When 16-year-old Morehu’s grandmother who raised him passes on, Manawa, the mother he never met, returns to uphold her mother’s dying wish that she finally take him back. Manawa ran away when he was born and Morehu is understandably distrustful of her. 

It takes him a while to ask her the obvious – Why? When he finally does, she doesn’t know what to say, causing an emotionally charged impasse that can only be resolved with an answer to Morehu’s enquiry.

Nicola Kawana visibly carries the weight of the terrible decision Manawa was compelled to make. As she strives to interact with the whanau she hasn’t seen for so long, it’s clear she has never detached from the torment of her tragic past. 

Rhys Castle Hughes as Morehu is similarly outgoing, if considerably less verbal, with the bitterness of his motherless childhood and anger over his unanswered questions underpinning his wholly likeable personality. 

William Davis’s Uncle Rongo, the last surviving member of his generation, is surer of himself than any of the others. Numerous sagacious remarks and occasional inappropriate flirtations with the younger ladies display the confidence of his years, and the respect he commands is considerable.

Of the four mothers in the play, mildly neurotic lawyer Jess, played with humour and heart by Lana Garland, struggles most to juggle her job and her young son Richie, tending to sacrifice the latter to maintain her position in her career. 

Sera Henare is Jess’s twenty-year-old daughter Wai, also a solo mother of four-year-old Jojo whose father has departed for another woman. For Wai the course of the play is a belated coming-of-age, dealing with the rude awakening that accompanies the breakdown of youthful idealism.

Renae Maihi successfully excels at two full time jobs, not unlike a solo mother. Having written the script, she also plays the lovable Rina, Domestic Purposes Beneficiary and mother of young Nikora. Essentially Rina is the diametric opposite to Jess, pouring all her being into motherhood at the expense of any academic or career achievement. 

Director Rachel House takes a wholly contrasting approach to last year’s historical epic Flintlock Musket. Nga Manurere still takes a stylised approach to the production with Sean Coyle’s minimal set (white floor, wall and chairs) and few props (a few drinking vessels, Wai’s cellphone and most significantly Morehu’s taiaha). But what could have been a less engaging, stagy piece of theatre is instead brimming with humour and life as people we easily recognise, and/or identify with, struggle to make amends for their parts in the tragic events of their lives. 

Keisha Castle-Hughes has stepped out of the role of Wai in last year’s premier season and into the task of costume design: simple and elegant, mainly black, honouring the Tangi aspect underpinning the story, splashing some red in here and there as desperation increases.

The supposed solution to Manawa’s dilemma surrounding her dark, unspoken secret raises more questions than it answers. I don’t think I’d have made the choice she does, or responded the way Morehu does. I’m left worried about the repercussions of the idealistically disingenuous conclusion, yet still caring, and hoping the ensuing chapters in their lives play out with more love than pain to drive them than there was before. 

I didn’t see it last year (reviewed here) so I’m not able to compare the relative changes that have been made. As I understand it half the cast, the director and producer are all new in their roles if not to the play. The script has been tweaked with the benefit of hindsight and feedback, so the production is basically a fresh interpretation. The design is new also, including the custom-written music. 

In any case, as it stands Nga Manurere is an effective, emotionally charged work. Book-ended with opening wairua-driven waiata ‘Kereru’ and the old uncle’s short address to the wairua of his loved ones who have passed on, Maihi’s script gives precocious insights to the way we think and feel, and then mix up our feelings and thoughts until we’re exhausted and confused.

The pervading Maoritanga, genuine and rich as it is, is essentially a given circumstance rather than educative or emphatically forced in. This accessible pitch extends to all levels of the play and the primary effect is easily engaging with characters we really care about.

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