Frequent collaborators Carl Bland and Ben Crowder join forces once again, co-directing Bland’s latest play Spirit House. Not unlike their previous work Te Pō, a mystery drives the narrative. But, where in that play the stakes and plot hinged on the metatheatrical, Spirit House centers on the metaphysical. Two men, situated in the same art studio in Thailand, are connected by their shared space and, perhaps, the same woman, yet separated by the sands of time.

Typical of Bland and Crowder, the play toys with an absurdist sense of humour, often using levity to undercut the potentially dark or violent subject matter. [More] 

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer

The component parts of Carl Bland’s surreal mystery play present a cornucopia of theatrical delights: There is a return to the boards by stage and screen legend Ian Mune; an enchanting display of puppetry and special effects; exquisite live music on an array of traditional Thai instruments; the haunting presence of a masked cat and a time-bending storyline that boldly skips across the boundary separating the seen and the unseen.

Holding it all together is a riddle that hinges on the identity of a woman who visits a remote Thai studio occupied by a famous New Zealand painter during the 1930s and in the present day by a conceptual artist who is developing a project on the legacy of the earlier occupant. [More] 

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer

I’ve just seen one of the most richly complex, multi-layered, deeply challenging and fully satisfying pieces of theatre I’ve had the pleasure of enjoying.  Oh, and funny, let me not forget to mention that it is very funny.  

A spirit house is a shrine to the protective spirit of a place that is found in the Southeast Asian countries of Burma, Cambodia, Laos, and Thailand.

Karl Bland’s wonder-full script for Spirit House transcends conventional theatre modes while incorporating many – naturalism, fantasy, melodrama, absurdism, mime, puppetry and slapstick – to provide a magical evening of invigorating and spiritual beauty that is all too rare in New Zealand theatre.

I thank the gods for his writing and for the courage of Auckland Live, Fringe, Theatre Stampede, Nightsong Productions, producer Shane Bosher, as well as directors Ben Crowder and Karl Bland, that we are gifted this extraordinary work. I am challenged to do justice to it in this review. 

“Look at me. Keep looking at me.  Keep me in your sight.  Because nothing remains of what we see.”  

Two artists occupy the same studio in Nong Kai, Thailand. Ian Mune is extraordinary as Charles, a mature painter in the early twentieth century, trying to capture moments in time, in his memory, in his mind, on canvas with oil and pigment.  I heard Karl talking to Kim Hill on RNZ, saying he likes to see older actors on stage because “they bring history”.  Ian also brings endurance (he works bloody hard), decades of stage experience and great technique.

In the twenty-first century, we see Steven, played by Tim Carlsen, less an artist than a brand, trying to produce commercially viable work in a more philistine world, while suffering crises of confidence, of conscience, of sanity.  Tim is an actor of physical presence and intelligence and is always a pleasure to watch.

Mia Blake is translucent as Sonia, a facilitator in both their worlds; a muse, if you like; a provocateur, an inspiration. And expiration. Mia deals exquisitely well with the abrupt time switches and the magical appearances and disappearances,  and is a perfect conduit between us and the world of the the room in Thailand.

And then there is Claude the cat, furry friend to all. Or is that purry foe? Don’t be clawed by Claude!  Min Kim realises him superbly with great physicality and a tremendous mask from Main Reactor. 

But whose world are we in?  Charles’s mind and memories, Steven’s desperate strategies or Sonia’s other-world of light and shadow? Or are they all a figment of feline imagination? 

With a welter of words and images, we explore fantasy and reality, memory and desire. What is real? What is wishful thinking, what is projection?  Where does self-examination become self regard, reflection become narcissism? There is so much to absorb, it’s impossible to intellectualise; best just to let the effect accumulate and move you.

This richness becomes further enhanced by a beautiful set, designed by John Verryt, Rachel Marlow’s subtle and effective lighting, John Gibson’s music and sound design and, most evocatively, live music played on stage by Pongsaporn Upani, using traditional Thai instruments, vocal effects and a theremin.

This is a heartily reccomended production, richly rewarding and quite unlike anything else you’re likely to see on stage anywhere else at the moment.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer