Yes – Neke Neke – Yes! Move over to make room for the vast extras we remember… Move for the complexities of our many selves that we see reflected in the whenua and wai of our ancestors… Move in response to the current socio-political climates we endure as Mana Oceania. Move like mānu, whare tūpuna, pou, Hei tiki… like toa. We see you, and we move with you too.

Described in the programme note as “a voyage of self-discovery”, NEKE performed at Te Pou Theatre as part of the Kōanga Festival, moves in a transitional ‘theatre-scape’ of complexity. From the opening and the firm squeeze of my hand from my hoa rangatira to express his immediate connection to the work, we continue to be squeezed in ongoing ways.

The many articulations that come into the performance gently find form, revealing a backbone of familiar identities, both physical and metaphysical. The many characters we can interact with, recall and remember. The Aunties and the Cuzzies at the whare tūpuna… in the wharekai… under the waharoa and pare, each sharing spoken and unspoken moments with the audience. The work isn’t literal, it doesn’t point to a linear narrative that delivers a palatable theatre experience. Instead, we thread together our interpretations as the audience, sections somewhat undone mean that interactions with performance modalities/moments are ours to digest and arrive at naturally. And we do.

The art and lighting design by Tracey Tawhiao and Jane Hakaraia becomes my happy place. Throughout the performance, the projections are co-creators and curators of place. They are constant happenings arriving as fabrics of our DNA transitioning with the mauri and intentions of the performer/s. They are stunning, and as they sweep along with the rich composition of ‘physical theatre’ or embodied storytelling, I am swimming alongside just in awe of the ‘other’ layering/s of pūrākau they provide.

The kaimahi, whose bodies, voices, commitment, joy and power weave into and out of the script share provocation, stories, songs and chants rich in humour, gesture and physical exploration. These sound and body scapes are challenging and authentic because they (kaimahi) seem inherently embedded in shared realities. Dominic Ona-Ariki, Moana Ete, Reuben Butler, Akinehi Monroe and Shania Bailey-Edmonds transcend linear skills to weave confident movements of voice, ihi and wana, mana and mauri. They hold the intent of NEKE safely as narratives crisscross humour to trauma, connection to colonisation and the natural to disrupted and dispossessed.  

NEKE writer/director Scotty Cotter has conveyed a collage of theatre that breathes into our survival and co-existence within the urban and pre-colonial memories of self/selves. The work moves through characters and entities that become endearing relatives. There lying beneath our kiri as Iwi Māori … even just for a moment in the rant of Aunty, the chant of the Mōteatea, the rage of the haka and banter of the cuzzie, we see ourselves in the togetherness of resilience. In Te Pou, we are as such pou to our stories being told our way.

And just as NEKE unsettles realities that scream back to the diverse and multiple truths of colonisation, complex narrations of ourselves are revealed. It’s generational in genealogies, forever hostile to the colonial constructs that rangatira Moana Jackson once advanced as a “kind of pulp fiction in which the history of colonisation has actually become a colonisation of history itself”. NEKE is a piercing expression directed at the historical amnesia often evident in … well, almost everything… a social incomprehension long experienced in the oversized mauri-guzzling cultural hummers, that insist on taking without consent the resources of the world for which we co-inhabit.

This disruption is gently witnessed in NEKE‘s characters. Yet, as they challenge, they also soothe with what feels like the dreamed visits of tūpuna, or the arrival of tohu on a hikoi like the mānu that flies across your path in some form. In NEKE the manu is Dominic Ona-Ariki. His performance across oratory and gestural landscapes seem to deliver such messages needed in times of crisis. Translations of ‘I see you… You are okay’ foster vibes of all that good stuff we need to settle amongst the chaos. This time with Dominic is not a moment of theatre that will likely fade. 

Yes – Neke Neke – Yes! Move over to the mana that lives in our bodies as articulations of walking tūpuna, that we are seen and not here by chance… We are everyone, Tino Rangatiratanga, and our togetherness is at its best when we encompass and acknowledge all of our differences. – as NEKE moves scooping into view ‘that cousin’ and ‘that Aunty’ – allowing us to thread a connection in response to the performance content, confirmed in the laughter, the kōrerorero, and gaze…

NEKE is a work that gathers confidently and respectfully from a wakahuia of ngā Toi – a Whare Tapere, within the Whare Tapere that is Te Pou Theatre. It reminds me throughout of how this layering and multi-dimensionality is everywhere. When we are home, hanging with family, remembering those who have come before us and the things that must be done to support those who will come after us. That ‘accountability‘ that sits within our hapū – the mahi informed by the thinking that we are not here by chance and that the treasures of our ancestors reside within… In our Reo, our whanaunga, our humour, our loyalties and most importantly, our vulnerabilities. From the pou to the little idiosyncracies that exist in the most unexpected places. All precious and all relevant.

Mauri ora!

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer

Big day yesterday. Momentous.

The Trump Harris debate, Cabinet approves a six month Select Committee window for Seymour’s Treaty Principles Bill, I miss a High Court protest against Kaipara Council’s illegally disestablishing its Māori ward,* and Scotty Cotter’s Neke opens at Te Pou Theatre.

Yes, we did see Neke last week at the Mangere Arts Centre, yes, I did review it for Theatreview then, and no, I don’t often review a show twice. This was different in that I wanted to see how a great work like Neke would transfer to a new performance space. The answer is, it’s even better at Te Pou. The sightlines are better, the acoustics also, and the show lifted comparatively as well. Also, my reo ain’t that great and I’m quite deaf so the opportunity to better understand the subtleties embedded in this deeply nuanced show was also most welcome.

The Te Pou team has done a miraculous job with the main performance space. It’s easy for a show built elsewhere to look ‘plonked in’ when it shifts, but Neke fits into the 230 seat Tokomanawa theatre as if was made for it. This says heaps for the vision (Scotty Cotter), the planning of the creative team (Nancy Wijohn, Calvin Hudson, Braedyn Togi, Tracey Tawhiao, Jane Hakaraia, Rowan Pierce, and Jules Edwin), their work with the theatre management (Amber Curreen), and the resilience of all the performers. Absolutely top class from tīmatatanga to mutu.

The house is full, the air electric, the silences profound. As a performer you know when the audience is enjoying your work, they listen and are mostly silent, but you also know when they’re really truly engaged. You know by that sudden, deep, cosmic, black silence that fills the space and which carries you forward, those ‘gotcha’ moments that you work for and that make it all worthwhile. Neke is peppered with them and the full house cherishes them all.

We are confronted, as the lights cross fade, with the realisation that what we are seeing, while often allegorical (kōrero tairitenga), is real, that the political is personal, the personal is political. The words spoken by Tūheitia Pōtatau Te Wherowhero VII at the conclusion of the Hui-ā-motu ring out with the subtextual invocation, made tangible in Neke, is ‘watch out, we’re coming, and we mean business’.

‘Be Māori, be Māori every day’.

It’s impossible to evade, even if we want to, which we don’t. It’s 2024, not 1924, and, as somebody said, ‘we’re not going back’.

We watch as the bodies give us time to take them in. The sounds – music etc – are deeply evocative, primal, I am seriously impacted by them. The performers defy definition before our eyes, Dancers? Singers? Actors? Who knows? Who cares! They manifest Cotter’s vision and seem capable of achieving anything asked of them with consummate ease. They are at once energetic, arrogant, humble, funny, strong, vulnerable, they give us a doorway into the culture of the show, but also into Te Ao Māori, and they say ‘come on in, it’s not scary … well, maybe aunty is, but not really’.

There’s always a ‘not really’, and a chuckle.

