I have to admit I can’t help comparing Well with two other homegrown shows about mental illness – Freya Desmarais’ HOME / The Hilarious Comedy About How I Nearly Killed Myself / A Play About How I Nearly Died But Didn’t Then Learned A Lot About Life Afterward (2013) and Rob Mokoraka’s SHOT BRO: Confessions of a Depressed Bullet (2016) – if mostly to note its point of difference.

All three use theatre to reveal and share abiding truths about mental illness. Both HOME and Shot Bro are autobiographical, and the fact that their perpetrators are right there in front of us, using their exceptional creative skills to share their experiences and enlighten us through entertainment, adds a crucial dimension to their shows. They have survived, they are brave, they are generous and we are the grateful recipients of their gifts.

Well has been distilled and structured by writer/ director Zoe Joblin from over thirty interviews with mental health patients. It is ‘verbatim theatre’ in that most of what is said by the three actors – Courtney Rose Brown, Annabella Gamboni and Aimee Smith – was said by an interviewee.

Other verbatim plays, like The Keys Are In The Margarine (about dementia) and Munted (about the Christchurch earthquakes), have generated a particular theatrical sorcery by precisely replicating vocal intonations and physical behaviours from the sound or video recordings. It is not clear whether the performances in Well are likewise informed – and it makes a difference, I think, to our perception.

While all three actors are intent on ‘becoming’ the person whose words they are saying and feelings they are feeling – mostly as they comment on, rather than re-experience, significant episodes in their stories – there are times when I get the discomforting feeling that someone is doing ‘crazy person’ acting. If I knew this was mirroring actual observed behaviour I would, of course, find it acceptable. Most of the time, however, I do believe in the truth of what they are saying and how they are being.

The show opens with noise: a cacophony of recorded voices jumbling the ubiquitous labels and jargon … as visual static is projected onto an angular arrangement of flimsy gauze backdrops (designed by Kasey Collins). A small square bath sits centre stage and is effectively utilised as each performer progresses – or tries to – from wearing an institutional white nightie to something more individual.

Aimee Smith handles two potatoes as a recurring image (you’ll have to see it to know why), Courtney Rose-Brown does things with glass jars and water, and at one point I notice Annabella Gamboni pushing a small rock as she crawls across in the background. I assume (and stand to be corrected) that these visual and physical elements have arisen from their performance devising process rather than close observation of the interviewees.

There is a subtle three-act structure in Joblin’s script, starting with consideration of what they and we mean by ‘mental illness’, progressing to recollections of, and commentary on, actual experiences of eating disorders, bi-polar highs and lows, anxiety attacks, self-harm, thoughts of suicide and the questions surrounding medication, and resolving with observations on it all from a ‘wellness’ perspective.

All meanings of the title – Well – apply; we get a good sense of how deep the ‘black hole’ can be at one extreme and welcome the rise to a state of wellbeing. Unlike HOME and Shot Bro, however, this is more arms-length, more ‘on the outside looking in, despite our sharing the thoughts and feelings of actual mental health patients.

The important thing is that the interviewees wanted to share their stories and that Women Aren’t Wolves Productions have created this work to bring them to light. The conditions and experiences canvassed in Well are more common than we may like to admit. It behoves us all to listen, empathise and work towards a better understanding. 

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