No matter how earnestly we try to script it, life itself is an improvisation. While Lockdown Levels in this Time of Covid may make our lives feel more prescribed and proscribed than ‘normal’, constant rejigging at the margins is the name of the game for performing arts producers. Spontaneous (re)creation is an essential skill.  

The NZ Improv Festival is especially well-suited to this unpredictable climate. Although training and workshops are undertaken for improvisers to become aligned to particular formats and maintain ‘match fitness’, no weeks of rehearsal are needed and pre-production requirements are minimal.

When a venue is open, and participants and audiences are allowed to gather, albeit within certain constraints, it’s all go: the alchemy of improv can flourish with as much flare as ever – as attested by this year’s opening taster, Here’s a Thing.

Accompanied by Matt Hutton on keyboard and with Bethany Miller operating the lights, Jennifer O’Sullivan, the ever-ebullient director of the whole festival as well as this show, introduces the players and enthuses a highly receptive space-out audience with the prospect of “smatterings” of what is on offer over this week, some of which preview specific shows.

Matt Powell offers Your Extraordinary Life, picks Christine Brooks and Ryan Knighton to demonstrate and asks them to reveal something about their lives that no-one knows about, until now. Christine’s life is obviously an open book because she asks Matt P what he would answer and takes his participation in international computer programming competitions as her own. Ryan reveals a nightmare scenario that involves his using underwear to scare off an imagined threat.

To up the ante Matt P reassigns each ‘thing’ to the other and a quiet interaction ensues that suddenly kicks up a notch when programmer Ryan is revealed as a cyborg and Christine as his match made in cyberspace.

Next Ryan asks us what we want to know more about, someone calls out “Philosophy!” and the variations on the theme that transpire involve Rodin’s ‘Thinker’, the fakeness of the world, unconventional pairing of cheeses with fruit that someone connects to Nietzsche, and a bunch of monkeys discovering that a mound can be sat upon and endowing the one who does so with worshipful status.

Emma Brittenden asks for a profession, gets “Tractor Driver” and instantly Dan Allan and Liz Butler are on a roll, trundling over paddocks as they obey Emma’s directive to be full of compliments for each other. Result: they agree on creating a paddling pool for the dogs.

To preview The I-Files, Laura Irish (co-directing with Dan Allan) sets up a pre-credit sequence inspired by the ask-for “midwife on the phone” – and would you believe it, the baby disappears before the midwife has a chance to stitch up the mother! (And here I must apologise for failing to note who steps up to perform, such is my enthrallment in what is unfolding).

Instant internet access allows Liz Butler to set up her Shuffle Gods show by asking for a well-known song, getting ‘Every Time We Touch’ and charging Christine to find the lyrics on phone and speak only those words while Dan is allowed to say whatever he likes. It’s an ingenious concept.

Jennifer O’Sullivan’s show is The Dive, set in a bar close to closing time: “That time when you pick a random hill and die on it.” Her ask-for produces, “Pineapple on a pizza” and so the drunken argument plays out – between Matt P, Ryan and Laura, as I recall.

The pineapple returns as a mysterious object from a far-off land in Dan Allan’s Master Fool, where Ryan is assigned to be Jester to Liz’s King. Only Matt P’s ancient retainer seems to know something of it – which inspires Emma to lead off a choral tribute to this wondrous fruit.  

Murder on a Boat directed by Christine Books booked out so fast there was no space for a Theatreview reviewer. In this taste of it, Jennifer becomes filthy rich Lady Rhubarbarum whose Servant, Matt P (I think) provides her with everything she requires except adventure – until a messenger (Dan) drops dead before the message can be delivered.

To her delight – and ours – she becomes the interrogating detective of the Ship’s Cook (Laura?), a Shark (Ryan), a Poker Player (Liz) and another Shark (Emma) who turns out to be fake …

As a finale, the ensemble sings the audience-offered ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ as a battle hymn, driven by Matt H on keys and drenched in red by Bethany’s lights.

The plethora of spontaneous creativity that has been packed into this opening show in 50 fertile minutes bodes extremely well for the shows coming up. 

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