I really am old enough to remember when politics in New Zealand was an indecent act committed by older men wearing RSA badges in the privacy of Parliament. The public preferred the brutality of 10-man rugby and the stench of bad beer served through a hose. The satirical shows I knew were sporadic and fitful in quality. The game of real politics then went though many painful manifestations from soap opera to a tepid religion lying somewhere between voodoo and Lloyd Geering. Then the shows improved out of sight.

(Shame on me) I finally caught up with Public Service Announcements during the current Comedy Festival. I naively walked into an auditorium that was humming with loud expectancy I never thought would be consummated in performance. My God, was I wrong. This seventy minute show is a veritable humdinger. It boasts eleven actors working out of a starkly empty space with three linear entrances/exits plus the most minimalist of costumes.

Bang up to date PSA: A New Dawn delivers an over, under and through view of our newly-cobbled together government replete with a badly pregnant Jacinda (Anya Tate-Manning), a to-the-life Winston (Allen Henry) and a gloriously muddled Simon (Tom Knowles). Its supremely versatile cast spins a fine web of intrigue across the coalition parties and the Opposition. 

All are acutely observed. The show surges along on total confidence in the accuracy in its portrayals and the cleverness of the sharp ideas underlying the words. They get well south of the skin whilst persistently making good sense.  

The format and tone are not unlike that of the wildly successful TV show The Windsors. That offering is about 15% plot and 85% ruthless characterisation of, mainly, the Royals. The PSA model is around 5% plot and 95% character. It works a treat though and, I would suggest, with considerably more punch than the The Windsors who are haplessly each cemented into their woeful public figures.

PSA: A New Dawn luxuriates in that blessed theatrical ploy of being able to sweep up a personality from nowhere, suck out their comic essence and slickly move onto inhabiting someone else. And you can only do that if you are blessed with much talent.

Co-writer Carrie Green is one minute Paula Bennett and, the next, Marama Davidson. Yet their essential cores are played resoundingly true at both polar extremes of the personality spectrum. Winston Peters turns into Mihingarangi Forbes on a sixpence. Young Nikki Kaye (Hannah Clarke) can stroll in as your auntie Annette King and the ideological haze buzzing around their heads magically changes colour.

Even the studiously bland Grant Roberson (Salesi Le’Ota) in an endearing Yogi Bear suit with red tie (at the drop of a suit) does a hilarious musical turn as the forever bland Julie Andrews. James Shaw (Patrick Davies) bounds out of his short Greens pants to emerge as the reborn Andrew Little – like you have never seen him before. It’s all a bit gobsmackingly good. 

Nothing lags while real insights pop up from nowhere. I must say though that portrayal of a frustrated Gareth Morgan is a classic beyond words. The hell with Trump, give that prize to Michael Trigg. Sophie Hambleton, Hayden Frost and Matt Staijen-Leach complete the cast with nine roles between them.

When you have team as impressively integrated as this one it is odious to single anyone out. They are all well on top of their more than presentable material. There is no showboating. They all milk their characters only to the extent necessary to convey the specific political ideas and feelings the script demands.

Another big accolade to director Isobel MacKinnon for a show that really moves. 

Overall I would say this. The history of New Zealand satire reveals an awful lot of comments that the cast “took no prisoners” or they “butchered the politicos without mercy”. PSA, by contrast, does not deal in Game of Thrones massacres. On the contrary it seems to grudgingly respect the people it lampoons, keeps them alive for another show, accepts that the greasy pole is not a nice place for anyone to be. It retains its humanity behind a veil of well-judged acerbity.

The ultimate litmus test of comedy is sincere laughter. This show supplies tonnes of it. A great dessert with a happy audience means a grand (half) night in the theatre. Furthermore if this snazzy team were to form a party and run in 2020 I will pledge them my vote right now. They are a cut above.   

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