I walk into the Mac’s Harbourside Function Venue on a rainy Saturday, my mood as dreary as Wellington’s weather. Not knowing what to expect, my kids – aged 10 and 12 – and I walk into a dark lit room. I’ve made a point not to research the show beforehand because I want to be surprised.

The room is warm and loud with the chirping of small children everywhere on the mat where we’re supposed to sit. I flinch at the thought of sitting cross-legged for more than ten minutes with children half as old as my own. They wriggle and squeal. I want to join them! I’m thinking about how great it would be to have stayed in bed as I squirm to get comfortable, my oldest child leaning against me and glaring at the toddlers who have surrounded him.

Then the music starts and the performers, Masatomi Yoshida and Hitoshi Ono, come into the spotlight. They’re wearing matching zebra blazers and black pants and begin the show dancing to swish beats. The children fall silent and we’re all mesmerised by their dancing prowess. I still have no idea what’s going to happen here, but I find myself thinking less about my bed and fireplace, and being more in the moment.

GABEZ is a silent comedy created by Masa and Hitoshi. Their show is greatly influenced by iconic Japanese humourists The Drifters, and Charlie Chaplin’s silent comedy. For an hour their physical theatre show keeps me laughing and smiling with their expertly executed mime, slapstick with modern dance moves in this dynamic and energetic, physical theatre show. I don’t even care if my kids are enjoying it at some points, because the silence makes me have to pay attention, makes me want to pay attention to every nuance of their facial expressions. I don’t even want to blink lest I miss something.

There are about 5 parts to the show. Masa and Hitoshi start off with a crowd pleaser to get the young kids engaged. We’re all clapping as they horse around on stage – and then the rubber duck enters. We were expecting another performer, but the rubber duck does not disappoint! The duck loses its quack and Masa finds it in his own throat, much to the laughter and delight of the crowd.

The next piece is a classic mime show with Masa as a window washer and Hitoshi working, and um, sleeping, diligently at his desk. Masa’s miming skills are impressive – you can almost see the glass he’s cleaning. Mime flows into slapstick seamlessly, with some great moments that elicit huge guffaws.

My two favourite skits are at the end. The first entails a massage chair. Masa is playing an old crooked lady, and Hitomi is the massage chair operator. The old lady sits in the chair and starts playing with the remote. Masa moves his body is a way that makes him seem boneless. He’s vibrating and the crowd is laughing. If you’ve ever sat in one of these chairs in Tokyo’s airport, you’ll get the feeling instantly. The best part is when ‘she’ starts rap dancing in the chair as she’s lost control of the remote. She mortified by the hand gestures she’s made and as she gets up she realises the massage chair has fixed her broken body and now she can walk, and dance!

The last skit is by far the most complex in terms of craft. It takes place in a monastery. Masa is a cleaner and Hitoshi is a meditating monk with serious martial arts skills that he shows off after his meditation session. He invites Masa’s cleaner to fight, and she obliges. The monk wins the fight and the cleaner is irked – she wants revenge! So, she pretends to leave the room while the monk is meditating and then attacks, but all the audience sees is her getting hurt while the monk stays perfectly still. I’m thinking that the monk’s spirit is fighting back and the cleaner has no chance.

But then the characters rewind, and we see that the monk is in fact so magical, that when the cleaner goes to attack him he freezes time, fights her with fists and dirty, stinky feet, and then sits back down and unfreezes time so she only feels the after-effects of his attacks and has no idea what’s happening! The way they rewind their actions is incredible and precise – I’ve never seen anything like it.

At the end, I’m sore from sitting cross-legged on the ground and clapping profusely, but I can feel the shift in my mood. Gabez is an uplifting show that, in the words of another perhaps more well-known Japanese performer, “sparks joy”. It’s worth crawling out of your warm bed for. 

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