The glib gag would be that The Chathams is a chat with a couple of hams but they’re better actors than that, even if one does play a pig. The show is, however, an illustrated talk about their trip to the Chatham Islands intercut with some funny sketches. Or some sketches inspired by their trip to The Chathams linked by an illustrated talk.

Toby Leach opens the show as a Weka whose dorky walk morphs into Celtic dancing: a nice way of potting part of the history. It emerges that while mainland New Zealanders call themselves Kiwis, Chatham Islanders call themselves Wekas. “Ya weka!” as a pejorative term therefore has no place here. Respect for their hosts over the five days they were there precludes any taking of the proverbial piss.

Jonny Moffat joins Toby for a mimed shipboard sequence which appears to evoke the whaling days of yore but when hand-thrown harpoons don’t work it morphs into a cartoonish ‘human cannonball’ thing. Because this turns out to be a ‘pre-title’ sequence, it may be allowed its own rules but in retrospect it is an early warning of the show’s lack of clear purpose.

Great wodges of past tense narration supplant potential present action dramatisation – e.g. of the air hostess turning out to be their barmaid too; of Jonny discovering his family history connects to the Chathams … The promise of the subtitle – we’re f#!king sick of the silence – only gets a mention in the closing song. A playwright worthy of the credit would have worked such threads into a bigger picture, or discarded them.  

The sketches are random, presumably selected from the improvised devising process for their short-term theatrical wit rather than any value in contributing to a story that resonates beyond its component parts.

Yes, the ‘training video’ on various Chatham Island hand-waves is funny. The ‘no place for an umbrella’ sketch is wonderfully whimsical in and of itself. The pig hunting yarn, which contrasts the wild boar’s story with the lead bitch pig dog’s story, gives us an earthy taste of island life.

Also amusing are the water skiing / shark incident and the Cray Brothers comedy gig (though why they have American accents escapes me). And the lesson about saving the Black Robin is quite cleverly presented.

But all the sketches go off on tangents or have whacky endings that reek of creating through improv (a.k.a. premature performance syndrome) rather than dramatising to fulfil a major objective. O for a playwright of skill who would transcend these bright lads’ inventions and make an actual play out of all this raw material!  

Is it significant that Toby, Jonny and their director Eryn Wilson don’t even give themselves devising, let alone writing, credits in the printed programme? Eryn, in his director’s note, says “trusting instincts was vital” but actor/performer instincts are not enough when creating a 50-minute scripted show.  

Many will be attracted to The Chathams because Toby Leach was part of the devising teams for Wheeler’s Luck and GAS (both of which used quests or ‘a problem to be overcome’ to drive the dramatic narrative). Jonny Moffat’s work in The Blackening (written by Paul Rothwell) and respected actor Eryn’s debut as a director add to the attraction.

They went to the Chatham islands with the purpose of gathering material to make a show. The result lacks any purpose beyond filling 50 minutes with random entertainment based on their trip. We have every right to expect more from these three. Acting should be a means to an end. Just watching clever acting is not enough, except maybe for their friends and fans.
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The Chathams – we’re f#!king sick of the silence is the directing debut for Eryn Wilson. In a somewhat offbeat way it presents experiences gleaned from a five day trip to the Chatham Islands by the show’s actors and presumably the director.

Upon leaving the theatre I was none-the-wiser as to why these remote islands hold any special significance for the show’s creators beyond its seeming to be an interesting place. This contributes to a lack of context within the show that gives it a somewhat awkward feel.

The show itself is made up of a series of sketches which intersect a narrated slideshow of the trip to the Chatham Islands. The sketches are a mix of mime and comedy sketches which often depict the local fauna of the islands. The mime is quite entertaining, especially when its is apparent what exactly being depicted, and both Jonny Moffatt and Toby Leach show a strength in physical comedy.

The sketches are a little less engaging, choosing often to depict the islands animals such as the wild pig or endangered black robin in a way that seems more like Saturday morning children’s TV than an attempt at comedic theatre. Their strange depiction of an undersea stand up comedy club is particularly poor, consisting of little more than a string of seafood puns with the only connection to the Chatham visit being a claim that one of the crustacean comedians was the crayfish they caught.

Some depiction of the colourful locals, that you could just tell were at the fringes of this travel story, would have probably done this show better service than its more obscure sketches.

The narration, which is very well prepared, helps carry the show through any awkwardness associated with the sketches. Toby Leach plays a straighter, more staunch, presenter and Jonny Moffatt is more hammy and over-the-top. Perhaps if the director got Moffatt to tone down the narration it would improve both it and the sketches by creating more of a difference between the two.

This show ends on a song which is probably the best part of the whole performance. It gives us a feel for the kind of people that inhabit these tiny rocks to the east of New Zealand. It wasn’t very funny to me but then again maybe the humour is just different out there on the Chathams. 
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