Elspeth Sandys’ The Body Politic is an ingenious allegory for a political phenomenon that we have mostly observed from afar and which could keep happening. It is even possible on a national scale right here in Aotearoa NZ – most likely from the party that, like Trump’s acolytes, abuses the word ‘freedom’ in its rhetoric … (don’t get me started on that).

Of course levels of dictatorship have always existed in work places, institutions, and on boards and committees. Sandys chooses to embody her microcosm in the Body Corporate of a small block of apartments and the community it purports to serve. Ironically it is Clarice, the solo executive member and self-styled Director of Green Meadows, who utters the quote, “The only thing needed for evil to triumph is for good people to do nothing.”

Also ironically, yet all-too-typically, it is a refugee from another oppressive regime who is most supportive of Clarice – initially. The play begins well after Clarice was elected, so we can only imagine what populist propaganda she used to win the vote. Or was it simply that no-one else wanted the job? Over time her autocracy has become firmly established and the word ‘bully’ is whispered behind her back.

The play opens with a ‘vetting meeting’ for a new owner, attended by the few who bother to turn up. It’s just a formality for the record, since Fetu (not his full name) Watson – a lawyer – has already bought his apartment. Not that a motion is ever put. Presumably Clarice will minute his acceptance to keep things ‘legal’ according to a constitution she has been able to adjust at will, because fear and apathy have given her the power.

As Sandys says in her programme note, “The Body Politic is first and foremost about people. You and me. Everyday folk dealing with the politics of the day. My hope is that, as the story unfolds, it will ring a few bells.” It certainly does. No matter what age and stage you are at, or where you fit in the social spectrum, you would have to be tone deaf not to hear them.

Director Andrew Foster has assembled an ideal cast who embody their roles absolutely. Each character is astutely crafted to pique our interest and prompt questions before their backstories are revealed. Meanwhile assumptions are made – including by us in the audience – before the surprising truths emerge and make us reconsider. A lot of what makes The Body Politic so good, therefore, cannot be exposed in this review.

Jude Gibson’s Clarice achieves the skillful trick of eliciting chuckles at her assertive confidence until we are compelled to think twice about her limited perceptions and limiting dictates. That we come full circle to a compassionate understanding of why she is like this attests to the playwright’s humanity, the actor’s inherent expertise and the excellence of the play’s dramatic structure.

The newcomer, Fetu, is charismatically created by Chris Alosio, best known for his screen roles. His Fetu is charming, witty and attractive until Clarice raises a red flag that makes us think twice. Is it misinformation or not ‘the whole truth’? What would we do as owner/occupiers of the block, when confronted by this? Again our all too human compulsion to judge, evaluate and jump to conclusions adds dramatic vitality to the experience. (I do have to add, however, that everyone I chatted with afterwards mentioned they missed bits of Fetu’s dialogue due to his running words together and dropping in volume.)

The mystery surrounding Lauren Gibson’s Miriam, solo mother of seven-year-old Ivy, includes who paid for her apartment and why. Her blend of susceptibility and self-protection concerning ‘love’ as she tries to fathom the concepts of ‘good’ and ‘evil’ are highly relatable. As always, Gibson (the younger) draws us into her character’s reality with a craft confidence that belies Miriam’s lack of it.  

Sandys could easily have opted to write an entitled ‘stale pale male’ into the ‘dictator’ role, not least “because the rise and fall and possible rise again of Donald Trump had been playing on my mind for so long” – and Peter Hambleton would have risen to it with customary éclat. Instead, he gets to inhabit the much more interesting role of Will, an apparently single man who regrets having voted for Clarice but confines his activism to policing cigarette butts dropped outside the complex – until he expands that horizon. An astutely tempered performance.

As the designer as well as director, Andrew Foster has challenged his cast to create the realities of their characters’ circumstances in a minimalist setting stripped of furniture, doors and windows (although the stage, as always, is a window to our world). A teal blue floor and wall features one bright white stripe. As the action progresses, slats are removed to reveal words that initially represent agenda items then morph into (spoiler alert?) protest slogans. From the outset all four characters included us in direct address comments and plot links that keep us aligned to time, place and action.

Marcus McShane’s lighting design includes rows of repurposed light boxes overhead that add a warm wash to the subtle illuminations imperceptibly operated by Kate Anderson – including into the auditorium as Foster ensures we feel included and even implicated as part of the problem and/or solution.

Credibility questions do arise if we take the scenarios literally but amid this era of global and local socio-political upheaval, anything is possible. The point is, those bells do toll – and they toll for us all.

The Body Politic cries out to be embraced.

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