GAP YEARZ
BATS Theatre, Studio, 1 Kent Tce, Wellington
01/03/2019 - 01/03/2019
Production Details
Are you thinking about a gap year? Have you been on a gap year? Has your life turned into a series of gap years? Niamh’s currently on her fourth…
“Do not reply” – A message from Inland Revenue
Are you thinking about a gap year? Have you been on a gap year? Has your life turned into a series of gap years? Niamh’s currently on her fourth…
The one woman cabaret spectacle that calls itself “The Niamh Show” hereby presents to you “GAP YEARZ”. On top of the unexpected, one can expect a 59 minute showcase of musical parodies, first class storytelling and the option to undertake a spiritual journey via the path of laughter yoga. We’re talking (and singing) feminism, queerism, baptisms, orgasms and enlightenment. Parental guidance recommended. Batteries not includes. T&Cs apply.
BATS Theatre, The Studio
1 March at 9:30pm
Full Price $18
Concession Price $14
Group 6+ $13
BOOK TICKETS
Accessibility
*Access to The Studio is via stairs, so please contact the BATS Box Office at least 24 hours in advance if you have accessibility requirements so that appropriate arrangements can be made. Read more about accessibility at BATS.
Theatre , Solo , Musical ,
1 hr
Wit without vulgarity and fun with freshness
Review by Margaret Austin 02nd Mar 2019
A gap year is supposed to be good for you. Niamh, performing at Bats Studio, had four of them. I’d say they were very good for her.
Not only did they provide her with stacks of energy and resilience, they also gave her plenty of material for a show redolent with wry observations and witty repartee.
Niamh – now what kind of name is that? – enters doing a jig. That’s Irish. And so is Niamh, pronounced Neve (yes) would you believe? The jig is exuberant, as is its performer.
Despite her confessed fear of flying she heaves on a large pack over her electric blue top and takes up a ukulele.
Niamh’s show could be described as a musical travelogue. She takes us first to an island in Thailand where she lets herself in for a yoga course, complete with a contract she is required to sign forswearing her guilty pleasures. Her audience guesses, correctly, she’ll have trouble with that. Such collusion with those watching is part of Niamh’s artfulness.
After yoga in Thailand, we accompany our singing traveller to other places and other experiences. She’s a swimming teacher, a fundraiser for Nepal, a day care worker, and a ‘woke’ feminist. The songs which describe these are well crafted and clever. Her audience responds with speedy recognition. Especially apt is a song about global warming, sung to the tune of ‘Old McDonald had a Farm’.
It’s somewhat rare at the Fringe to find wit without vulgarity and fun with freshness. Niamh manages this feat with ease.
I turn to the row behind me, full of amused young faces. “Did you have a gap year?” I ask one of them. He indicates his companions: “We’re all on one.”
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