Before We Slip Beneath the Sea, written and directed by Cassandra Tse, is an incredible example of immersive theatre that puts the audience at the forefront and not only includes us in the theatrical experience but gives us a voice and sway within the story.

The very form of this play emulates waves with layered scenes and conversations often happening concurrently and stacking on top of each other to create a multi-faceted narrative. The audience is free to navigate this current and create our own experience, showing us not only the ephemeral nature of theatre, but also complementing the evanescent themes of the story, urging us all to dive into the experience wholeheartedly, before it slips away.

On arrival at the community hall, audience members are asked to write their preferred name on a nametag in black marker, the first initiation into the experience; actors are also wearing nametags, with their names adorned in purple. We are encouraged to eavesdrop and interact with the characters and are given the choice to slip in and out of conversations, or to follow a single character through their respective interactions. Each choice we make tailors the experience and allows us all to have our own unique view of the same story.

The emphasis on accessibility and environmental sustainability is evident from the moment we get our tickets. Digital tickets are sent with an environmentally friendly note to say they don’t need to be printed and QR codes are hung on the walls with links to save the need for paper programs, while drinks are offered in cans with recycling collection readily available.

We enter the performance space to find it is not the community hall in our local city as we may have expected, in this case the Kelvin Grove Community Centre, but the community hall of a small island named Eglantyne, off the coast of Wellington on their final night before evacuation due to concerns of rising sea-levels. We are welcomed by the inhabitants of the island and told of its history. At every turn we are drawn into the story, whether it is being asked by headstrong council candidate Maggie (Helen Jones) to sign a petition investigating the possibility of erecting sea-walls to save the island, or being tempted by the smell of freshly baked ANZAC cookies being proffered by her husband Clive (Ralph Johnson) as he talks fondly of ‘Bookmarks’, the local bookstore he runs with his wife and will now be forced to leave.

The dynamics of the community are made clear by the contrasting reactions to this final night before the forced change of evacuation. Maggie can be heard muttering about the attempt of ferryman Marty (Craig Geenty) to turn her call to action against the evacuation into a celebratory last hurrah with “karaoke and free beer,” aided by Carla’s (Hannah McKenzie Doornebosch) interjections and whoops from the sidelines.

I am brought into the action when Carla addresses me by name and offers me a 0% alcohol beer, assuring me that it is nice and cold as she passes on her way to pose for artist Eden (Megan Connolly) who is sketching the ‘Faces of Eglantyne’ in the hopes of creating a remembrance mural. Carla’s sister Bree (Charlie Potter) embraces the change, reminiscing that she has stared at the same ceiling since childhood and though she had originally planned to move into Wellington with her sister, she has actually purchased a ticket to move to Tamaki (Auckland). We watch her weighing up the decision to tell her sister in real time and when she decides on the moment, several of us in the audience flock to witness the outcome. The views of Marty’s son, Kip (Billie Deganutti) are in clear contrast to his father’s, taking every opportunity to rally against the change, though with a clear perspective of youth that sometimes lands him – and others – in hot water.

Each interaction, no matter how small, builds the characters of this play into the steadfast pillars that ground it, giving us audience members something to hold onto as we are swept along in the current that becomes increasingly tumultuous with each new introduced tension.

This play offers a masterful critique of the interwoven fabric that makes up a small community and how the dynamics are put under pressure when divisive factors such as climate change and council intervention are entered into the equation. As an audience member I not only feel like I am part of the community, I also feel compelled to help; whether it is aiding with the dishes alongside the characters or tearing up ballot slips. I feel comradery with the characters and I want to do my bit.

In equal parts heartfelt and political, Before We Slip Beneath the Sea is moving and engrossing. It is like being part of a ‘choose your own adventure’ story, except that you are living it alongside the characters and you can share your opinions and suggestions as you are swept along. The characters become familiar and by the end I find myself emoting, almost in tears as they navigate the hardships of both the unprecedented situation they find themselves in, as well the now fraying relationships with each other. At times I want to just give them a hug.

The cast is incredibly talented and adaptable. They maintain a secure sense of character at all times as they adapt to offers from the audience in an easy and cohesive way. The immersive aspect of the performance is not forced on the audience; no one is put on the spot or made to feel uncomfortable. Instead, monologues are presented as conversations with opportunities to respond offered, not required.

In conversation with the actors post-show, I learn that our actions as the audience were driving us towards one of three different endings. Our opinions and actions have weight in the play that impacts the story and the outcomes; no one performance is exactly the same. Each show is set in a different community hall, meaning it is blocked and set up in a new way for each performance. Our names that we have been wearing throughout the play are interwoven into the final monologue, not only making us feel part of the world, but also making us feel important. These techniques show the versatility of the play – almost everything is changeable, even the minds of the audience.

There is one more opportunity to experience this play in Carterton at the Wairarapa Events Centre on the 19^th of July. I highly recommend getting a group of friends together and becoming townsfolk of Eglantyne for an evening. If you’re anything like me, you’ll come away feeling moved, you might feel like you’ve made new friends, and you’ll certainly leave with lots to talk about.

https://www.redscare.co.nz/before-we-slip-programme

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer

On a balmy Wellington evening (before the impending southerly change) sundry citizens gather at the Aro Valley Community Centre to discover it has become the Church Hall on the peak of Eglantyne Island, just off the coast from Mākara Beach.

We are gathered because tomorrow is the deadline for the final evacuation, mandated by the local Council. Candidate for Wharangai Onslow-Western Ward, Maggie Whitman, has grabbed the opportunity to promote alternative climate change mitigation strategies by way of posters, flyers and a petition. Welcoming cans of drink adorn trestle tables – and I find myself in the kitchen helping her husband Clive, who runs the local second-hand bookshop, to whip up a few plates of cucumber sandwiches.

There’s a karaoke set-up with a dodgy microphone that’s sometimes used for Maggie and others to make the odd speech. What with everyone milling around rather than sitting down for a formal community meeting, it has to be said that each attendee will be having a different experience of the event. It all depends on where in the hall you happen to be standing or sitting, who you talk to and whose conversations you happen to overhear. So I can only report on what I pick up.

(Spoiler alert: If you’re planning to go tonight or next weekend – woops, now that I’ve revealed this is an immersive play: Before We Slip Beneath the Sea, written and directed by Cassandra Tse, Artistic Director of Red Scare Theatre Company – you may prefer not to read the rest of this until you have experienced it without prior knowledge or preconceptions.)

I gather the first occupant was a hermit called Colville who shared the island with gannets. The island is named after his sister, Eglantyne. A settlement grew with a church on the hill and a small village that includes the bookshop owned by Clive (Ralph Johnson) and Maggie (Helen Jones) – which, I learn later, makes no profit. Now there are 53 permanent residents and 94 holiday homes. They were given three years notice to evacuate and the Council is poised to pay lump-sum compensation to each property owner.

It becomes apparent that the Eggies, as they call themselves, have mixed feelings about the evacuation. Marty (Craig Geenty), the ferry master, wants to party up large and tries, not very successfully, to get the Karaoke going. His teenage son, Kip (Billie Deganutti), whose favourite subject is history, is inspired by the USA’s stories of early pioneer settlements, the sit-in protests of the 60s and 70s, and the more recent occupations. Kip wants to emulate them by leading a ‘Remain’ movement – which leads to a confrontation with Maggie as to who is the anti-evacuation spokesperson.

The feelings and intentions of three single women become apparent to those who converse with them, or overhear their conversations and/or the arguments that break out between them.

I glean that Bree (Charlie Potter) and her sister Carla (Hannah McKenzie Doornebosch) have signed a lease on a flat in Thorndon. When I realise they’re arguing, I catch up in time to realise Bree has told a furious Carla she’s moving to Auckland. When I ask Bree about it, she tells me she’s always felt subservient to Carla and this is her chance to break free, despite having no home or job to go to. Her mixed feelings of excitement and trepidation are palpable. I wonder if Bree and Eden (Megan Connolly; they/them) are in a relationship, or is it developing before our eyes as Eden decides to accompany Bree to Auckland?

In a moment that brings the whole room together, Kip succeeds in leading us in a battle cry: “You can boil it, you can fry it, but Eggies don’t crack!” Kip’s volatile relationship with his father – a perfectly-pitched swirling of adolescent hormones – is offset by a poignant revelation that his mother has died and is buried on this island.

It’s Eden who reveals Kip has posted about the occupation on Telegram and now a bunch of climate-deniers are planning to join the protest. Given the recent parliament grounds occupation (which attracted everyone with a grievance and, without clear leadership, turned ugly and violent), Eden is outraged at this turn of events. When they interrupt Kip’s speech about how much his mother loved this island to confront him, Kip counters with an accusation that Carla is trying to seduce his father – and shockingly, Eden’s response earns her a punch in the nose.

Marty’s insistence that Kip must apologise is countered with the accusation he never loved Kip’s mother. Soon after, I eavesdrop on Marty and Clive’s shared experience of being hit by their fathers. Given Marty’s determination to do better by his son, Kip’s resorting to violence is deeply upsetting.

Meanwhile Clive and Maggie’s relationship is heading for the proverbial rocks, given their conflicting desires for how to spend the next phase of their lives. Maggie’s mother was an activist, her father was an inveterate writer of letters to the paper, and a formative experience where a male teacher made her allow a boy to win a Spelling Bee have conspired to drive Maggie into local politics.

What began as a low-key gathering that seemed to lack focus and leadership has almost imperceptibly become a high-stakes drama – exemplified by banners and slogans going up on the walls to offset the party lights (Production Design – Lucas Neal with Assistant Director Abby Lyons participating in the hall’s transformation).

Inevitably a vote is taken: Remain; Leave now; Stay three more days. Does anyone scrutinise Maggie’s counting of the voting slips? As she does so, a sound montage of radio news clips indicates the occupation has lasted for three weeks… six weeks … So much for our vote to leave.  

This change in theatrical convention allows for an epilogue whereby characters reveal what happens over the years and decades to come – culminating in Kip taking his grandson in a rowboat to visit this very hall, now in ankle-deep water: the only part of Eglantyne Island still visible above the sea.

‘Immersive Theatre’ has come and gone in various form over the years (I called it ‘theatre-in-the-mix’ back in the late ’60s, as opposed to Theatre-in-the Round) but over its 100 minutes, Red Scare’s Before We Slip Beneath the Sea has proven to be an absorbing and salutary experience. It’s on again tonight and next Saturday and Sunday – and highly recommended.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer