The tangihanga for a loved husband, father, uncle, grandfather and friend will always bring whānau together, or not. It’s an ideal premise for a talented actor to recreate a diverse range of people and relationships for a one-hour ‘slice of life’ drama.

With seamless skill, their creator Kristyl Neho embodies 30(!) of them, some fleetingly, others more frequently. Simply clad in basic black with a sleeved deep-blue koru-patterned cape, the (probably unintended) hint that she has a superpower is appropriate. Only one character has a distinguishing item of clothing; the rest simply ‘become’ within Neho’s ‘being’.

A gentle guitar and waiata soundtrack gives way to pig-like snorting that turns out to be snoring, signalling the comedic irreverence that will counterpoint the grief, and foreshadowing the inevitable slaughter of pigs for the hangi. Jess visits her Dad, known to all as Karanipa, in the hospice and amid their loving banter is charged with knuckling down to her studies and looking after ‘Mum’ when he’s gone.

Known to all as Nanny Ma, Jess’s Mum is partial to Milo (the drink), makes it for Karanipa – and later makes it for the tamariki and mokopuna. A coping mechanism, perhaps. She recalls the first date that led to a 60 year marriage, but it’s Jess who answers the call to come to the hospice because “he’s on the way out.” That she arrives upbeat and full of good news about passing her papers is fair enough if she’s misunderstood “on the way out” so has not already phoned other close whānau. But it does seem odd that he is alone at this critical time. Perhaps the hospice is very short-staffed.

The poignant sound of a kōauau (Māori flute) marks the transition towards the tangihana, and a long box frame containing blue fairy lights and draped in a cloth represents Karanipa’s casket. Only now does Jess phone the whānau, commencing the gradual introduction of her older sisters, Moana and Kay, then key aunties, uncles and cousins.

It is assertive Aunty Hana who takes charge at the marae, designating and delegating jobs to whānau members who respect her mana and obey without question. Each character is revealed to us in action – apart from the old and infirm – enriching our awareness of, and engagement with, this mostly close community.

They range from deaf Uncle Tama, able-bodied Rangi and Matiu putting down the hangi, flighty Tiffany, and Tamara who has transitioned from Tamati provoking a diverse responses, to the youngest moko, Mikaere. His fascination with the face of laid-out Karanipa is gently indulged by Nanny Ma – whose explanation that Karanipa has joined the heavenly father in the stars gives meaning to the little blue lights.

Not all is ka pai, however. The Aunties are aghast at the prospect that Kay will bring “him” – which she does, exposing a 30-year rift that her sister Moana has not got over. Then there’s Aunty Margaret (unmarried and childless), adorned in an ostentatious tangi hat, who is poised to bring a family secret to light and delights in dropping hints.

The formal funeral service brings others to the fore. I do find it odd that pre-recorded dialogue is used to recall past events – as it has been earlier for a couple of phone calls. For me, it tarnishes the wondrous alchemy of a multi-character solo performance.  

And so to the big reveal of the “truth” Aunty Margaret insists on telling. As with many elements, the script (by Kristyl Neho with her co-director Eunice August Smith contributing) sets up the moment well. I won’t commit spoiler crime here, but have to say the outraged reactions from those who knew and wanted it hidden obscures the response of the person most affected.

Would it be possible to achieve an impactful moment of truth that brings our focus and empathy to that person? Is this a dramaturgical or directorial problem to solve? Or have I missed something because my mind has become too cluttered with trying to untangle the web of deceit and the reasons for it?

Having started with Jess and Karanipa, it sits well to end the play with Jess alone at his grave some time later (after the unveiling), sharing her thoughts and feelings. Love has many shades within extended families and we’re left with a sense that it’s nurturing love that has prevailed and endures.

Also enduring are the impressions Kristyl Neho gifts us of a richly variegated whānau. This BATS season is brief, before it heads north (see details here).

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