Sometimes there is nothing so magical as a girl, on a stage, sitting on a rubbish bag.  

With every funding cut scything away at our creative waistlines, the Arts are now in a position where every show must first justify its existence. Why do we bother to make theatre – especially under these conditions? Sitting in the captivated full house audience of Leilani, playing in Q Theatre’s Loft, watching dungaree-ed actress Irasa Siave sink fluidly onto a black rubbish sack, I know exactly why. [More] 

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer

Leilani‘s “Aotearoa Dell’Arte” masks (made by Kate Lang) are clever, and the stylised acting that brings them to life is excellent but, after a promising prologue, this comic “melodrama” about serious matters doesn’t quite hit the mark. Still, this is a development season – part of Q Theatre’s Matchbox Series – and Unitec lecturer Pedro Ilgenfritz’s new Mahuika Theatre Company has a lot of potential.

On its debut, Mahuika aims to present timeless “archetypes” but they seem like old-fashioned flat clichés: the “clingy, stifling” girlfriend, the harridan, the homeless man with a heart of gold. The sexy narcissist is more successful, but it’s hard for a hen-pecked husband to be topsy-turvy funny when women are no longer expected to be subservient and men are no longer expected to rule the roost. [More] 

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer

The atmosphere feels energised and optimistic as the capacity audience settles for this world premiere of emergent theatre company Mahuika’s debut production.  Overall the optimism is fully justified; artistic director Pedro Ilgenfritz honors the historic occasion with a short introductory speech and humble acknowledgements.

The action begins before the lights go down, as larger-than-life half-mask characters Leilani (Irasa Siave) and her boyfriend Junior (Aymee Karaitiana-Jones) enter as latecomers to their own story; as I write that it strikes me as poignant.  Just where the meta-prologue ends and the play proper begins is as nebulous as it is ultimately irrelevant. 

Siave’s sole-role performance is wholly innocent, openhearted and naïve.  She is an adult, complicit in the exciting news she reveals early on, yet her awkward dress-sense and simple, child-like demeanour belies her physical maturity.  Equally simple in his own cuzzy-bro way, the apparent charm of Karaitiana-Jones’ is diminished by a dishonest, self-serving streak.

Each character is identified by a unique mask, as well as distinctive costumes (designed by Rhianna Crawford), and appropriately idiosyncratic physical and vocal characteristics as informed by the energy with which the masks imbue them.  The speed of some of the off-stage transformations is considerable. 

It’s all downhill from the enthusiastic start for poor Leilani, which is to say there are ups and downs along the way, but everything that transpires is essentially a compromise to the confident idealism she began with.  A passive protagonist, she spends the duration of the narrative subjected to the will of others, powerless to take any kind of control of the situation for herself. 

Including Junior, Karatainia-Jones performs four impressively diverse roles, as does third cast member Natasha Daniel.  Leilani aside, the other female roles are all rather insensitive, demanding and altogether pretty cruel: Aroha (Daniel) the sassy glamour girl; Sarah (Karatainia-Jones) the domineering shrew and Paihia (Karatainia-Jones again), the self-serving vagrant entrepreneur.

Karatainia-Jones’ male roles are similarly narcissistic: the arguably complex idiot Junior, and the downright sleazy pig-man Lloyd, a rather horrid specimen of urban corruption.  Only Daniel’s portrayals of eager-to-please, browbeaten milquetoast Tim and romantic homeless philosopher Trev offer any degree of empathy or benevolence. 

Kate Lang’s mask designs, made with assistance from Ilgenfritz, are less exaggerated than the classical Commedia style.  Nonetheless, comparatively subtle features provide clear distinctions between their respective personae, augmented in no small part by equally distinct characterisations. 

It’s intriguing to note how such broad, cartoonish caricatures can engender such relatable, familiar humanity.  The pointed poses on each entrance and double takes as they exit emphasise the heightened meta-reality of their melodramatic world. 

Designer Marshall Bull’s practically minimal set, well-appointed for travel, comprises two tall hinged screens evoke generations of urban development with bits of piping and building materials among layers of black, brown and white paint. 

Linking scenes and punctuating the emotional beats of the story, John Ellis’s musical composition has a definitive air of classic piano-accordion–centric French folk music, peculiarly appropriate for the tone of the overall production. 

Gary Henderson’s script advisor credit implies the work has been devised and dramaturged by the director and cast.  Dialogue is exaggeratedly simple and frank, with only occasional moments of poeticism seasoning the otherwise frank, perfunctory verbal exchanges.  The considerable heart and soul of Leilani lies in the truth of its characters. 

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer