Back in the day it wasn’t uncommon to have theatre performances at four on a Sunday afternoon but, as a fashion, it seems to have waned. It was therefore exciting to bundle the whānau into the car and zip out to Te Pou Theatre to see Hone Kouka’s Ngā Rorirori, the penultimate offering in this year’s Kōanga Festival, at four on Sunday. It takes quite a change of mindset (for me at least) to find myself munching olives, relishing hummus, and downing a fizzy drink in the Te Kōpua foyer in the middle of a sunny spring afternoon in Tāmaki Makaurau but it could just catch on. For sure, I’d do it again.

Have to say too, that the Te Pou Mediterranean mezze platter could well become my kai du jour, and at any time of the theatre-going day or night!

It’s been an exciting few weeks at Te Pou and the range and variety of the work on offer at the Kōanga Festival has been quite extraordinary, from opera sung in Te Reo Māori in the transformed Te Kōpua foyer, to outstanding dance theatre in the Tokomanawa main house, to innovative and invigorating short plays delivered as a double bill in the Tāhū Studio. Add to this, indigenous play readings and a Whānau Day, and staff heads must have been spinning under all those different hats, but stress is never evident anywhere, just the outstanding and ongoing manaakitanga that the venue is increasingly known for.

It’s not over, of course, there’s still Rutene Spooner’s Be Like Billy which arrives, like Ngā Rorirori, with an already established reputation. 

Kouka is in the house.

Always a dapper figure who seems ageless, he chats to audience members, but his focus is clearly on the show, and he quickly slips away into the darkened Tokomanawa theatre. It’s somehow comforting to know that the playwright/director is in the house. Like ‘Dad’s home, we can breathe now.’

Kouka seems to have been around forever, and he’s known and respected worldwide. The joke is that he’s the only Māori playwright born in Balclutha, but his standing as a man of the theatre is universally acknowledged. His play Nga Tangata Toa burst onto the scene in the 1990’s and blitzed the Chapman Tripp Awards. In 1996, he wrote Waiora on commission which evolved into a trilogy that includes Home Fires and The Prophet. Kouka’s themes are profound and reflective and deal with issues often ahead of their time and always with humour and a deep humanity. In interview with Dale Husband for Waatea News, he talks about his international career and in particular his leadership roles and how his live theatre output is currently reduced to one new work every two years or so. We should all be grateful for that.

Ngā Rorirori (‘the idiots’ or ‘the dimwits’ in te reo pākehā) tells the story of ‘a rural marae that has hit the jackpot – if they pass one final hurdle, that is. The hau kāinga must convince the Government’s Chief Executive of the Department of ‘Whenua, Whakapapa and Whatever’ that they are the true descendants of their eponymous ancestor. If successful, the vast coastline in their rohe reverts to their ownership, garnering millions of dollars… in back rent alone.’

Ngā Rorirori is a classic farce observing close to three thousand years of tradition and is a glittering new version of a convention-ridden older form. It sounds like fun, and it most certainly is, but it’s challenging too. I come away, after considerable reflection, convinced that Ngā Rorirori isn’t simply a clever exercise in style – though it’s certainly that – but that it’s also a work of substance. My great fear in (over) analysing the work is that I will ultimately conclude that I am the idiot in the title and that, along with the characters, I have been the victim of a big, if entertaining, theatrical con.

I reach this conclusion based on the fact that the excellent set seems to give it away. A juvenile assumption? True, but a set with many doors does suggest farce and I think I’m probably right. If I’m not, it’s been a fun rabbit hole to have spent time down and I’d suggest my imminent retirement looms. After all, who hasn’t seen door-slamming farces, with mistaken identities, wacky hijinks and, often, out of nowhere, a happy ending?

Ngā Rorirori has all of these and more, so is it a classic farce or a big con? I’m off to do some research to see if my assessment can be validated.

Back in a bit.

Farce began (as far as we can ascertain) with phlyakes, plays adopted from the Greek and championed by the Romans, in particular Terrence and Plautus, in the third century BCE. While never completely dying out, the genre was eventually adopted by French playwrights in the mid seventeenth century and again in the late nineteenth.