Scene after scene build to form a coherent whole from seemingly disparate parts. It’s very smart stuff. Each performer has evolved a unique character, the deaf taniwha, the raucous cuzzie, the auntie, the linguist, the activist. Some stand out, some remain quietly embedded in the kaupapa of the piece.

Tracey Tawhiao’s designs are simply sublime. Even better the second time around. They are, in truth, a show in themselves. They expose a different but interconnected narrative to that woven by Cotter and his performers. Rich in hītōria, they often play against the anger in the text reminding us that, regardless of what is spoken on the marae ātea, or even in the wharenui, there are constants to be respected and returned to.

We review as a team.

We love the marae noho, see ourselves among the guests, laugh out loud at the memories. The laughter is kind and self-deprecating, but tart at the same time. How far we’ve come, and the forever question ‘how far do we still have to go?

Cushla recalls with a chuckle how she lost a pair of shoes, had to go home in jandals. Finn remembers how he didn’t ever want to go home from Ōrākei Marae he’d loved it so much, how he’d lain in the long grass at Waitangi at midnight and gazed at the cosmos, and I remember, more than once, feeling an arm slide into mine and a gentle voice saying ‘you go on with the women, you go on with us’.

Finn reflects on the relevance and the poignance of the political commentary and how it’s not coincidental that the Act Party gets a loud snort of derision and how Seymour himself is mocked and hooted at.

I am in tears (as usual) with ‘my parents were beaten; my grandparents were beaten’ and the repetition of this motif over and over again hurts. The pain it palpable. I remember the horror I felt when, as a child in the 1950s, my parents told me these stories. Pakeha parents angry at what friends had lived through when they were at school, my mother, an orphan raised on a marae, my father an ex-serviceman who had fought with the 28^th Battalion. All this swirls in my head as I watch this scene played out with unbridled passion and a strange majesty. A generation, perhaps two, that we must never forget, who were treated appallingly and who gave birth to what Yeats describes as ‘a terrible beauty’. True, Yeats wasn’t talking about Māori but about the Irish who, sadly, still remain impacted by colonisation and I’m certainly not the first to make that comparison. Good theatre does that to us.

Good theatre – and this is sublimely good theatre – runs an alternative narrative as we endeavour to make our own sense of what we’re seeing, consuming, experiencing, processing. I am, for more than a moment, revisiting Te Urewera and the raids on Ngāi Tūhoe, revisiting standing outside Mt Eden Prison in the cold, with Annette Sykes and others, in support of Tāme Iti and Rangikaiwhiria Kemara as they began the prison sentences that many of us felt – and still feel – were manifestly unjust.

I turned up on time that day.

Iti talks about the banning of te reo and its effect on him as a kid in his TED talk ‘The Power of Knowing Who You Are’. Check it out if you haven’t already, it’s poignant, and so very funny.

Five solo pieces anchor Neke, and while beautifully integrated into the work, each also stands alone, and each affects us in a different way. As I watch and enjoy, I wonder how much Cotter was engaged in their creation. It’s not important, just an actor’s thought. Each is indelible, fluid, an archetype, attractive, charismatic, from taniwha, to policy analyst, to hard case cuzzy bro, to scary (not really) aunty, to activist, and language student. I watch and fall in love with each of them I turn, as I’m sure is intended.

Dominic Ona-Ariki’s deaf taniwha is profoundly moving. He’s charismatic (they all are), he’s smart, connects physically, says ‘I see you’. We see him too. The tears come again. Ah, nga roimata, and I am immediately in a darkened room reciting Alistair Te Ariki Campbell’s Reflections on Some Great Chiefs and it’s 1978 all over again.

So many narratives. So very many narratives and all in parallel.

I’m easily fooled by great performances and these performers fool me in the very best way. Each exists only on this stage and only at this time. There’s not a hint of ‘look at me, do you remember me in … ‘. Performances without ego are the most powerful. The work is all that matters. I do my homework and find that each performer, each creative, is connected to the richest of Aotearoa’s performance arts legacy.

Reuben Butler is the outrageous cuzzy. He’s a hoot, funny, Māui te whare kino,leads us on, slaps us down, we laugh at him, he laughs at us, and we laugh at ourselves. Māori humour? I remain unconvinced. Content anchored in culture without doubt – ‘learn your dialect, in Taranaki drop the h’ – but deconstruct it and its still all about content, character, timing, pace, and delivery. Culture-free tools. It’s awesome anyway, and you’ll get a good old kick in the whanaungatanga if you have the hekeri to disagree.

Akinehi Munroe is subtly stroppy, a voice revisiting a hideous past. She anchors the physicals, especially early on. She’s the glue, the link, she provides the balance. I find that her work resonates and stays with me.

Shania Bailey-Edmonds is the reo, the eyes that look into your soul, the questioner, so very, very watchable.

‘We love you, Aunty’. Of course we do. Moana Ete does the business, and she romps away with opening night. There’s lot of connecting with the audience and Ete absolutely rocks it. She’s a heavy-duty aunty but we’re not fooled. We see through the brusque to the funny. She’s unique, and we love her trickery.

It has to be said that each performer connects with the audience in a rare and distinctive way, from the placing of the wero to the curtain speeches, the connections never let up, they encompass us in an almost mystical way. The standing ovation is payback for this inclusion, and it’s so well earned. While it’s the end, we know that it’s actually never going to be over. As Kiingi Tuheitia said ‘now the work begins’. I reflect on my childhood and the sea change that’s happened in my eighty years, from the blunt coloniser racism of the 1950s to the pride I feel in Neke, in Te Pou, in this Kōanga Festival now in its eleventh iteration, all of which truly is, as Shakespeare predicts in The Tempest, ‘something rich and strange’, and I would go as far as to suggest that, should governments blunder about roughshod over this kaupapa, they will do so at their peril.

The publicity for Neke invites us to solemnly reflect on what truly matters. Neke does, and we should too. It’s a work of its time, ahead of its time, and it’s on for just a few more nights.

You should see it.

Ko ia kāhore nei i rapu, tē kitea.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

*All a bit distracting, some of it seriously troubling, so much so I hassled the whānau to hurry up and get ready to ensure we weren’t late – and then arrived an hour early.

The theatre’s fault? No, the Te Pou system of contacting attendees well in advance with tickets and sensible advice worked a treat and showtime was even on the ticket, on the website, on the festival website, and embedded in my brain. I simply misread the time on my phone, calculated incorrectly, so it’s back to Minister Stanford’s new school maths curriculum for me. I’m sure that telling the time must be in there somewhere.

Another show was in progress when we arrived which was helpful. The Te Kōpua foyer was buzzy, and the hosts at the door were welcoming as always. So were the box office team, and we were sorted out and smoothly guided to the bar for drinks and a kai in a jiffy. Juice, and a lovely mezze platter, were delivered and consumed, all of which mitigated against the self-flagellation that usually accompanies me getting the time wrong. The kai truly was delicious, good conversations were had, memories shared, and all was well. In a brain filled with Trump’s lies, Haitian immigrants eating family pets, and Seymour’s bizarre understanding of democracy, I logged my future intention to always be an hour early for shows at Te Pou. The benefits – the manaakitanga, the kai, the kōrero, the space itself and what it has become – are all very special.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer

What fourth wall?

No boundaries are crossed – tangata whenua (the cast) stayed on the floor level stage of the wonderful Mangere Arts Centre, and manuhiri (audience) stayed in their seats – but the impact of the performer’s impassioned mahi happened all around me, over the top of me, and deep inside of me.

I was transformed.

Let’s take a step back, though.

It’s been a transformative year for many of us.

I have spent 25 years with my wife and almost as much with our son both of whom whakapapa Māori – Ngāpuhi-nui-tonu. I don’t. I’m an unashamed – like I have a choice – pale-skinned, blue-eyed, elderly … OK, old … white honkey. I am also tangata tiriti. One thing I can’t do, and don’t pretend to do, is whakapapa Māori.

There, I said it.

So why am I reviewing this show which is by Māori for Māori and which opens with the late Kiingi Tūheitia’s closing speech from the Hui-ā-Motu in January 2024: “Be who we are, live our values, speak our reo, care for our mokopuna, our awa, our maunga, just be Māori. Māori all day, every day, we are here, we are strong.” He carried on saying, “”his is just day one. Our time is now, kotahitanga is the way. We should use this time to build kotahitanga, today is about kotahitanga. We need to be united first and then decide our future.”

I watched every second of the Hui-ā-Motu on the Kiingitanga Facebook page. Tens of thousands flocked to Turangawaewae to attend in person. Many more consuming it online as I did.

Kiingi Tūheitia pointed out that the next significant gatherings would be at Rātana the following week, then Waitangi in February, and he called on South Island-based iwi Ngāi Tahu and eastern iwi of the North Island to convene hui in their respective regions, saying that “the kōrero continues. Let the four winds speak as we find our kotahitanga, ngā hau e whā, kia kotahi rā. After we’ve heard from the four winds, I will call us together again. Jobs, housing, kai, education – these issues are bigger than politics. It won’t be easy, we haven’t fixed it yet, there’s more mahi to do.”

Neke is doing its share. The mention of ACT in the show was greeted with derisive applause, Seymour got the same treatment.

The year rolled on and Rātana followed, then Waitangi, then the Koroneihana, the annual celebration of the anniversary of the coronation of the current monarch of the Kiingitanga.

I watched every second of the Koroneihana – and two weeks later Tūheitia was gone. My whanau took a deep breath, and like tens of thousands of others prepared to travel to Turangawaewae to pay our respects. Instead, however, we watched it all on TV, the need to earn a living when self-employed eventually taking over.

I’m reviewing this production because the producer felt it was OK. A tangata tiriti perspective is hopefully of value. She’s a professional and would have accepted whoever I chose without complaint. That’s just how it’s always worked. Tradition is mostly a good thing.

I really enjoy going to shows at the Mangere Arts Centre and Neke was no exception. I took two companions so had to (willingly) pay for a third ticket. The young woman at the sales desk kindly sold me the ‘Kaumatua’ ticket because it was cheaper. We giggled about that. I like cheaper. Kapai, to that wāhine!

There’s nothing cheap about the show though. It’s glorious, power personified, magnificent. Fit, elegant bodies, powerhouse voices in great nick (I hear every word), expansive choreography, optics to die for, and such a performable script. Not that it feels like there is a script, the immediacy of the performances is so complete. It could be improvised it is that slick. One of my companions tells me it is was though every word was spoken direct to her, every physical image, every gesture, every posture, just for her. It is the same for me. My other companion, a young tāne, an athlete, said, “At least it kept me awake.” Then he added, “It’s the best show I’ve ever seen. I felt so proud.” High praise from one so often monosyllabic.

Which reminds me, it’s also seriously funny. Not just haha funny but cryptically funny, snortworthy, laugh-out-loud funny, ‘did they really say that?’ funny, and it’s political, angry, passionate, subtle, nuanced. It’s physically brilliant, the whakamanamana vocabulary drawn straight from kapa haka, from kāhia, from tā moko, from rock art, and from the ever-present taniwha, relentlessly provides a parallel narrative to Scotty Cotter’s vibrant direction and evocative text.

Neke is the complete performance experience. Much more than the sum of its parts, it seems to have benefited from its well-received debut at the Kia Mau Festival in 2021, not that I saw it then, it just feels that way, feels evolved from something else, something earlier, more primal, it feels ‘mature’. I say it’s complete because of the essential contribution to the whole of the entire team, working together, unity in action.

