Christine Brooks, our MC, tells us that the Museums of Broken Relationships in Croatia and Los Angeles are museums dedicated to failed love. Inspired by the idea that the memory of a relationship can be represented through objects, Brooks’ suggestions are called up from written notes audience members have placed in a box prior to the show, detailing objects that represent a failed relationship they’ve had, be it a ripped photo, a child, or “my dignity”.

Tasked with spinning these prompts into stories is a cast of familiar improvisers from New Zealand and overseas: Lori Leigh, Maddie Parker, Clare Kerrison, Jason Geary, Glen Cousins, Laura Irish and Rik Brown. 

They start with a joke-based simile game, saying, “My relationship was like a…” and filling in the blank with the object they selected. Jason starts with, “My relationship is like a dog: I want one but my landlord won’t allow it,” and everyone follows, including Clare (“My relationship was like a book on Norwegian…”, a line so brilliant she lets it stand for itself) and Christine (“My relationship was like a rock on the beach: I picked it up and thought that it was special, and then I realised that there were millions like it”).

The cast then shifts into playing lovers of all forms in open scenes that honour the suggestions offered up.

As they already know each other so intimately and most scenes start in the middle of an interaction, the characters don’t waste time getting to know each other. Their relationships are already in motion, either near the start, in the middle, or at the bitter end. There’s something warm and enjoyable in the familiarity of these portrayals of intimacy: the accidental bumping of noses, the uncomfortable cuddle-sleeping, the ruffling of hair, the long-held eye contact.

The performers aren’t afraid to be intimate with each other, either, softening the barriers of staged love and allowing the audience entrance into their worlds. Take the scene inspired by the suggestion ‘a poem they wrote me’. Laura and Christine cuddle up in bed and Christine sings happily, “roses are red, violets are blue”; Christine builds on this by smudging Laura’s lipstick, and Laura responds, “It’s OK, I probably shouldn’t be wearing lipstick in bed.” Christine gets in the final, charming comment: “I like how you try to impress me. It’s working.” 

There are around seven scenes established before the suggestions are dropped and stories start to evolve, charting the progression of each couple’s relationship. These scenes are founded on familiar romantic tropes as well as the patterns of real-life love.

In one scene, a ring from a previous scene eventually washes up on the shores of Laura and Rik’s romantic holiday; Laura calls out the serendipity with “It’s a sign!” Another, inspired by the suggestion ‘graphics digitiser tablet’, has Lori and Jason playing two fiery lovers brought together for a keynote. Jason starts lecturing Lori with jargon-heavy techspeak, but Lori cuts him off with, “You’re so fucking boring!” This launches into a familiar romantic comedy arc: two people are comically mismatched, realise they can’t live without the other, and then ultimately drive each other crazy again with their differences.

In most of the scenes, the traits that once acted as irresistible attraction eventually tear each relationship apart. Laura and Christine slowly lose their intimacy; Christine’s insecurities irritate and overwhelm Laura to the point that she raises her voice at Christine, louder than she meant to. And Jason gives Lori a gift, a picture of them inside a frame, but their story ends with Jason blaming Lori for, once again, restricting his creativity with boundaries. As he says in their first scene, “Every picture needs a frame”.

The players expertly find the game to be played within each scene. Clare provides strong physical offers right to the very end when she bashfully exits the stage as the loveable cleaning lady/threesome enthusiast. Rik raises the stakes and creates tension in his scene with Jason, who is trying to save their relationship with whatever he is going to pull out of his bag. The scene ends before we see him present it, so we never find out if it worked.

These narratives are interspersed with lighter group scenes and single scenes. Roger Sanders attends to each scene with charming music on the guitar, clarinet and drums, and Darryn Woods’ lighting responds to the action on stage with sharpness and clarity. Each player transitions seamlessly and handles the form with expert precision in what is a hilarious, honest and beautifully crafted show. 

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