Mervyn Thompson in his solo autobiographical play Passing Through paid tribute to Bruce Mason and The End of the Golden Weather by describing Mason as sculpting in his mind "a fort of magic, a shield of images, shored up against the vanishings of time." He also described Golden Weather as "larger-than-life and truer."

Bruce Mason (and Mervyn Thompson for that matter) was no stranger to larger-than-life acting and in his ebullient, highly physical performance Stephen Lovatt joins him in capturing the essence of this famous fort of magic of a vanished New Zealand and the loss of innocence of a twelve year-old boy.

On a bare stage (Mason had a chair) and without a single prop, but assisted by some subtle lighting (Jeremy Fern) and the least obtrusive and most apposite music (Keith Ballantyne) I have heard in the theatre for a long time, Stephen Lovatt throws himself, sometimes literally, into the world of Te Parenga with a winning energy, lavish gestures and a delight in the creation of Mason’s characters such as the no-nonsense policeman, the disagreeable Atkinsons, and the pommie English teacher, giving them a Dickensian exaggeration and richness.

At times, however, Lovatt is so loud that he would be able to be heard very clearly in the back row of a theatre three or four times larger than the Illott Theatre but he commands the audience’s attention by playing, in this lightly edited version of Mason’s script, close to the front row, by his bravado, and by his playing the comedy to the full and the reflective passages with a pleasing simplicity.

Bruce Mason’s own performance of Golden Weather is still fondly remembered and since then we have had the film version as well as a play version for 9 actors. And more recently there has been Peter Vere-Jones’s performance and recording of it. Maybe it’s time for an actor to revive another of Mason’s solo works such as the fascinating Courting Blackbird.
_______________________________
For more production details, click on the title at the top of this review. Go to Home page to see other Reviews, recent Comments and Forum postings (under Chat Back), and News.  

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer

When Bruce Mason enunciated his prose poem for a solo actor fifty-odd years ago – and continued to do so in 1,000-plus performances over the next 21 years – his crisply articulated consonants and roundly modulated vowels were entirely valid, not least because the boy who experiences The End of the Golden Weather was, in essence, himself and this was his own voice now. Takapuna, where Mason spent his childhood summers in the early 1930s, is the model for fictional Te Parenga.

Peter Vere-Jones’ year 2000 performance, revived in 2001, was also delivered in resonant, elocuted tones. He too is an actor of the generation trained to sound as little like a New Zealander as possible so that when they do bung on the Kiwi accent, it sounds strangely foreign.

Not so Stephen Lovatt. His man looking back on his boyhood is well spoken, as he should be for the well educated son of a professional father with a sound grounding in religion and classics. But the voice is natural. And his subtle segues into character voices, indeed his total transformations into different characters, are as convincing as they are simply achieved in an instant.

‘Less is more’ is the byword here. Whereas Mason allowed himself a table and chair, Lovatt’s stage is totally bare, albeit graced with excellent lighting (designed by Jeremy Fern, operated by Sean Lynch). The text, too, is astutely trimmed by a good 25 percent, bringing what originally played in two parts over two nights down to a lean 90 minutes without an interval. Devoid of unnecessary decoration, this is a functional rendering of a still-potent tale.

(The boy, by the way, has no name in Mason’s text but Ian Mune’s excellent 1991 film adaptation christened him Geoffrey Crome and the publicity material for this production uses that too, for convenience.) 

As this last summer before puberty takes him from childhood, the joys of a carefree holiday are tempered with radical breakthroughs in understanding about the real world. The absolutes of church (via the Reverend Thirle), state (via Sergeant Robinson, especially on The Night of the Riots) and family (father, mother, sister, brother) all come up for re-evaluation. Even the existence of God is questioned by the "not all there" would-be Olympic athlete, ‘Firpo’, through whom the boy learns important life lessons about humanity and inhumanity.

Aficionados may miss the likes of Miss Effie Brett and her sister Sybil on the beach on Sunday at Te Parenga, or the finer details of what constituted the hilariously heart-rending concert in Christmas at Te Parenga. And wasn’t Firpo mentioned much earlier in the original? He’s tidily contained in The Made Man portion only, now.