Kotahitanga.

The publicity for Neke tells us to expect ‘a powerful mix of movement, theatre, song, and Māori humour that will captivate and uplift. Get ready for this talented cast to enchant you, bringing laughter, tears, and reminding you about what truly matters.’

They certainly do all that!

Scotty Cotter’s vision is all over the production, from the lyrical and poetic text to the impressionistic optics, to the esoteric storytelling, and the faultless performances. Choreographer Braedyn Togi connects the dots flawlessly utilizing the prodigious talents of his cast and his fellow creatives to achieve the absolute best effect. It’s simply outstanding work.

Cotter himself is an award-winning actor with over two decades in the entertainment business, showcasing his versatility in long-standing roles on shows like Shortland Street, Brown Brothaz, Whanau, and The Sounds. His recent work includes performances in Kura, My Life Is Murder, Brokenwood, and Not Even, along with a feature film appearance in The Rehearsal. Beyond screen success, Cotter is a seasoned stage actor and director, with notable credits such as He Kura E Huna Ana, Bless the Child, The Wholehearted, and the co-directed Mauri Tau to his impressive portfolio. Most recently he won the NZTV award in 2022 for Best Supporting Actor.

It shows.

Tracey Tawhiao is responsible for the visual brilliance of Neke and it is simply outstanding. From the out-of-sync triangular flags that serve both as themselves and as screens for the profound and ever-changing moving images, I am reminded of the extraordinary importance of flags and banners in the 80 years of Māori political protest – we’ll need them again soon – and the delicate colours and textures that find their way from her palette to her flags speaks volumes. Tawhiao is a visual artist poet, painter, and filmmaker of note and it’s great to see her work embedded in such an outstanding performance piece. With no-one separately listed as a wardrobe human I will assume Tawhiao is also responsible for the extraordinary clothes . Visually perfect and thoroughly functional, my companion is very keen to know where she can purchase splendid items such as these.

Now we get to really celebrate the amalgamation of all of the elements of the work via Jane Hakaraia’s incredible lighting design. It’s as though she, Cotter, and Tawhiao have lived in each other’s heads throughout the creative process. Anyone who goes to the theatre a lot will be familiar with Hakaraia’s work. At worst, it’s magical, and it seems to just gets better and better every time. In the case of Neke, I’ve never seen her light a show better.

Maybe I should stop trying to be smart talking about artists living in each other’s heads because it gets crowded in there when you add set and a/v consultant Rowan Pierce and sound designer Jules Edwin, both of whose work is as critical to the whole as any other element. I’ve never seen technology used to better effect to enrich, illuminate, and enhance a performance work.

Neke feels special in that ‘sit up and take notice’ way. Thirty minutes in I have tears running down my face and I give up trying to dry them away. Yes, it’s that good, and yes, there are comparisons, a privilege of the elderly, coming up.

In 1976 I went to a Theatre Corporate production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and it changed the way I looked at performance forever. It was so good it literally took my breath away. Actors physically and vocally capable, through refined training, of fulfilling the creative concepts of a genius director.

In 1977 I was a member of the Theatre Corporate company when a dance group called Limbs was formed and they rehearsed in our studio. They were beyond special, and since then the ‘specials’ have advanced to include the late Stephen Bradshaw’s Te Kanikani o Te Rangatahi and its offshoot Taiao Dance Theatre, Douglas Wright Dance Company, Michael Parmenter at his best with A Long Undressing, and Taiaroa Royal’s Õkāreka. Each of these collaborations has been capable of creating life-changing experiences for both audiences and performers alike. I’m going to add Scotty Cotter’s Neke to this list because this work is so good, so ‘of its time’, and in so many ways linked by whakapapa back to those great companies it cannot be ignored. Taiaroa Royal sums up collaboration and distils my clumsy understanding of the Neke experience when he writes, ‘whether people are brought together by blood, or a similar intention, excellence is reached through group effort and energy, through collaboration and the sharing of dreams. The individual can only reach greatness through the efforts of the many.’

