I Betty Ya Didn't Know This About Colonial New Zealand

In a word, this production was joyous. As we follow Betty, a cockney household servant falsely accused of the murder of her masters, along the journey of her transportation, we witness her journey all the way to Australia. She then hijacks a boat to plough on to New Zealand, and then back again, and then back again.

Historical accuracy wise, this play was a sham, but that took nothing away from the delightful play of the four actors onstage, as they changed character, and accent (although perhaps unintentionally), and indulged in sing-alongs, great physical work, and even shadow play, making the portrayal of stabbings, society drinks and sneaky make-out sessions all the more hilarious.

The piece, directed by Daniel Pengelly, starred William Duignan, Andrew Paterson, Phoebe Hurst and Jacquie Fee. This incredibly strong cast carried the play through, with delightful ad-libbing such as ‘It’s alright we’ve broken the fourth wall we can all get on with it now,’ and the questioning of the woman next to me with ‘You look comfortable, good on ya.’ With the air of a great improv show, there was delightful interaction between actors, as they deliberately tipped more than the required amount of water on each other to show sea spray, or cut eachothers solos short, all with hearty grins. Extensive corpsing from Hurst did little to break this magic either, but added to the joy of the actors interactions.

The beautiful set was versatile, clever, and smoothly transitioned from shadow screens into the court house, the prison, palace, and boat. The music, although largely borrowed from other great musicals, had original, charming lyrics, with such simple phrases as ‘Let’s be friends, til the very end’, ‘Whistle while you work,’ or my personal favourite, the very inspiring ‘Life could always be worse’. These songs, wonderfully delivered by strong, distinct voices, wove the narrative with high points of joy and camaraderie.

Overall, this was a great example of confident, powerful actors working with great gusto and a brilliant sense of excitement and fun, on a wonderful script. The clever set and endearing story were delightful, but the joy of the evening was wrapped up in the spirit of the show, which was utterly bloody lovely.  

Stages of Fear

Reviewing the four-part-fright-fest.

 

'I Can Hear Them in the Walls,' as performed by Slave Labour Productions, aimed to frighten. A strong female lead kept up interest, but other than that the piece was a little full, and occasionally comical. We are so desensitized to the terror of unusual psychologies and scary rodents, that it would be quite the feat to pull off a production with a Freudian psychiatrist examining a woman who is terrified of a ‘rat king’, i.e. lots of little rats hanging out in a big squidgy pile. Although the tension in the lead actress’s body communicated sheer terror, the entire narrative of the piece, combined with a comically dated psychological perspective, was ineffective. I was never frightened, never engaged, and found the revelation of the traumatic past of the patient to be predictable. Frankly, I expected it to be far more horrific. Clever lighting and sinister make-up made the piece visually exciting, but it was never effectively scary.

UNDERGROWTH by Pat-A-Cake Productions however, was bloody terrifying. This was a piece that did exactly what I love theatre to do – it left me speechless and sputtering poorly formed sentences for about five minutes after it had finished. Beautifully devised, I have never been so frightened in a production. UNDERGROWTH worked on very immediate adrenalin-inspiring levels, and also on a far more poetic metaphoric level. A particular highlight was the visual of watching McLeod struggle with himself while reaching for a bottle; as well as heart wrenching visual this only spoke volumes of the imprisoning nature of addiction. Another was watching Tuck and another actress seemingly tied together in the middle of the stage, as Tuck frantically tried to comfort her through reminiscing about a day in the sun; watching them dragged apart purely by their own movement was terrifying, but it also communicated the frantic nature of comforting someone about to die. That was why this production as so effective in inspiring fear, we were shown awful images, creatures crawling backwards towards us in the dark, women callously self-abusing, another being beaten relentlessly by her assumed partner, and yet it was really terrifying when it focused around something startlingly human and familiar – it communicated themes of alcohol abuse, addiction, obsessive compulsive behaviours, self-abuse and domestic violence, with barely any dialogue. It is an absolute commendation to the actors and director/writer involved that I was physically squirming in my seat during their performance, hand on mouth trying not to audibly gasp or cry.

