of the Fringe Festival, takes place at the Newtown Community Centre.
Chatting with director Shauwn Keil, I learn that he and performer Kirstin Crowe (who also wrote the show) met during a production of Comedy of Errors. Keil’s descriptor of what I’m about to see runs: “It’s the coolest little rant/ monologue/ tangent of the moment.”
Ah! – does that mean I’ll get Much Ado about Something?
Our performer is already stage centre – a young woman fetchingly outfitted in a black leotard with a bra top of – well – plumage. I recall the programme note and its reference to parrots. She seems to be asleep. Then she raises her head, emits a few squawks, and we’re off.
Because we audience members are seated in a circle around her, it’s hard for our performer to ignore us. But she very early on signals that that’s the last thing she’s after. A persuasive combination of coaxing and confronting results in some amusing exchanges.
Crowe’s material is straight from her life as a young female trying to come to terms with the possibilities before her. She presents us with a smorgasbord: she’s had a go at everything from sex work (not her thing), women’s groups for food addiction (yuk), and even religion, which gives rise to one of her best send-up lines.
This performance is saved from descent into self-indulgence by interaction with the audience and deft delivery. We get honest questioning and reflection, even a wry quality which suggests a maturity of attitude we mightn’t expect.
Lighting is ingeniously provided by two torches, wielded by the multi-talented Keil.
The only quibble I have is with the space which tends to create echo, making some of Crowe’s words inaudible. Slowing delivery down a tad might help.
Oh, and I’m left in doubt about her relationship with her feathered friend. If she’s squawking truth about giving up for good, as the programme note attests, I think that’s for the birds.
“Who’s this show for? It’s for me,” is her concluding confession, and one we easily forgive.
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