Tautoko that!

Neke is the result of that collaborative excellence.

So, who are these performers who are so capable of absorbing this extraordinary creative vision?

Dominic Ona-Ariki has been around the block in a good way for one so young. He has an extensive background in television – you might remember him as the detective haunted by visions of dead people in three series of One Lane Bridge. In Neke he has a powerful physical presence and great comedy chops. He has the ability to do what my old Dad would have described as “spinning his emotions on a thruppence”, changing course in an instant to move an audience. He also provides a solid anchor in Neke and his aurally disabled taniwha is absolute magic.

Moana Ete is ‘Aunty’ in Neke but she’s so much more than that. Talent dripping from every pore, she has a performance history that includes Titania in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Aroha Mataira in Rachel House’s acclaimed The Pohutukawa Tree, and (like most of us) a toad in Hansel and Gretel. Moana has chosen an arc through the show that is markedly difference from the rest of the cast but, when ensemble is required, she’s right up for that too.

Akinehi Munroe has been acting since she was a kid and has built up heaps of experience. She has incredible dance skills, astonishing speed and energy, and is a powerful backbone for the ensemble. Her television credits include Shortland Street and Brokenwood.

Shania Bailey-Edmonds has worked constantly since graduating from Te Kura Toi Whaakari o Aotearoa and built up an extensive CV in television, film, and live theatre. Bailey-Edmonds is fluent in te reo Māori and was a member of the 2021 cast of Neke.

Reuben Butler also has an extensive portfolio of roles built since graduating from Te Kura Toi Whaakari o Aotearoa. He’s played Puck in A Midsummer Night’s Dream twice at the Pop-Up Globe in separate productions directed by David Lawrence and Dr Miles Gregory. His hard case character in Neke identifies him as an actor with great timing, imagination, and his character has evolved a wonderfully exact physicality.

Neke’s producer is Nancy Wijohn. Nancy brings an extraordinary depth of experience and knowledge to Neke on many fronts. With a bachelor’s degree in Screen and Performing Arts majoring in Contemporary Dance from Unitec and as co-Director and producer at Body Island, a leading creator of live and digital dance experiences, Nancy’s career covers directing, choreography, teaching, and performance, both nationally and internationally and includes roles as Associate Producer at Te Pou Theatre where Neke begins a new season next week. Check out the Kōanga Festival Website.

Nancy’s dance credentials are also exceptional having worked with Douglas Wright Dance Company, Õkāreka (fangirl moment: I adore her work), and other important New Zealand dance companies. She’s tenacious and as hard-working as anyone I’ve ever met.

Neke is a ‘must see’ in my books, and you have the opportunity to catch it in a different venue next week. I’ll be going again (I love Te Pou). So will my companions – and remember, if in doubt, it kept my son awake (and it’s also the best production he’s ever seen, and he’s seen plenty!).

As the publicity says ‘Kia tū tahi tātou’ — we are all in this together.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer

Neke, meaning to move or shift, uses contemporary methods of theatre and traditional concepts of Māori performing arts to move or shift audience perceptions of kaupapa Māori or Māori issues.  

Whether you are Māori or not, Neke uses a dynamic cast, fluid movements, and a simple and creative set to challenge the audience’s understanding of kaupapa Māori. Neke provides a patch work quilt kind of experience by successfully weaving together different aspects of theatre to bring various Māori stories and characters to life. Neke is bold, diverse, varied and unapologetically Māori – and for that, I am thankful.  

“E koekoe te tūī, e ketekete te kākā, e kūkū te kereru”

The 5-person cast gives life to a myriad of characters who represent various faces of Māori society. From taniwha guardians to the famous marae aunty, to the policy analyst, to the cuzzy from the back of the marae, to the te reo Māori student – they were all there. The cast gives each character a unique persona that resonates with the audience who chuckle, empathise and connect with them all.

