“If something burns your soul with purpose and desire it is your duty to be reduced to ashes by it. Anything else will be another dull book in the library of life.” (Charles Bukowski)

This is quoted in the programme notes by one of the cast of Te Rakau Theatre’s mammoth production The Undertow. It is an apt reflection of the attitude, emotions and performances of those involved.

The Undertow comprises four separate yet linked plays, presented by a cast of 35, led by veteran performer Jim Moriarty. They portray pivotal events from our country’s history, spotlighting the fate of the tangata whenua in Te Miti, at Ōwhīro on Wellington’s south coast, as the Kenning settler family takes root in the colony.

The performance space at Te Papa’s Soundings Theatre, with minimal set elements and artfully thought-our props (production designer Tony De Goldi) lends itself splendidly to this production. The staging by director Jim Moriarty and a large choreographic team), sound design (Busby Pearse-Otene, operated by Helen Pearse-Otene), lighting (Lisa Maule, operated by Giovanni Maule) and authentic costuming (Cara Waretini) all enhance what the actors are doing.

The audience is welcomed – or is it threatened? – into the theatre by crouching, grimacing cast members to Part One of the Quartet: The Ragged, set in 1840, at the dawn of the great new British colony at Port Nicholson.

We see passengers who have endured the voyage from England – exhausted, disoriented, barely articulate – and waiting Māori, all staves and high footed prancing (whakaeke).  

It doesn’t take long for the inevitable clash between Māori and newcomers over land rights to develop. Carefully planted boundary pegs are ripped up, despite the Pākehā protest that they are in possession of a bill of sale from the respectable New Zealand Company.

Contrasting with scenes and characters depicting the growing land and culture conflicts are delightful courtly indoor settings where ladies and gents in Victorian garb dance sedately and discuss the merits of portable colonial cottages.

Moriarty, cloaked and top-hatted, as the hospitable Te Waipouri, welcomes the newcomer Samuel Kenning, played by Matthew Dussler, and expresses the hope that he won’t mind a diet of fern roots.

A possibly more telling line from another character on mixed marriage is: “You’re part Māori when you’re marrying a Pakeha, but a whole Māori when you commit a crime.”

The deranged castaway Borrigan (Noel Hayvice), a dangerous plaything of young Maaka and Amira (Tamati and Hariata Moriarty) is an inspired dramatic creation and his tragic fate – recalling Shakespeare’s Titus Andronicus – brings The Ragged to a powerful end.

[See reviews of earlier productions of The Ragged in 2010 and 2015.]

If The Ragged is powerful both in theme and portrayal, Dog and Bone, set 29 years later, is even more so.

To set it up, the cast, all performing as dogs, invade audience space, obviously with much canine delight. “The dog is like our people; he will not beg,” declares one character.

Opening dialogues between husband and wife Taiki and Hannah-May Kenning (Reuben Butler and Greer Phillips) and her father William Beamish (Ralph Johnson), wherein exposition is interspersed with interrupted sexual passion, exemplify playwright Helen Pearse-Otene’s skills.  

Settlement of the Wellington region remains the theme, with the focus on the ensuing relationships amongst Māori and between Tangata whenua and Tangata Tiriti. Conflict between characters and powerfully staged war scenes provide this piece with a rich embroidery of history.

A strong central narrative thread weaves through the diverging relationship between Te Miti-raised Kenning brothers Taiki, a scout for the Colonial militia, and Kuritea (Manuel Solomon), an active supporter of South Taranaki warrior prophet Chief Titokowaru’s campaign against the ‘land eaters’. 

Other highlights include Nova Waretini-Hewison and Milia Moriarty’s acrobatic entry and duet evocation of a tree; two Pākehā women (Unity Brown and Mearn Houston) praying for husbands; the Lord and Lady fantasy played out by Hariata Moriarty’s blind Miss Emily and Johnson’s old man Beamish …

And in the climactic Taranaki land war scene, a dialogue between bothers Taiki and Kuritea movingly delineates the wider dialogue between Māori and Pākehā values, capped by the poignancy of Kuritea’s decision to make Parihaka his home.

Both plays require audience concentration to follow the complexities of plot. A tendency to shout lines lessens their emotional impact. But the physical discipline and cohesion of the highly active 35-strong cast, and their ensemble singing, are impressive.

Together, The Ragged and Dog and Bone form the first half of an astonishing theatrical marathon – and a marathon well worth running. The second pairing is Public Works and The Landeaters. 

[See reviews of earlier productions of Dog & Bone from 2012#1 and 2012#2, and 2016.] 

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