Devised by French actor Joan Bellviure, Le Dîner has been performed many times by Collectif Jacquerie with a cast that has includedexpat Kiwi Juliet O’Brien. Now O’Brien has brought it to Wellington and, as director, she has aligned a formidable cast of vastly experienced performers for its first season ever outside Europe, produced by The Improvisors.

A dinner party has its own natural structure (I’ve seen it used as a metaphor for how to shape a story in many a writing workshop). The only constants for The Dinner are that a couple will host it, there will be one solo guest and two others will know each other but one will be a stranger to the other three. While each actor has their own character name, they do not know which role they’ll perform until a shuffle and distribution of envelopes by an audience member sees it decided each night.

Thus, on this opening night, Dramaturge/Emcee Nic Gorman facilitates the revelations that Jane (Anna Kennedy) and Peter (Mark Wright) will host the dinner party, Denise (Lori Dungey) will be the solo guest and Jonathan (Ian Harcourt) will bring the ‘mystery guest’ Alan (Tim Gordon).

Colour-coding on our tickets divides us unto five groups. Out of earshot of the others, each actor asks their group to offer and select answers to a range of questions that determine such things as their occupation, style of clothing, relationships with other characters, past history, secrets, likes, dislikes, desires … etc. The questions vary for each role and we are warned every detail will not necessarily emerge in what plays out, given the nature of long-form improv. Fair enough: the evolution of the scenario moment-by-moment, honouring and building on whatever emerges, and referring back to what’s been established, all contribute to dynamic and satisfying outcome.

Once seated, Gorman works with us and sound operator Patrick Davies to randomly select numbers from 1-25 that give us three songs to choose from for an opening and closing track that will help establish a mood. By acclamation we select ‘Africa’ by Toto. And so begins a dinner party that has never occurred before and will never happen again.

Birthday-girl Jane is clearly ready to party and instantly interprets and plays with Paul’s appearance in rapper clothing. His manly occupation is counterpointed by a very unusual hobby-cum-passion that will lead to the play’s immortal closing line, “It’s been raining. Be careful you don’t tread on a frog.”

Meanwhile Jane’s job as a bus scheduler generates much topical commentary, especially when it turns out the bloody busses are what have caused Alan to arrive late. Denise’s profession as a real-estate agent combines with her concern for the state of the planet while public service policy wonk Jonathan is at odds with the new government and also interested in astrology .

As the sister of Jane, Denise’s past involving Paul combines with her current attractions to foment intriguing subtext – but the big revelation about Jane’s past with Jonathan trumps all that. Speaking of which Trump inevitably enters the fray (he will undoubtedly be the uninvited guest at many of the dinner parties to come) and it turns out those whose ‘givens’ include being pro-Trump have to juggle that with quite contradictory character traits.

But it is Alan’s multi-facetted past, current occupation, judgementalism and innate compassion combined with totally opposite political views that create the most complex character. And it’s this aspect of the concept that enriches the evolving scenario most, proving the value of the initial request to each group not to make their answers to the question consistent with each other. The actors thrive on rising to the challenge of reconciling any contradictions – and the result is a ‘world’ that rings unnervingly true-to-life.

The five actors are brilliant at knowing when to pursue and develop a story element and when to switch to another track – which again replicates the dynamics of many dinner parties. They share an innate sense of rhythm and pace and, most importantly, are not afraid of silence. The light and sound operators – Jasmine Bryham and Patrick Davies – also sense when to end a scene so the scenario can be refreshed.

Marcus McShane’s lighting design, by the way, allows for such things as arrivals at the door to be signified without scenery. I can see no credit or acknowledgement in the programme that suggests who is responsible for collecting and collating the vast array of costumes and props that are at the company’s disposal – let alone the meal they serve up and consume – but clearly all that is a great contribution to defining the characters and enhancing the action as it plays out.

After 70-odd minutes of insightful and topical comedy and revelatory drama, this iteration of The Dinner concludes with joy and sadness, pleasure and poignancy – and a sincere surge of appreciation from the audience. Every character’s life has changed significantly as a result of this evening. Afterwards I hear audience members asking each other about what their characters were given to work with, and all are clearly impressed at how so much was incorporated so seamlessly and dramatically.

In recommending it highly I have to add a warning: you may feel compelled to go more than once to see how differently each dinner party plays out. 

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