The venue for this show is not a theatre or a basement bar or any of the usual or even unusual niche performance spaces typical of the Fringe Festival. It’s the home of James Wenley. He’s at the door to greet me and several other guests, and we follow him up several flights of stairs to his apartment.  

Wenley is a theatre academic, practitioner and critic and makes theatre under his company Theatre of Love. And we’re here to see his solo theatre piece: A Show for when you feel Lonely. Ensconced in armchairs and a sofa, we are now welcomed by our host and introduced to his personal space. 

A bookshelf displaying titles such as How to Know a Person and The Lonely Century are early clues to what we may hear. We even catch a glimpse of his bathroom, which features a washing machine that when turned on plays the national anthem in Te Reo Maori.  

Wenley’s opening statement, “My reality shared with you is theatricality,” perfectly sums up what follows. “This is where I live – by myself” he tells us.

[Potential spoiler alert: if you’re going, you may prefer to engage with what follows ‘in the moment’ – ED]

One in ten New Zealanders live by themselves apparently – either by choice or by circumstance. Some may do it out of bitterness, some out of a genuine desire to live alone. We are asked: Do any of us live alone? Are we lonely?

I find myself wondering if I – who do live alone and love it – am disguising the real state of things by living a chockful existence?!

Wenley relates his various experiences of living with his parents, flatting, living with a partner, and now living alone in Wellington for the past six years. He talks about the usefulness of a shared reality such as the theatrical community he is part of. The more connected we are, the happier – and healthier – we are. There’s no government support for the lonely; Japan and the UK have Ministers of Loneliness – why don’t we? As audience, we listen intently, at home with Wenley’s admitted vulnerability and perhaps discovering our own corners of loneliness.

Wenley accompanies himself on an omnichord, a small lap held instrument he uses to enhance his talk. There are also visual images flashed onto his television screen, one of which is of the lonely whale, Whale 52, whose plaintive song can be heard an unbelievable way off.

Conclusion comes with three pointers from his bereaved mother on overcoming loneliness and creating connections: ask for help, ask more questions, and show gratitude. They sound like solid advice for all of us.

It’s difficult to know what the audience leaves with. A book for individual comments is provided and about half the necessarily small audience write in it.

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