Young pregnant Lydia (Hayley Dallimore), her partner Jacob (Daniel Coppersmith) away with the navy, is reading old letters she found in her old grandparent’s house where she lives.  Beginning with a letter by her grandmother Etta, she becomes Etta and conjures the ghost of her husband Patrick (Tom McRae) who was away at World War II at the time.

Interspersed with Etta & Patrick’s letters to each other, Jacob writes from Iraq, sharing his heart and soul with his "two most favourite people" – Lydia and their unborn child.  The story arc of the younger couple is told in reverse, as though time is sucked backwards into the vacuum created when Lydia’s mind excavates her genetic past.  Maybe.

Dallimore’s performance is strong and engaging, the distinction between her dual characters of young kiwi lass and frail old biddy quite convincing.  Coppersmith’s Jacob is at first a tad stilted but quickly warms up to deliver a likeable and idealistic guy who wants to do all he can to make the world a better place to live.  McRae, as the young Patrick of the forties, appears less connected to his character; his portrayal somewhat stereotypical and forced.

Under John Humphries’ direction, all three actors to varying degrees seem more comfortable in soliloquy as they relay their letters to each other across the world, than when interacting with each other.  Also, details like Jacob’s less than diligent boot shining and the sharpness of Patrick’s whittling knife could further enhance the work once mastered.  The overall performance is rather measured, almost cautious, despite some philosophical declarations such as "always choose the difficult right over the easy wrong".

I confess to wondering if Etta’s comment "each wound incurred tending life makes us stronger", in her final letter to her deceased Patrick, is a deliberate reference to Nietche’s famous philosophical work Man & Superman, which Hitler in turn allegedly plundered for Nazi propaganda?  Or not.  The script is credited to Coppersmith, Dallimore, Humphries, McRae and dramaturge Elizabeth Mills, who herself commends the dedicated support she had from the others when honing what is to this point a pretty decent draft.  The title alludes to the parallel of the expecting wartime housewife and the queen bee in the hive, with their soldiers and workers out tending to the worldly affairs.

Rudimentary set, no light changes and the only soundtrack the immortal ‘Danny Boy’ sung by the cast.  Some simple effects such as a spotlight on the actor when reciting a letter, would undoubtedly enhance the impact of those abstract scenes, but ultimately this play could be performed anywhere at the drop of a hat.

Billed as a work in progress, my assessment of The Honey Keeper is that it definitely warrants further development.  Just when I thought I’d had my fill of war stories an inspired young collective presents this fresh yet timeless angle, demonstrating in some small part the connection all people and stories, and insects, share.

Footnote: Re. schedule versus geography; the wistfully haunting folk songs of pre-show musician Claire Duncan, which it’s a shame to miss, begin at 6 o’clock in the Cellar Theatre of the Corban estate Arts Centre, at the end of Lincoln Road off the Northwestern motorway.  The evening rush hour traffic is quite heavy almost right up to the 7pm start time of the play.  My guest, coming from South Auckland, spent nearly two hours in traffic, and credit must go to the front of house for delaying the curtain for various latecomers.  Once the Estate is reached it is also difficult to navigate to the end of the driveway and locate the actual theatre.  It feels kind of cool to be in the know, but I gather the standard thespian attitude is in favour of accessibility. 

In summary: someone with some money, please fund a clear signage system for the Corban Arts Estate campus!

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