Jess Sayer’s play Wings probes the relationships between three long-separated sisters as they try to reconcile their care for one another with the damaging effects of their toxic upbringing. The story is presented as a road trip, in which the destination is a place – literal and metaphorical – that no one wants to go.  

This production was recorded by RNZ at the The Dark Room at Palmerston North’s Centrepoint Theatre in 2015 as part of their Live on Stage. Now! initiative. It beautifully captures the play’s tone and the actors’ performances, offering a compelling, often witty and ultimately difficult portrait of a dysfunctional family and the limits of sibling loyalty.

We start the play in media res, with two sisters in the car, driving to their mother’s funeral. Quinn, played by director Darlene Mohekey, is a somewhat reticent 30-something who is torn between her obligation to her two sisters, and her distaste for their mother – a nasty religious zealot. She left home ten years ago and has drifted around, and hasn’t seen her sisters since her sudden departure. Barbara (played by Sayer), who now goes by Bambi, is much younger. She’s upbeat and playful, but like Quinn she bailed from home, and has been living in a vegan commune with a bunch of hippies who don’t call themselves hippies since her teens.

They carefully prod at the circumstances of their separation while waiting to pick up the youngest, Mo (Nomi Cohen), somewhere near Mo and Bambi’s father’s house in Matamata. Mo loads the car up with some awkward luggage, and a cage that houses Mum’s morepork, Wings, never mind that the birds are a symbol of death.

The play skilfully explores complex family dynamics. It also asks difficult questions about the extent to which siblings might have obligations to one another, then illustrates in devastating detail the outcomes of some terribly fractured communication. Despite their long period of separation, Quinn and Bambi quickly fall into old patterns. They snipe and sing, tell jokes, talk over one another and rark each other up, all while sizing each other up as unfamiliar adults.

It’s very funny and extremely relatable – not just the sisterly bond, but the short cuts to intimacy and the joys of shared recollection as they try to make up for lost time.

By the time the pair are joined by Mo, who is decidedly out of sorts, it’s obvious that attempts to recreate frivolous childhood games can in no way paste over some serious wounds and some even more damaging misunderstandings. Where the others left, Mo stayed on with their mother. She has suffered for it; the atmosphere in the car becomes rancid and thick with guilt and recrimination. Some of this relates to their relationships with their controlling, manipulative mother. Other secrets have festered away in silence, until now.

The three actors offer nuanced and impassioned performances that move deftly between emotional registers. The sense of latent dis-ease that’s present from the outset amplifies with Mo’s arrival, as the three are forced to come to terms with their savage upbringing, their separation, and the circumstances surrounding their mother’s demise. The play’s breezy opening soon gives way to disturbing revelations, and the emotional and narrative arc is rendered clearly.

For the most part, Wings works beautifully as an audio drama. The limited settings, in conjunction with the intense and sharply drawn characters and relationships, make this a tight little chamber piece. The recording is crisp and responsive. The silences (both comfortable and awkward), the naturalistic dialogue and the sounds of the cars and the roadside, offer a grounded sense of environment. The sharpness of the script and the performances hook me from the opening minutes; I am thoroughly invested in the characters and the unfolding story. Had I not heard the audience’s laughter in places, I might have believed that it was meant to be presented this way.

There is one sticking point though. The play accelerates swiftly to a shocking conclusion – but it takes me a couple of listens to realise what that final, devastating piece of action was. 

#TFA 

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The Dark Room is making its name hosting smaller productions which are light on set but never on acting. WINGS continues this tradition with the only set being the car belonging to the eldest sister, Quinn (Darlene Mohekey). The story sees two of the sisters, Quinn and Bambi (Jess Sayer) on a road trip to pick up the third, Mo (Naomi Cohen) and the pet Morepork, Wings, on route to their Mother’s funeral. Along the way they try to make up for lost time, but their past leads to the discovery of dark secrets that cannot be kept.

All three actresses are superb in their roles, giving the audience fully rounded, believable characters. Mohekey as the ‘normal’ sister running from her past, Sayer as a lovable vegan (hippie) who looks light on the outside but feels things deeply, and Cohen as a darker young adult dealing with the issues left behind at a home she couldn’t leave.

Mohekey and Sayer do a great job of settling the audience in, being on stage while the audience is coming in – never an easy thing to do – while Cohen takes on the huge emotional burden of her character with quiet grace. All three do a great job of conveying the humor of the script, and have a relationship that could easily be that of sisters, rather than cast members. 

The lighting matches the set, with a simplicity that adds to the play rather than detracting from it.  The Dark Room can have sight line issues, but I don’t notice any of these during this show. Having a set that is raised slightly helps. Also very little action happens on the floor, which can be a blind spot for the audience further back.

The play itself was written in 2013 by Jess Sayer: a three time winner of Playmarket’s ‘B4 25’ Award and twice shortlisted for The Adam NZ Award. WINGS has already been produced in Auckland, Wellington and Otago. The play is running from September 2^nd through to the 6^th. It lasts about an hour and it is well worth making the effort to see this production for the few nights that it’s here. 

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