Would you believe a New Zealand prime minister called Wallace Norman with a Minister of Defence called Tim Tambly recently separated from his Australian wife Karen Tambly-Legs? And a top-secret Black Ops team?

Force Norman is set in 1974 when the Vietnam War was continuing well past its use-by date, the president of the USA, Richard Millhouse Nixon, resigned in the wake of the Watergate scandal, and Wallace (Bill) Rowling superseded a prematurely deceased Norman Kirk as Labour Prime Minister (hence the fictitious Wallace Norman). And although NZ had officially protested nuclear testing in the Pacific (1972), we were still a decade away from formulating ‘Nuclear Free New Zealand’ as a policy, let alone in legislation.

It’s an era in history that has clearly captured the fervid imaginations of Nick Gibb and Rhys Mathewson, better known as very talented stand-up comedians. Neither were even born in the 1970s, let alone tuned into the zeitgeist. Maybe a passionate history teacher inspired them and/or they share a love of spy novels (think John Le Carre rather than Ian Fleming) and I’d guess they watched Get Smart as kids.

However it happened, their grasp of the era is impressive to one who does recollect those times – and all the better for being totally rooted in New Zealand, including Stewart Island and Antarctica, albeit with crucial connections to Lybia’s Muammar Gadaffi and his private zoo.

The opening scene involves a Hungarian Nesting Doll at auction (and a bowl of lettuce and a Harvey Wallbanger but they are beside the point) and establishes the characters we will come to know as Black Ops operatives Rug Tank with his eyepatch (Gibb) and Mark Hardigan with his green beret (Mathewson). Then, in a classic spy thriller trope, it suddenly morphs into a dramatic shoot-out …

Presumably this is the covert assassination plot referred to in the next scene, between Wallace Norman PM (Gibb), and a drunk and self-pitying Tim Tambly MoD (Mathewson) because his wife, Karen, has left him. Tim has serious misdemeanours to confess … 

Continuing to pay close attention – because audiences intuitively know when things are being set up that will pay off later and most of us like to be up with the play, especially when mysteries born of subterfuge are in the offing – I duly note there is, or was, an Australian Minister of the Environment called Craig Legs. And now I have to ask what relation was he to Karen and why was he a target, given his assassination (which somehow does not spark off a diplomatic crisis and is never referred to again) seems to be the incident that incites the rest of the convoluted plot.

There are certainly set-ups that pay off handsomely (the nesting doll; the eye patch) and my advice to future audiences is to just let the swirling turmoil of actions and interactions wash over you because once the tide recedes, what’s left and of value will become clear. Sort of.  

As always, the question is: are the characters there to serve the story or has the story evolved to create a platform for comedic performances? The latter I’d say in this case. As stand-up comedians both Mathewson and Gibb have traded in long form stories before but in that mode they are constantly able to ‘read the room’ and modulate accordingly. Here they are more deeply immersed in action, interaction and their transitions between characters, so the less the story impedes our enjoyment of the performances and the script’s many beautifully crafted lines of dialogue, the better.

The publicity flyer does mention “A plot too convoluted to summarise…” and of course that’s part of the genre that is being explored and exploited here. Nevertheless some judicious script editing, and directorial input to bring focus and emphasis where it is needed, would go a long way towards giving Force Norman a longer life. Especially if the story itself manages to resonate beyond its immediate concerns by distilling some essence of human behaviour.

The performances do distil the well-drawn characters and are, in themselves, a joy to behold. Nick Gibb contrasts his world-weary ex ’Nam vet, Rug Tank, with an earnest and somewhat adenoidal Wallace Norman PM, then adds a Canadian operative called Gurnard (whose accent needs work). Rhys Mathewson’s Mark Hardigan is a staunch Kiwi bloke while his Tim Tambly MoD is a well-executed fool but it’s his Karen Tambly-Legs who proves the most formidable and memorable.

Projected location labels, made in a convincingly old-fashioned typeface, help us keep abreast of where we are and when – at least until potentially sensitive information is obliterated with black felt-tip. Sound effects (put together by Gibb, I believe) are excellent and well integrated into the action, as are some terrific lighting effects, by operator Joe Newman.  

Force Norman is a show to be reckoned with and another welcome step up from stand-up.

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