 

Making Friends Collective’s piece was heart-shatteringly poor. Ineffective, unnatural blocking combined with a narrative no-one within the production or the audience cared about made for a thoroughly domestic production. The twist was confusing, sudden, uninteresting, and two seconds before the drop of the lights, giving it no satisfactory time to be played out with consequences. It was one of the productions where you spend the whole time saying to yourself ‘There’s no bloody way anyone would do that,’ ‘The police would already be there by now’ and ‘Yeah sure, if there are cops on the way you’re definitely going to kill the cop aren’t you’. The confusing justification for the murders was some vague story about a ‘hole’ in the basement to feed. Whether this was metaphor for some dark desire of the wife, or whether there really was a giant man-eating hole in the basement, (represented by a stage door lit by a red lamp), was unimportant, because we did not find out enough about it to care whether it was real. The somewhat terrifying idea of a flesh-hungry black hole was domesticated to seeming rather tame. I was mostly not very scared, and really just wanted to throw some real agent agents number at them and tell them to bloody cut and run. Suck it up and move house.

 

my accomplice’s production was one of the strongest of the night, but not for inspiring fear. This monologue delivered by Hannah Banks outlined a day in the life of, well, pretty much everyone. It was carefully crafted, beautifully delivered, and spoke to the universal fears of everyday interactions, from strangers on the bus to dark shadows on the walk home. It didn’t inspire fear at all, but instead a sense of warmth and familiarity, because it’s freeing to have your personal and private fears universalized on stage.

 

Merely to be Normal Directors Season 2 - Reviews.

The Zoo Story by Edward Albee | directed by Sam Phillips
A couple of benches, a scattering of leaves, an intellectual well-dressed hotty with an old book in central park, this is how I dream of meeting the love of my life. Instead, I meet a sensitive, patient father of two who is willing to listen to the stories of a bewildering, intriguing young man who has been to the zoo. This piece displays the desired outcome of every time you decide that this time you really will say that cautious hello to someone waiting beside you at the bus stop. This script, tenderly handled by both leads, speaks to the tiny tragedies of everyday life, the small mysteries and charming universalities. The leads play off each other’s energy beautifully, bringing this potentially dull script to life, and although occasionally unlit or looping the stage in awkward blocking, both perpetuate the story honestly and earnestly. The energy was vibrant, the acting magnificent, and my major criticism of the piece is that I wanted the second half straight away.  Bravo.

Ohio Impromptu + Rough for Theatre 1 by Samuel Beckett | directed by Jonathan Price

A page is turned. Silence. Strikingly reminiscent of ‘Waiting for Godot’, the beautiful opening image of the play combined with the thick, delicious dialogue and the stillness of the actors made for a hypnotic beginning. The loneliness and intensity of these men was striking, and I was a little saddened to witness the book being finished, as these two disparate characters became one, and then passed into oblivion together with a long exhalation and the line “Nothing is left to tell...”

And then came the awakening. A gentle crescendo of action, two tragic tales finding solace in mutual misery. The set, versatile and industrial, made for the perfect backdrop to this strange enthralling story, and talcum powder has never been so delicately employed as here (, in every other performance I have seen using chalk it has become an element in itself and a gimmick). The play between actors was invigorating and beautiful, and sustained the energy throughout while the power plays, accents and moments of hilarity created a wonderful feeling of challenge and elation.

Fold by Jo Randerson | directed by Bronwyn Cheyne

Energized. Terrifying. Insane. Offensive. Bewildering. Manic. Sick. Absurd. Scary. These are the elements of ‘Fold’. Effectively acted, we see blank canvas actors portraying 100% happy, (to the point of discomfort,) as we are introduced to what one audience member called a “cross between the future and a toga party”. The monologues throughout see mundane scripting made interesting, by the directing style and the ferocity of the actor’s joy. There is nothing natural about the forced vibrancy of the piece, and it’s mannered, polished standard implies a great deal of preparation and practice. We come away liking only one character, John, as he is pushed from the group of maniacs due to having real world problems, and not joining in with quite as much vivacity as everyone else as they roar with laughter at truly awful jokes regarding rape, race, alcoholism, suicide, refugees and religion. The repetitive laughter, head movements and underwear swaps help us find moments of grounding within the craziness of the show, which creates a great platform structure for the actors to work off of, and they all did incredibly well maintaining the energy and bizarre nature of the piece. Overall, this was an incredibly well handled, shocking show.

Merely to be Normal Directors Season 1 - Reviews.

Komachi by Romulus Linney | directed by Raicheal Doohan
We start the evening by a peaceful river under a beautifully crafted tree, and the enchantment that is created in those first few moments is never broken. There were no weak links in this performance, the movement and timing was polished and accurate, the striking set, detailed costuming and makeup, and subtle lighting and music all worked effectively to enhance the performance without ever being separate or distracting. Everything about this piece was delicate, elegant and professional. Acrobatics and moments of humor heightened and eased the intensity in turn, creating a smooth and enchanting curve. The actors engaged strongly with each other and the script, and communicated powerfully, with great projection and clarity. The emotive messages of the piece were honored, even cherished, by the actors and the director so that overall, this piece was truly beautiful, and I would highly recommend it.

Existence by Edward Bond | directed by Andrew Clarke

A dark and haunting piece, this performance created a sinister atmosphere with inconsistent success. Dealing with the practical issues of a play staged entirely in the dark, the lighting was effective in creating the appropriate atmosphere and in allowing us (mostly) to see some semblance of emotion on the actors’ faces. The piece was incredibly effective in making me feel wholly uncomfortable, which has value, however the disjointed pacing and brief moments of humor created a strange and occasionally dull ambiance. The power plays throughout drove me to want the woman to fight, give up, and then just shoot the crazy bastard. The stage-combat was well blocked, but I believe an overexcited male lead led to a very real danger for the female lead, which made me incredibly uncomfortable, and the cutesy coin-toss to start and hug to end did little to ease the discomfort I felt about the actors physical interactions. The emotion of the piece was effectively communicated, despite the occasional substitution of volume in lieu of emotion on the part of the male lead, but this did not hinder my overall engagement with, and interest in, the performance.

The Lost Babylon by Takeshi Kawamura | directed by Fern Wallingford

Laptop, vodka, coffee; we start the piece by viewing an image of total loneliness. A confusing context and a weak male lead led to an early disinterest in the piece. The blocking was consistently unrealistic and ineffective, and the music was often distracting. I couldn’t help but be struck by the irony of the line “It’s all about not boring the viewer.” The moments of excitement, engagement and humor were found in the conspiracy between soldier and writer, and in the strength of the female lead, especially during her monologue, although I found the use of media unnecessary, and would’ve loved to see the same monologue using a mirror to interact with the younger sister, a true conflict of self while physically looking at one’s self. Overall, this piece showcased the talents of the female lead with a backdrop of strange set, ineffective blocking, and an irritating use of media.

For more information on the pieces, and brilliant photographs of the creative process courtesy of Sollective, please visit merelytobenormal.tumblr.com

Love should leave a mark. That's why it matters.

Pretty words from Freya. I like them alot.

A children's guide to dealing with Heart-hurt.

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Potentially the most traumatic thing about a break up is the plethora of clichés that are thrown at you by your nearest and dearest. It occurred to me while I was sitting in a tree looking out over the city and silently crying (not even shitting you, I’m that poetic) that heartbreak can make you feel childishly vulnerable and out of control. As a kid I was always too afraid to climb trees, but that activity has been associated with youth for so long, that it got me thinking about other things children do which help with heart-hurt.

Thus was born ‘A children’s guide to dealing with heart-hurt,’ a list of ideas of ways to process losing someone dear to you through children’s activities.

1.     Climb a tree and be awed by the view.

This one is especially easy for Wellington kids, just five minutes from uni, or up to twenty minutes from your home, you can be in a high up green place looking out over the city. Doing this made me feel very very small, and instilled me with a strange sense of peace. If you’re near Tanera Park, walk to the corner of the playing field there, there’s a small circle of grass and you can look out over the whole valley. If you’re in a relationship and reading this it’s also a sweet place to romance your special someone. Same goes for the Trippy tree by the cable car in the Botanic gardens, it’s a great place to watch the sun set alone or with someone you love.

2.     Sketch with pencils.

Only today while digging through a draw of letters and stationary crap to try and hide my ex-boyfriends notes from myself did I come across a very dusty set of pencils. Just the feeling of pencils or crayons being dragged across drawing paper is satisfying. It makes a slight noise, you’re making something, and if it happens to be good you have something to feel proud of and put up on your wall, or the fridge, or to wave in front of the nose of the next flat mate to come home.

3.     Sing along time. Also dancing.

Okay so maybe the adult equivalent is drunk Karaoke on a girl’s night out, followed by getting up on one of the speakers at Hope Bros and yelling the words to Can’t Touch This, but the release has a similar effect. Kids at birthday parties playing musical statues don’t care about making eyes at cute strangers or about moving in the right ways; hell they’re pretty much just jumping and shaking. So jump and shake. It’s also surprisingly exhausting, which can aid with that sleep you’ve been having trouble achieving.

4.     Talk to your imaginary friends.

In a break up you rarely get to say everything you wish you could to the other person, whether it’s telling them that you really love them, or that they can go suck a lemon and you think they’re real gross anyway. Yelling at your exes, although therapeutic, is a one-way ticket to irreconcilable and the awkward glance and avoid at parties. This is where talking to empty space about how you’re feeling can come in handy. When I do this it often takes the form of yelping unrecognizable jibberish into an empty bedroom while crying, but if you can do it in a calm way, all the better! If you have real friends, I guess they can be of use here, but sometimes it feels like everyone’s tired of hearing about your shit or like no-one cares, which is where Wilma and Patrick step in. (You can name imaginary friends whatever you want! It’s like magic! Or being an expectant mother!)

5.     Go to bed at seven.

As frustrating as it is to do as your mother says, a good nights sleep really does make a world of difference. Even if it’s going to bed at seven and not sleeping for four hours, you’ll still be getting your minimum six, or more like your recommended eight, hours of sleep. Although research suggests you can in fact have too much sleep, that sounds like a bunch of quaffle to me, and getting out of bed in the morning is far easier when you’re well rested.

6.     Make a meal, and serve it in the shape of a smiley face.

Food is incredibly important for your well-being, and I’m not preaching a balanced diet here, I’m thinking comfort food. Your childhood favourites might match your cravings somewhere deep deep inside. There’s no shame in eating baked beans on toast for three days straight and spending ten whole dollars on nik nak’s pick n mix is there? (Seeking reassurance and support at this point people). Making it into a smiley face is just something fun and easy to brighten your evening. Again, show this skill of to flat mates, they’ll be so jealous of your yummy edible art!

7.     Write bad poetry and/or poorly rhyming songs.

Just because you creativity doesn’t have award-winning results, doesn’t mean it isn’t useful. Revert back to a frame of mind where rhyming ‘night’ with ‘knight’ was an achievement, and scribble some poetic nonsense about how heartbroken you are. If you’re a bit musical then put it to a rhythm, don an overemphasized English accent and Huzzah! You’re practically Kate Nash!

Note - Reading other people’s good poetry can also be useful at this point, as this can be incredibly cathartic, I’d recommend Neruda for passionate reminiscing and Keats for pretty reflecting.

8.     Act out.

Hell, throw a fucking tantrum once in a while. Be childish. Smash a cup, scream into a pillow, stamp your feet. Very little you do (within reason) will have repercussions, and you’ll find it surprisingly tiring to express rage with your whole body and voice. Before too long you’ll be ready for a nice nap, and as long as no one else is home, you won’t have disturbed or inconvenienced anyone. (Note – Make sure you only damage you’re own stuff, you don’t need to feel guilty as well as upset right now. Also don’t smash cups if you’re short on them, just come round to my flat; we legitimately have too many to fit in our cupboards.)

9.     Run home to mamma and papa.

Go to www.grabaseat.co.nz and book the next flight home. Dealing with serious change is always hard, and having someone there to do your laundry and feed you can be the difference between going crazy and managing things. Another layer to this tactic is the sneaky ninja run home to mamma and papa, because if no-one knows you’re at home then you don’t have to deal with anyone bothering you. Friends are incredibly important, but sometimes you just need to not have to be cheerful and charismatic around people for a while, you’re parents dealt with you as a teen so any vocal interaction is probably something they welcome, but some of your friend’s might only know the smiley outgoing you, and right now you should have a little time to be bloody miserable if you so choose.

10. Have a good cry to your mummy.

Big sister/brother also works in this context. Call someone who has known you longer than you’ve had cognitive recognition of your own identity, and tell them how shit you’re feeling. A particularly memorable piece of wisdom that my mother gently spoke to me while I finished up the worst panic attack I’ve ever had seems relevant at this point: ‘It is very late at night and the world has gone to sleep, and there is nothing you have to worry about.’ So when it gets to that hour of the morning you hoped you’d never see, and it feels like everyone who cares about you has forgotten you in their peaceful dreams, just remember, in the cosmic scale of things, nothing you do really affects anyone, the people who care will support you and, if necessary, forgive you, and the one’s who don’t care, still won’t care. It’s as simple as that.

In summary, grow the fuck down and act like a kid until you feel ready to face the adult world again. It is very late at night, the world has gone to sleep, and there is nothing you have to worry about. There is nothing you have to do. Sleep tight, tomorrow will be better, and it’ll all make sense when you’re a little older.

Architecture's influence on the city, esp. Christchurch

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Does architecture and design really make that much difference to our happiness, our identity or our ideals?

The beauty of architecture can be uplifting to even the most practical people. One walk through Paris and the height and consistency of the buildings will fill you with a sense of continuity and protection, while their beauty and craftsmanship awes. People travel the world to find ruins, monasteries, or skyscrapers that they admire. The practical purposes of architectural intelligence are far harder to convince people of. 