The popularity of farce in France has never waned with today’s Comédie-Française (originally ‘La Maison de Molière’ (The House of Molière) continuing to satisfy the French need for stage lunacy to the present day.

Having been charmed out of my socks by Kouka’s farce, it’s odd to reflect on my one visit to the Comédie-Française in 1998 which should have been the benchmark for farce but was instead the most tedious, monotonous, deadly, soul-numbing production of Moliere’s The Misanthrope that it’s conceivable to imagine. It was actually worse than that, and I only stayed past the interval because I needed to assure myself that eventually it did come to an end.

My delicious research rabbit hole (there are many) begins with Plautus, a Roman farceur active 200 or so years before the common era. Yes, it’s a bloody deep rabbit hole! I met Plautus through Shakespeare’s The Comedy of Errors where Shakespeare uses a Plautine plot – two sets of twins – and proves he can write a disciplined farce observing the three classical unities of action, time, and place and make it funny as well.

The Comedy of Errors is certainly a farce but whether it’s funny remains up for debate.

French farce evolved into a distinctive theatrical genre significantly influenced by Plautine traditions. There are exaggerated character archetypes, intricate plotlines involving mistaken identity, loads of physical humour, life’s everyday follies and vices, and pert social satire, and Ngā Rorirori has all of these.

The French mastered farce in the seventeenth century – Molière’s Tartuffe and Thé Miser, and again in the late nineteenth century with Georges Feydeau’s Chemin De Fer and Le Dindon, then it’s a quick nip across the channel to the UK to be confronted by Joe Orton’s Loot, Ray Cooney’s Run for your Wife, Marc Camoletti’s Boeing Boeing, all of which are doing the business there.

From time immemorial, however, critics have lambasted farce as the poor relation of the performing arts, and I guess things like Foot and Marriott’s No Sex Please We’re British and Galton and Antrobus’ When Did You Last See Your Trousers? do justify this criticism to some considerable degree.

Joan F. Dean in Joe Orton and the Redefinition of Farce provides a succinct assessment of why farce is often seen as the tasteless poor relation to classier theatre works: ‘The critical prejudice against farce as an intellectually and artistically valid dramatic genre is probably as old as the word itself. Writing about Italian comedy of the 16th and 17th century, K.M. Lea epitomises critics who suggest the instant intrinsic inferiority of farce as a dramatic genre: “farce is comedy, reduced to commercialism, the best farce is what gives the maximum of amusement for the minimum of intellectual efforts”.

The rabbit hole disagrees and might well use Ngā Rorirori as an example. It’s smart, intellectually satisfying, and the social satire is rich and suitably gruff.

Farce uses stock characters to represent specific societal roles that are overstated for comic effect and who carry the social commentary.

Ngā Rorirori has these characters too, though they’re uniquely people from an Aotearoa diaspora and immediately recognisable as such: the ne’er do well brother with an ego that’s not matched by his intelligence, the smart wahine who reminds everyone of what’s what but her failure to share that she has a boyfriend is at the heart of the confusion, the horny friend who mixes things up and drives the physical farce, the government officer who can’t be who she says she is because she should be a dude and only the boyfriend fits that bill. Much, if not all, of the rollicking physical comedy is plot and character-driven so sourced from within the narrative.

Brother and sister Manuela (Mycah Keall) and Pillow Rorirori (Manuel Solomon) are the last of their line and if they can prove it, great riches await. While Pillow is the sibling with the greatest need, his ego and general dumbness keep screwing up the plan. Each cast member shines in the dance sequences but Solomon is the standout. Gifted with a body that can do anything, he is simply wonderful. Keall is excellent, more lyrical, and a great foil for Solomon. Together they are pure magic.

The plot plays out to a pre-recorded text which is a great idea and mostly works. The quality of the voices is excellent. The pre-recorded text works because the actors are so very, very good. they lipsync superbly, so much so that it is a good few minutes into the show before I can be sure that what I am hearing is in fact pre-recorded. No question about the concept nor of how it was realised, just a small reservation about the timing of farce with a live audience and an immediacy that is possibly lost. It feels as though there is a solution, but it hasn’t quite been found yet. That is assuming, of course, that what I’m suggesting would be an improvement and isn’t a trade-off for the excellence that permeates the rest of the work. A massive plus with using a voice recording is that the actors can never be guilty of letting their characters know too much.

Manuela’s boyfriend Rere Ahuahu (Sefa Tunupopo) turns up unexpectedly and is confronted by a loving Manuela and a horny Stacey Li Paul (Nomuna Amarbat), recently available after a breakup. Much comedy ensues, and both fulfil their roles with class.

The long-awaited boss of the Department of Whenua, Whakapapa and Whatever, Ripeka Goldsmithworthy (Hahna Nichols), finally finds her way through roadblocks (and no doubt potholes, sinkholes, road cones, and unintelligible speed limits), arriving at the marae just in time to amp up the mistaken identity motif that is essential for the enacting of pure farce. Nichols is all class, and benefits, as everyone does, from Kouka’s superb direction.

Not one to muck around, the playwright quickly resolves the identity crises and gives us our longed-for happy ending, a well-earned curtain call, and a satisfied departure into the sunshine of a pleasant spring evening. Everyone wins.

The soundscape by composers Maarire Brunning-Kouka (Mā) and Reon Bell (DJ WYNONA) is absolutely outstanding covering as it does such a variety of contemporary styles. The actor/dancers match this high degree of excellence skipping from one movement style to another with consummate ease while never missing a beat with the voice recording.

A final comment about Kouka’s hard-wired social satire. It’s tart and relevant, as it has every right to be, addresses colonisation, capitalism, and is never far away from the proposed draconian changes to the Foreshore and Seabed Act and the Treaty Principles Bill. Kouka keeps these in front of mind simply by having the whenua under discussion a beachfront domain.

But watch out Manuela and Pillow, coz Matua Shane has you in his sights!

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer

Ngā Rorirori at Te Whaea by Hone Kouka brings together a great mix of dance, theatre, and farce, telling the story of one whānau’s journey to reclaim their whenua. Tawata Productions delivers this with an amazing cast of dancers and actors, combining humour and emotion in a way that keeps you both entertained and reflecting on Aotearoa’s current political and cultural situation.

The stage is set simply but effectively, evoking a marae, which instantly grounds the narrative in te ao Māori. The space is cleverly used, especially when the dancers groove through each scene, showcasing energetic choreography that fills the room with mauri and juicy ahua. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of being tau from the very start, with themes that resonated deeply – especially as the performance touched on contemporary issues like government accountability and global protests. The balance of humour and raw honesty makes the commentary on capitalism, colonisation, and whānau dynamics incredibly relatable, especially for Māori.

Mycah Keall and Manuel Solomon shine as the Rorirori siblings, Manuela and Pillow, whose contrasting values drive much of the conflict. Manuela’s dedication to her whānau and hapū felt very relatable. In contrast, Pillow’s greed and self-interest also hit close to home, echoing similar tensions many of us have witnessed in our own whānau, hapū and iwi. Yet, it’s all delivered with humour, grounding even the most serious moments in levity.

The choreography, particularly by Pillow (portrayed by Manuel Solomon), is incredible! His dynamic movement is crisp, on-beat, and mesmerising. Every sound is an opportunity for expression, and the performers embrace this fully, making the minimalist set come alive. The lighting design also adds to the mood, enhancing key moments beautifully. 

While the voice-over narration could have been stronger – sometimes distracting from the emotional depth of the characters – this minor flaw is easily outweighed by the choreography and the acting itself. I also felt the volume could have been raised for more impact in the opening scenes, but again, a small detail. One other thing was the poster for Ngā Rorirori, which didn’t feature the characters – it felt a bit misleading, unless that was intentional.

The use of local artist Mā’s tracks throughout the production was a personal highlight. The music chosen for each scene was stunning, perfectly matching the energy and emotion unfolding on stage. Loved all the bass and beats here!

Ngā Rorirori is a fun yet deep dive into whakapapa, identity, and balancing tradition with modern pressures. It’s definitely worth seeing if you’re after a show that’s both funny and emotional, and super relevant to today.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer