404: Fafa Not Found introduces us into an otherworldly, digital plane controlled by algorithms, computerised coding, neatly fitting numbers, exact and specific languages. The director describes it as a system error when something cannot be “located”. An interesting proposition to start with, and something that piques my interest before I even walk into the theatre space.

We are welcomed into a very intimate studio – seats lining the sides of the room, forming a ballroom catwalk-esque runway. At one end, we have Mataiti and Waqalevu mirroring one another, communicating in an unspoken secret language – imitating each other in conversational ballroom waves and O’s, coupled with moments of twitching and isolated movements. They are elevated above the audience on a black box reaching into the heavens – our tupuna. At the other end is a large white backdrop that features well-established visuals throughout the show, bringing us into the world they’ve built and contextualising the conversation Mataiti and Waqavelu engage in.

Given the intimacy of the space and the work’s reliance on that worldbuilding, I do feel there should have been a cutoff time for audience members to enter the theatre. During the first 15 minutes of the show, guests were still arriving, briefly taking us out of the world the performers and collaborators had worked so hard to put together. Mataiti does well to acknowledge this aspect in the performance by briefly giving them a glance while still in character. But what is this work without interruption? Constantly fighting to be seen, acknowledged, respected and recognised in the real world – the concept comes into play again here in the theatre, unintentionally but also forgivingly as friends and supporters make their way towards their seats. A polite tulou. An empathetic ‘sorry I’m late’.

The story continues … two bodies become one, and Mataiti and Waqalevu merge together to create a beautiful, softly fluid, integrated, almost sensual creature.  A karakia blesses the atamira. Music and spoken word is layered with intention:

Error is survival.

Feminine divine.

Survival story.

Colonised body.

Diaspora echo.

Village pride.

Distinctive and intimate personal stories, the sound of waves. They meet Silulu, who bursts out from behind the white curtain and immediately commands the space with his presence. Silulu makes his way from the ground, shapeshifting – the here, the now, the present, the physical and emerges into the heavens to converge with Mataiti and Waqalevu – the spiritual, our past, our future, our tupuna, the unseen.

Three brown queer bodies move in fluid, parallel ways, juxtaposed in the rigid, shapeless workwear we normally see in construction or on janitors, reimagining the typical brown male stereotypes our society places on our people and queer-ifying it. The proximity of these layers coming together – the concept, the music, the costuming and placed onto Pacific and Indigenous Queer bodies offers much room for the audience to interpret this world.

I reflect on the rigidity and exactness of the digital world. The 404 system error. When particular data cannot be processed or read. These dancers built a world that critically reflects upon the socio-political landscapes of Aotearoa and beyond – queer Brown Indigenous bodies not being recognised. Colonial systems that cannot process them, refuse to recognise them as valid “data” and seek to define and exactify queer identity. This is the reality for Mataiti, Waqalevu and Silulu.

There is great chemistry between the three performers throughout the show. An unsaid bond defined by shared experiences, hardship, and resistance – undeniably expressed in their ease of ebbing and flowing between vogue elements and contemporary dance technique. Each command space, in their own unique way – reflecting that of their Houses, which are rich in their own distinct whakapapa and ways of being/doing/moving: Wiseman Mataiti from the House of IMAN, Komai Waqavelu from the House of Coven-Aucoin, and Juelz Silulu from the House of Givenchy. Distinct Ballroom Houses in Aotearoa – their children carving space and making waves not only in the Ballroom scene but bringing that richness and experience into the contemporary dance world that creates something fresh, niche and new into this side of the performance world. There is much to be explored, developed on and supported for the future of these three performers.

Some bookmark moments featured the repeated motif of the high-heeled boot, clothed around their hands. Striking up into the air as a sign of collective resistance and resilience against the colonial constructs – standing in solidarity with one another. Due to the intimate nature of the show, moments of audience interaction meant they had no choice but to participate in the performance. Their reactions of either support or discomfort proved a disruption and reclamation of space, breaking that third wall. Mataiti’s spoken word took us into a moment of reminiscing: raw, deeply vulnerable, brave and honest – like taking a look inside his personal journal. He unravels the complexities of navigating queer identity, complex relationship dynamics, and the expectations placed upon him as a brown male. He takes us on that journey of unpacking with him about reassuring himself in who he is and “refusing to render into a format that was built upon me”.

404: Fafa Not Found positions brown queer Indigenous bodies as ‘undiscovered, unavailable, or non-existent’ within colonial infrastructures — highlighting how systems built on white, cis-hetero, capitalist logic cannot compute their multiplicity, their complexity, the rich abundance of all that makes up who they are. The 404 becomes a site of sovereignty — a refusal to be archived, extracted, or optimised. This work carries layered critical reflections, tech metaphor, nods to colonial violence, and identity politics all at once through a beautiful mix of Ballroom, contemporary dance expressions, spoken word and character play. For the first development of this work, I see the vision. This is something I feel deserves support and development in the future and I look forward to seeing what becomes of this trio, the production team and the work.

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Going into the theatre, the first glance is at the two dancers Wiseman Mataiti and Ratu Waqalev, on the top stage facing the audience as the audio in the background plays, the energy in the theatre was a bit gloomy but also queer. Due to the performance aesthetics, where Mataiti and Waqalevu embody vogue and whacking combos where I see they emphasise the crotch and chest area where it foreshadowed the body, hand, wrist, the eyes and focus will be enthralled in Fafa-Akavaine-Vakasalewalewa realness. 

The projection on the screen helped compliment their visual and performance repertoire as it exuded liberation and playfulness but with intention. The levels of abstractness but also structured dance storytelling was balanced and interesting to watch and experience. On the screen I see: Error is Survival, which showed in certain points survival and what it looks and feels like for Pasifika male queer bodies. Is the error Pasifika queer bodies?, having to survive in a heteronormative and patriarchal system which makes ‘Fafa not Found’ an intentional choice by the majority? The thought ponders… Then the projection continues, I see another dancer come into the space Juelz Silulu powerfully with his energy and embodiment.

The lighting at this point, constructively, was not showing the beautiful dancers faces clearly and so I think there needs to be a adjusting of the lighting in this section when the 3 of them are all seen, and to do so is to brighten the amplification of the lighting on their faces to create the intimacy that is needed for us as audience to connect with the fabulous Pasifika queer artists. Despite this, they articulate their movement where we feel the energy from the thrust of their wrist, the choreographic choices were superb as it showed the relationality with each-other which was top tier but also individually where they have similar but different energy qualities. 

Mataiti, has a level of grace but also mana where he moves, Waqalevu has this powerful aesthetic and energy where it puts us in a spell, and of-course Silulu, where it is clean movement with precision that is of the highest quality choreographic-wise. 

The lighting though, improves where it starts to add to the quality of performance. When Mataiti, Waqalevu and Silulu show their collectiveness of movement, complimented by the digital presentation exuding the notions of the Ballroom scene and how it articulates through their souls, their energy, their ancestral birthright as Pasifika queer artists paying homage to their respective lineages within culture, gender, and their own communities but also highlighting where Ballroom stemmed from which was by Black and Latinx queer communities in America. 

The traverse stage helped us as the audience to connect with Mataiti, Waqalevu and Silulu as it fostered an intimate setting which worked in the dancers favour as it was captivating from the start to the end. A cultural adornment became graced onto Mataiti, which showed the different textures of choreography and a deeper and divine feminine energy started to proliferate into the space. 

I felt as though the digital projection was a mirror to Mataiti as he moved with it on, and the symbolism of the black heel by Mataiti, Waqalevu and Silulu created an effect of queer liberation and reclamation of their femininity within Aotearoa and Te-Moana-Nui-a-Kiwa. There was a point in time where there was no music, and as the 3 of them moved – it was poignant and powerful. The lighting starts to be rapid, as they move collectively with the rhythmic music, which got all of us as the audience to cheer and hype the 3 dancers, which shows the energy shifts of creating a space for us to show our support for the narrative that is being conveyed choreographically and with the projection. 

The narrative of bodies of our fa’afafine, akavaine and vakasalewalewa ancestors being a lived archive intersecting with this generation of the gender liminal queer people of colour being felt in our bodies as we see the confidence, boldness and fierceness as they strutted the traverse stage going from one side to the other, and with us as the audience being in awe. In awe of the costume changes, the moans that made us chuckle, the breathing for extra theatrics, the commentary “I’m a fafa” from Waqalevu, “I’m a faggot” from Silulu which was reclaimed as a sense of endearment not embarrassment was profound and clever in verbalising this into the space. The attire was a full bodysuit covering their face, with the green light piercing through to show another layer of creativity around their on-going identity formations.

The spoken word by Mataiti with themes of unrequited love, desire and belonging helped ground the space and allow the focus to be on the storytelling which flowed so naturally off of his tongue where it pierced through our hearts as it resonated with our Pacific Rainbow communities. 

Lastly, the in-sync nature of when Mataiti, Waqalevu and Silulu had a tableaux then they gradually and fiercely looked at all the audience in their eyes showed a level of community but also strength and seriousness. The seriousness of nature being playful but intentional, the seriousness of making the audience loud but knowing we were all under the influence of their energy and the seriousness of reclamation of identity but still finding joy in community. 

Everyone needs to see this show as it will inspire you to think, conceptualise and reflect deeply on the themes that ebb and flow in this production. A stellar job well done!

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