But architecture can make a huge difference in ways that we never realize, even in vital ways such as influencing crime rates. The Yale Law Journal suggests that the high crime rates of inner cities are related to the physical environment rather than the conventional explanations (poverty, unemployment, poor schools, and the like). Researchers from the paper establish four architectural concepts that can used to decrease crime using architecture; increasing an area’s natural surveillance (its visibility and susceptibility to monitoring by private citizens), introducing territoriality (by demarcating private and semiprivate spaces), reducing social isolation, and protecting potential targets. In this way Architecture can have a very real and tangible impact on our lives, helping us feel less vulnerable alone in the city. 

 

The rebuild efforts in Christchurch provide architects and designers making buildings and public places with an opportunity to design a smart city, which actively prevents crime, and all through creativity! The Press explains that these design professionals ‘don't normally prevent crime. But there’s a growing movement afoot to make architects do just that, and if this movement gets legs, Christchurch could become a global leader in crime-fighting architecture.’ I’m not sure what the movement getting legs entails, but to extend the metaphor, if Christchurch can take this international research in it’s stride, we could see ourselves racing to the forefront of Architectural crime prevention and jumping feet first into a swimming pool of dreams and happiness. 

Post Earthquake, I attended the TEDx Christchurch conference as part of YouthVision2050, and heard countless talks about the different approaches to redevelopment a city can take after a disaster. GapFiller, the I am project, and many architectural experts made their pitches, and showed how influential architecture is to the running of a city and to residents’ lifestyles. One talk that has stuck with me was Majora Carter’s ‘Greening the Ghetto,’ shown on video. (Watch online at http://www.ted.com/talks/majora_carter_s_tale_of_urban_renewal.html) In an Article for The Root Carter describes setting up projects to stabilize the riverbank and estuary areas of the Bronx River, urban forestry and green-roof installation. The area that Carter focused on had one of the lowest parks to people ratios in the entirety of New York. She instigated the development of the first riverside Park development that the South Bronx had seen in 60 years. Citing Bogotá, Columbia, Carter also describes how an increase in pedestrian areas and footpaths led to greater foot-traffic, provoking a drop in crime rates and even a decrease in littering, reinforcing the influence a city’s design can have on crime. 

The conference was full of ideas for a pedestrian only city, increased bike lanes, more parks and open areas, youth centres, concert halls, high-rise high-population density city dwellings, fresh fruit markets and green roof vege gardens, even a redistribution of the suburb structure. There were calls for greater environmental sensitivity, greater representation of Maori culture within the city, and more efficient transport options. It’s an exciting time to be an architect in Christchurch, and I only hope that the city we gain will be distinct and successful in half of the ways suggested. 

Architecture can influence life on a far smaller scale than that of a city’s design, and with bewildering subtlety. Ann Jarmusch, in an article for ‘Architecture Critic,’ points out that studies have shown that students achieved higher test scores in classrooms with increased natural light, and that, according to research done in London, unfashionable "hospital green" walls did help speed the healing process. I’m more inclined to believe that it’s the pudding cups or watching three seasons of Friends in as many days. My big brother would probably claim that it’s having the ability to urinate without getting out of bed #catheterscanbehandy. In San Diego, hospital patients, their families and medical staff reported positive effects from exposure to uplifting art and healing gardens. It is incredible that environmental psychology can actually aid physical recovery.

Even in your day-to-day life design is creating specific habits for you. You’ll never enjoy a leisurely meal in a fast food restaurant because the hard plastic chairs keep you moving, encouraging fast turnover, elevator floor numbers and seat numbers on aeroplanes are all placed at or above eye level to help us avoid eye contact with others and thus feel less crowded in these potential claustrophobic environments. Environmental psychology reveals that architects influence, in subtle ways, the paths by which we live and think.

In summary, never underestimate the power of architecture, or the difference that you can make to your city. Architecture because it could save you from being shanked, aid a speedy medical recovery, or simply cheer you up on a cold shitty day, when you can wrap yourself up safe and feel entirely at home. The difference that you can make to your city, because it may be the case that you have to jump through hoops to gain funding or publicity for your initiatives, but if Carter has taught us anything it’s that individuals, especially those who live and breath their local environment, can fix the things they see to be lacking in their neck of the woods. If you’re interested in Christchurch’s development, go to http://www.futurechristchurch.co.nz/, and if you’re interested in anything else at all, type it into the search bar at http://ted.com/. And finally, if you’re studying architecture, best of luck, do something amazing with it.