The singing, the acting, the dancing all come to life with the cast. Each character is crafted to be a storyteller by reflecting Māori society, by engaging with the audience and by conveying the various messages of each scene. As individuals and as a collective, the performers successfully tell their stories and add to the patchwork quilt that is Neke.

“Kua tū te haka a Tānerore”

The show is a marriage of contemporary dance and different haka-related movements that are bold, sharp and fluid.

The production uses kapa haka movements throughout that included toroparawai (foot movements), pūkana and whākana (facial expressions), and taparahi (ceremonial haka movements). Of particular note is the use of haka taparahi to physically demonstrate a piece of spoken word. Generally, haka combines te reo Māori poetry with physical movements. One particular scene within the production replaces te reo Māori in the haka with English. The character perform a haka in English to demonstrate the meaning of haka and to ensure the message is heard and understood – te reo Māori is nearly lost.

The expressions of the deaf taniwha are also noteworthy. The characterisation of the taniwha through the use of fluid actions helps to understand the body of the taniwha. The animated face of the taniwha helps the audience understand the sign language that is also integrated into these scenes. The taniwha engages with the audience in a way that is reliant on the understanding of movement. The compelling presentation through face and gestures is mesmerising and created a connection with the audience.

“Me he whare pūngāwerewere”

The simplistic set provides a blank canvas to illustrate Māori concepts, ideas, and movement. The set is basic with triangular flag shaped panels with black and white kōwhaiwhai designs hung to create stage legs. The set also integrates projections of still and moving images in conjunction with simple but effective lighting.

The lighting during some of the dance scenes is notable because of the projected shadows who join the dance. One dancer turns into many. The strong choreography is transformed onto the back of the stage giving more life to the movement.

“Ko te reo te mauri o te mana Māori”

The performers, the movement and the set help to shine light onto some Māori issues like the history of te reo Māori, the concept of kaitiaki, and the role of storytelling and performance to highlight and address Māori issues. Although it is difficult for me to tie one theme and story throughout the show, the numerous themes that are woven throughout are sufficient to stir emotion, thought, and interest.

“Kōrero Māori – kaua e whakamā” is a line that continues to resonate with me since the show. As a fluent speaker of te reo Māori myself, who intentionally chooses to communicate with fluent speakers in English, these words make me reflect on my role in the revitalisation of te reo Māori. Neke reminds me of the hardship my grandparents’ generation endured because they spoke te reo Māori. The continuous strikes on the characters in the production remind everyone of the pain inflicted for speaking te reo Māori. These strikes provide context to the young girl announcing that she is “here to pick up [her] language” and to those internalising their insecurities during karakia (prayers) whilst visiting the marae. The production is bold enough to address the historic challenges of te reo Māori and celebrate the wins by making the messages easy to engage so people can relate.

Kaitiaki or guardian characters and symbols are thoughtfully woven throughout the show. The taniwha and forest characters, the written names of Atua on the triangular flags, the images of tiki and the sewn protection all speak to different aspects of kaitiaki. This is another example where the show has provided layers to understand a Māori concept. The layers demonstrate the intricacies within the concepts but present them in digestible forms for the audience to take and consider.

The piecemeal style of the show has provided a taste of Māori issues that have been presented in a Māori way – by Māori for everyone. The key for me is the power of storytelling and its many facets. Indigenous stories are not just written, they are sung, they are performed, they are recited, they are etched in art and they provide sufficient sustenance to those who are privileged to enjoy them. Neke has used all forms of storytelling to introduce audiences to Māori concepts, issues and characters. Neke brings the many faces and issues of Māori society to life through interpretive movement, through acting, through song, through poetry and through haka. Neke weaves together different stories with different storytelling methods to generate some level of move or shift in the audience’s perception of Māori issues – and for that, I am thankful.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer