That fertility, or human reproduction, is a mysterious business is very obvious from what transpires during Seed, Circa Theatre’s current production by NZ playwright Elisabeth Easther.

There are those who can easily get pregnant even when they don’t want to and those, no matter how hard they try, who are never able to conceive. Which is the case with the two sets of close friends in Easther’s play, all of them in their 30’s.

First there is Hilary (Amy Tarleton) who, although she already has a daughter from a previous relationship, is desperate to conceive with current partner George.  But after 3 miscarriages things aren’t looking too good no matter what pills, potions or methods she tries. 

Her best friend is Maggie (Emily Regtien), a solo mum who is still good mates with her son’s dad who is having health issues including possible problems with her IUD.

Then there is Shelley (Tess Jamieson-Karaha), trying to re-establish herself back into the work force as an advertising executive after 8 years raising 2 kids. Her best friend is Virginia (Holly Shanahan), a brash midwife who has neither partner nor kids but whose biological clock is ticking fast.

With moments of side splitting hilarity coupled with those of heart wrenching poignancy, Easther cleverly interweaves the stories of the friends with comments from each direct to the audience. Insightful and revealing, each character shows a different aspect of the trials and tribulations surrounding conception.

And this is aided in no small part by Kerryn Palmers creative and well orchestrated production on John Hodgkins creatively innovative set that allows the action to move seamlessly from scene to scene.

But it is the standout performances of the actors that makes the play come alive, each bringing an honesty and integrity to their parts that make them real and believe so that each emotional moment is felt by both the actor and the audience.

And mention must also be made of the only male in the cast Jamie McCaskill who does an awesome job of playing the many male characters, plus one or two female ones, with a versatility seldom seen on stage.

There are many moments to savour in this production and many that will ring true for a vast majority of the audience making it one that is well worth seeing.

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Judging by the rapturous reception it received on opening night, Circa clearly has a hit on its hands with Elisabeth Easther’s SEED. Post-show the foyer was abuzz with people extolling the excellence of the cast and production and trading stories related to the experiences depicted and issues raised in the play.

Director Kerryn Palmer, a mother of young ones herself, purposely cast four women and one man who all have children (one has a baby on the way), and rehearsals spanned three months to accommodate their various parenting needs. Despite this – or more likely because of it – the most common audience comment was, “Perfect casting!”  

The pear-shaped portal upstage centre in John Hodgkins’ flexible set, centred around a round red bed, appropriately suggests the gynaecological view of life explored in the play. An opening AV montage, created by Anna Lineham Robinson to music composed by Gareth Hobbs, celebrates the fecundity of nature and gets us off to a lively start.

Over the next two hours (plus interval), four women share experiences that offer comprehensive coverage of the procreation paradox whereby those desperate to get pregnant so often cannot while those who definitely don’t want to, do.

With a consummate ease that counterpoints the trials they go through, Amy Tarleton enrols us in Hillary’s story. She works in local government, already has a daughter but now wants another child with her new partner, George (Jamie McCaskill). The physicalisation of their smartphone-scheduled sex, then their attempts to produce the wherewithal for artificial insemination, produce some of the biggest laughs of the night, to be counterbalanced with our very real empathy as they endure the torments of IVF.

Hillary’s ‘unorthodox’ best friend Maggie, played by Emily Regtien, is the solo mum of a son and remains on good terms with his father, David (McCaskill). She has been ‘seeing’ someone else but has no desire for a live-in partner and has had an IUD implanted to ensure no ‘accidents’ happen. As her story unfolds, Maggie’s constant claims that she should feel guilty but doesn’t, leave us to judge if she is protesting too much or is justifiably self-centred in the choices she makes. 

Having returned to the dynamic world of advertising (now that the second child has started school), there is a compelling authenticity in Tess Jamieson-Karaha’s Shelley, happily married to Catholic Matt (McCaskill), as she strives for work/home-life, personal/professional balance. She doesn’t use the Pill because “it messes with [her] head” but the last thing she needs is a third child …

Her best friend Virginia, robustly embodied by Holly Shanahan, has been a midwife for 10 years and now, despite being single, she wants a baby of her own. A pun-prone lush, her drunken sorties into bars are her first resort, followed by attempts to enrol old flames, a gay friend and a blind date – all hilariously played by McCaskill – in her quest. Her last resort is to seek a donor through official channels, which also has a comical edge.  

Both the friendships – between Hillary and Maggie; Shelley and Virginia – are sorely tested as the stories progress, producing the most dramatically powerful scenes in the play. The Hilary and George, Shelley and Matt scenes are strongly grounded too. It is in moments of silence that the home truths land most emphatically, which is a testament to the combined quality of the writing, directing and acting.  

It has to be said, however, that despite the development process that followed its winning of the 2014 Adam Play Award, plus a world premiere season in Auckland, the script remains surprisingly over-written. Easther’s strong suit as a writer is witty social commentary and it’s easy to see why her play looked so clever on the page. But on stage, brought to active life, amid the well-crafted dialogue too many other strings of linguistic pearls stifle the flow of the action. Time and again narrating characters tell us what we have just been shown, or repeat information we have already heard and remember quite clearly.  

It’s not that the age-old device of direct-address cannot be dramatic and/or amusing – witness the soliloquies in Elizabethan, Jacobean and Restoration plays, and more modern works like Kennedy’s Children and The Vagina Monologues – but here they dilute the drama and reduce our engagement by spoon-feeding us and even insulting our intelligence. Easther needs to trust her skills as a dramatist more by giving the action room to breathe and us the opportunity to discover the truth between the lines. If this means exorcising redundant narration, no matter how wittily written it is, so be it.  

The biggest laughs on opening night – and the ‘hear a pin drop’ silences too – are sparked when we are free to ‘complete the equation’, by imagining the bits we can’t see, knowing more than the characters do as they misunderstand each other, or simply by tuning into the subtext. It’s all about the ‘get it’ moment.

What ‘wins the day’ is the thoroughness of Easther’s research and the truth of her insights as embodied by the actors and crafted into a seamless flow by the director, with the subtle support of Phil Blackburn’s lighting, Gareth Hobbs’ sound and Gillie Coxill’s costume designs.

This Seed deserves to flourish.

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