One may argue the cuts have been expedient, to fit the perceived needs and tastes of modern audiences. Perhaps. But I see nothing crucial missing and feel the essence of the work is not only preserved but intensified. For the full-blown banquet get the Mune film out on DVD. To rediscover its piquant essence in your own imagination through the magic of live theatre, seize this brief opportunity.

Stephen Lovatt – who incidentally was in the memorable ensemble version directed at Downstage by Murray Lynch in 1990 – is riveting. Mercurial, fluid, fluent, extremely athletic at times and fully committed to each moment, he remains so relaxed with it you have to think hard to fully appreciate the small miracle he and director Mark Clare have wrought.

This superb production simultaneously refreshes and honours the seminal play that arguably launched the modern age of New Zealand theatre. Back in 1957 it was obliged to explain and even justify its intentions. Now it can simply be what it is: a powerfully insightful and poignant coming-of-age story that every New Zealander should be familiar with.

Having worked its way down from Kerikeri to Wellington, The End of the Golden Weather is now heading north again through Masterton, Greytown, Napier, Taupo, Rotorua and Tauranga to complete its run, fittingly, at the Bruce Mason Centre in Takapuna on 3 June at 2pm (click on the play title above for date and venue details).

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer

88 Degrees in the Shade, a new, fresh voice in the Auckland theatre scene, can take pride in their inaugural production. Producer Graeme Bennett and director Mark Clare – with the help of Stephen Papps, and in consultation with Playmarket and members of the Mason Family – have edited Mason’s original 3-hour one man show with a view, in part, to bringing a younger audience into contact with NZ Classics. Their excellent casting decision results in resounding success.

Stephen Lovatt is the consummate player. He strides confidently onto the empty stage, beaming from ear to ear, and stands for a moment. He’s been looking forward to this.

For the next 80 minutes, Lovatt fills the empty space with his abundant talent, immersing himself whole-heartedly in Bruce Mason’s delicious prose. He effectively brings to life not only Mason’s famous story of a young man coming of age, but also sobering images of a New Zealand it would otherwise be hard to imagine existed less than 80 years ago.

It is so easy to conjure up images of tranquil Takapuna, juxtaposed with a community divided in depression, alongside a young man facing the loss of innocence, with Mason’s words to guide. Hearing his masterful use of language, at times pure poetry, then stark narrative, is immensely satisfying. Descriptions such as the angry mob gathered in the gloom as "grey faced eyeless men", and a clergyman as a "huge benign penguin", confirm he is one of this country’s finest playwrights.

The lighting design by Jeremy Fern closely follows Mason’s narrative, reflecting moments such as the sun-drenched beach and the ominous shadow of poverty, with effective placement and a few well-chosen shades. Levels rise and fade like the Takapuna tide throughout the play, yet at all times Fern serves Lovatt as the central focus.

Keith Ballantyne’s incidental music provides a fitting underlay to the performance, although while evocative and moving, on occasion, the volume threatened to over power Lovatt’s voice.

Lovatt’s physicality and fitness is inspiring. At times he throws himself into a scene like a whirling dervish, such as when the two brothers become locked in Christmas day fisticuffs.

Yet Lovatt also uses physical subtlety to define a character: the terse-lipped teacher, the Sergeant’s no nonsense strut, and Geoff’s wide open eyes, are all we need to know the temperament of each person. On occasion, however, Lovatt risks slipping into caricature, such as his portrayal of the wheelchair bound Mr Atkinson.

Mark Clare’s direction is decisive and well executed. Changes in pace and mood, such as the pivotal moment when Geoff speaks of the end of the golden weather, before launching into boyish Christmas day euphoria, are expertly delivered. Clare’s collaboration with Lovatt is strong: within each scene, they ensure movement between characters is accomplished with fluidity and grace.

When Geoff breaks down in tears in front of his younger brother, wracked in the knowledge God and meat cannot provide the liberation for Firpo he tried so valiantly to achieve, Lovatt brings great reverence to Mason’s close.

Producer Graeme Bennett states in the programme that this production will be mounted at the Edinburgh Festival next month. Be sure to see this sublime 80 minutes before it heads overseas.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer