We’ve leapt 83 days ahead (82 when you read this) to Christmas Day. Matt Powell has prepared his abode for a gathering. Festive decorations include a small fir tree with wrapped gifts underneath it.

Matt chats to us while he’s waiting. He loves Christmas – do we? A “middle-level Grinch” doesn’t because he has to talk to judgmental family members. A woman does love it because her daughter, Holly, was born on Christmas Day – and what’s more, the mother’s name is Noelle! Thus audience bonding is achieved.

Distant bells approach and Matt’s guests – Eleanor Stankiewicz, Rebecca Mary Gwendolon, Shannon O’Neill, Liz Talbot, Wiremu Tuhiwai and Jamie Burgess – arrive singing ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas’. All are imbued with festive spirit. Over real glasses of (non-alcoholic) bubbles, they chat animatedly, often over each other, just as we all do on such occasions when catching up with friends we haven’t seen for a while.

Eleanor’s sadness at missing last year’s party is met with an exchange about the friends’ unsuccessful attempt to photoshop her into the picture. Ideally this would have prompted a call-back at the end, to get someone in the audience – the Grinch maybe? – to take a photo on a guest’s phone. But the only audience participation comes from asking if anyone knows how to draw the Cool S (for Santa?) that all the kids used to doodle on their exercise books and school backpacks. It’s Christine Covode (from NYC) who obliges from the back row, proving how universal the fad was (is?).

The ingeniously conceived prompts for improv come from the wrapped gifts. Each guest has bought and wrapped a carefully chosen gift for another. As the recipient unwraps their gift they ask the giver to talk about why they chose it, which establishes something about their relationship. The gift is revealed, appreciation is expressed and another inciting comment, such as, “Remember that time we …?” leads to improvised scenarios. Sometimes others join in, to play incidental roles as required, but this night some interventions disrupt and subvert what’s beginning to build. Even though it resonates as typical of some parties, it irritates me and I’m pleased to feel reassured it is not a predetermined rule of the game. Most of the time, constructive creation prevails.

Which is not to say it’s all ‘lovey dovey’. When Shannon recalls Wiremu’s first trip to NYC by giving him a folded cloth gift on which text is printed, he only mutters the first few words (I want to hear it all!) before launching into a rant about her failure to meet him, as agreed, at the Subway station.  

Remembering when they strolled down Courtenay Place discussing what the best thing about Wellington is, Rebecca’s gift to Eleanor is a box of iced doughnuts. One bite sends Eleanor into a trippy reverie where “touching a star” takes her to outer space. Rebecca is delighted to find someone else on the spaceship – she had thought she was alone these last 100 years. Their delight that touching hands proves they are real, not fantasies, is derailed (in my opinion) by two further arrivals … I make no further notes about this one; it’s lost me.

Matt’s gift of a corkscrew to Jamie relates to a night they shared when something happened that Jamie can’t recall: “Every time I drink wine, I forget.” He asks Matt to remind him. Flashback to a different party at Matt’s place. Flatmates are washing dishes and vacuuming but Jamie doesn’t get the hint to leave. Two hours later, he’s still there. 90 minutes later Shannon is yelling about smuggling vegan donuts from Wellington into New York. How? Up her asshole, of course! The audience loves it. Fair enough, I guess, such things happen at parties when others want privacy and intimacy. Back in the ‘present’, Matt confesses: “When I wanted a certain thing to happen, and it didn’t, I’d drink some more …” Back at the party, a flaked out flatmate (Eleanor) wakes, tells them what they should do and staggers off to bed. When audience members demand to know how it ended, Jamie refers them to the second syllable of Matt’s gift to him. (Was that then, or is it yet to happen this night? Time warps quite a lot here.)

Now it’s Rebecca who receives a gift from Liz, inspired by Rebecca’s colours and her ancestry. It’s a stylised portrait that reminds Rebecca of her Grandfather, an eccentric farmer – manifested by Wiremu, harvesting turnips. It emerges that there’s a really boring farm next door, run by Liz and Eleanor with their brat of a child, Shannon. They really hate the farmers next door, so Rebecca’s suggestion they should knock down the wall that divides them and ‘fun farm’ together gets short shrift. But a peace proposal is initiated by Liz, on the condition Rebecca and her Granddad take the child. They do, the child calls them “Mum and Dad,” and years later, is told she will inherit the farm.

Something about a dead relative has inspired Jamie’s gift to Shannon. It’s in a box, we don’t get to see it but apparently it’s useful – does she remember that song: Just like a USB / Just like you and me …” He also recalls that time Shannon played Jamie in a show and was so heartbreaking – which sets Shannon off on a rap: “I’m a motherfucking corkscrew …” Noise Police visit … (Although we get this is a warm relationship, maybe with unresolved elements, I feel more than one offer has not been accepted, let alone built on, in this scenario – but I may be wrong.)

Knowing Liz likes to tie-dye, Eleanor’s gift to her is a dye kit. It reminds her of the time they had coffee together. They’ve hit an awkward difference of opinion over board games. Liz is into Battleship but Eleanor prefers Mastermind which she tries to explain, more than once. ‘Board Game’ becomes a metaphor for boarding a train: a bittersweet moment as Eleanor climbs aboard and farewells Liz – who seems a bit bewildered, perhaps because this has nothing to do with the dye kit.

Back at Matt’s party, there is animated chat about board games. Someone claims, “Apparently we’ve been playing Monopoly all wrong.” I love Rebecca’s response: “If it didn’t make you want to die, it wouldn’t be as good of a metaphor for capitalism!” And now I wonder if there was a die/dye pun in there to retrieve the premise of this scenario.

The first time Wiremu visited Matt in Christchurch, he noticed his toy doll collection, so now his gift is another to add to the series. Does Matt remember the first time they actually hugged? Matt’s saying he wasn’t much of a hugger back then provokes a series of playground bullying scenarios – followed by a Teacher (Liz) bringing a Bully (Eleanor) back to apologise and shake hands. The time taken to achieve this breakthrough is exquisitely played. It’s such a strain for the bully to say what she admires about Matt – and when she blurts, “I admire that you have a friend,” and runs off, hearts melt throughout the audience. And wait, there’s more: “Is that true?” Matt asks Wiremu. “Am I your friend?” The aforementioned first hug is the answer. We love it!

It’s time for the guests to thank their host and for him to thank them for coming. They just need a song to finish up with – and they launch into an ‘We wish You a Fucking Christmas’ rap.

Christmas in October is a great concept and the best bits have been brilliant.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer