A powerful, older woman is a wonderful thing to watch, and we are not typically used to seeing them represented in film and theatre. In The Coven on Grey Street, there’s not a single young face on the stage; instead, three of Wellington’s most iconic veteran actors – Irene Wood, Helen Moulder, and Hilary Norris – are all aged 75 and older and they grace the stage as witches, whose power is that they cannot be killed.

Playwright James Cain is a Shakespeare fan, and his modern characters are Sybil, Daphne and Fay, the three witches from Macbeth, who have settled in Hamilton, and are finally reuniting after an estrangement. They’ve gathered for the wedding of one sister, Daphne (Moulder), who is 6000 years older than her groom, Shakespearean scholar Ted (Peter Hambleton, The Hobbit trilogy, One Lane Bridge). [More]

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Three women with more than a century and half of professional acting experience between them are – yes – spellbinding in Circa Two’s latest offering. Add the return of a Circa stalwart plus the relatively fresh talents of playwright, director and designers to this simmering cauldron of creativity, and the portents are propitious for an extremely successful season. Book now.

Aware that we’re approaching a spinoff of Shakespeare’s Macbeth that re-imagines the witches in a contemporary Kiwi context, I can’t help but cogitate. In any production of Macbeth, it’s always interesting to see how the three witches – aka the Wayward and/or Weird Sisters – are portrayed. Are they cackling malevolent hags intent on manipulating the man who would be king to self-destruct? Are they objective fortune tellers predicting the inevitable outcome of Macbeth’s fatal flaws? Either way, do their encounters with Macbeth materially influence the outcome? Who is to blame for crowning the head that then gets severed with a broadsword?

By interval at The Coven on Grey Street I’ve decided those ruminations were irrelevant. A few minutes into the second act, however, I discover they are totally apt. A twisting string of surprises (which cannot be revealed here) brings the play to an astonishing yet deserved denouement. In its wake we have to ask, how come more than four centuries of witnessing revenge tragedies has not taught us all that vengeance always dooms the avenger? Why do people in every generation have to learn it the hard way?  

The design elements in this Red Scare Productions premiere of James Cain’s play, directed by Harriet Prebble, are excellent. Lucas Neal’s set features a large Pōhutukawa tree in full bloom overhanging a back garden bordered by a slatted wooden fence and the back door of a semi-rural house somewhere in the Waikato. Isadora Lao’s lighting and Patrick Barnes’ sound design, operated by Xanthe Curtain, animate and punctuate the environment dramatically to manifest the supernatural. And Aimée Sullivan’s costume designs distinguish each character eloquently.

A demure but anxious Daphne (Helen Moulder) sits alone at a lunch table set for three until her ebullient fiancé, Ted (Peter Hambleton), reassures her he will shelter her from any familial antagonism. There is something Daphne wants to be sure he won’t mention. It’s clear they love each other very much and are united in their desire for their wedding to proceed without a hitch (if that’s not an oxymoron).

The offstage but nearly onstage arrival of a noisy car heralds the imminent entrance of the other two sisters and suggests centuries of flying a broomstick is not transferable to driving a car. An unrepentant Fay (Hilary Norris) presents as the bossy sister who couldn’t care less. Or is it a defence against a fear that she’s lost her powers, not to mention the lack of intimacy in her life? Her familiar, after all, is an ancient toad named Paddock.

When Sybil (Irene Wood) deigns to join them at last she seems to be either away with the proverbial fairies or afloat in a different dimension. She claims she’d rather be at home with her ailing cat, Smithers (who presumably has replaced her familiar Grimalkin). She is also grieving for her late mortal partner, Sandy.

Sybil at least retains the power to summon the wind (a power they all had when they crossed paths with Macbeth, in 1040). But is it possible that all these centuries later she could also be losing her powers, or is it her capacity for concentration that’s letting her down? Perhaps it’s their estrangement from each other that has diminished them – i.e. they’ve brought it on themselves.

In conjuring his spin-off sequel, Cain has maintained the distinctions Shakespeare formulated in 1606: First Witch (Sybil) speaks mainly of things that are in the past and asks questions; Second Witch (Fay) speaks of present things; Third Witch (Daphne) looks to the future.

It’s clear the sisters have been estranged from each other for a long time, and for Sybil and Fay this ‘reunion’ at the behest of their junior is happening under sufferance. Did Sybil’s relationship with Sandy break the bond – and if so, what will Daphne’s marriage to Ted do?

Despite his desire to please his beloved by ensuring this pre-wedding luncheon goes well, Sybil and Fay are suspicious of Ted, which only makes him try harder to win them over. They are shocked to discover he knows who they really are – “There can be no secrets in marriage,” Daphne insists – but somewhat intrigued to learn he is an English Literature Lecturer specialising in Shakespeare. “Why?” asks Sybil. A spirited discussion ensues about the real Macbeth versus Shakespeare’s version.   

While knowing a bit about the Bard’s work will enhance your enjoyment, the readily relatable fractious family dynamics and insights into individual vulnerabilities ensure the first Act is very entertaining. It ends with a snippet of one of Ted’s dramatic lectures about Macbeth – or is it?

We return for Act Two to discover big changes have occurred. Characters we thought we knew reveal very different dimensions. Betrayal is rife, treachery is afoot and jeopardy is driving the action now. Well-seeded elements are sprouting and classical themes are being refreshed in a life-and-death power play as natural forces are summoned through ancient rites.

That’s as much as I dare reveal except to offer the reassurance that resolution and equilibrium are not so much restored as achieved, at last (unlike in Shakespeare’s tragedy). The abiding wisdom is that there is more power in togetherness than can be found in trying to go it alone.

As I indicated at the outset, The Coven on Grey Street is a rich theatrical treat on many levels.

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