Pōneke’s NZ Fringe Arts Festival gives Wellington another fresh ensemble of young talented actors – this time at the Preservatorium Café, 39 Webb Street, Mount Cook.

Welcome to Doormat. This imaginary Wellington restaurant operates over four chaotic Saturday night shifts. Co-created and performed by a stellar ensemble of seven young actresses and a shadow puppet guru, this darkly comedic production serves as a scathing critique of capitalism, a love letter to the hospitality grind, and a celebration of the absurdity and resilience of female friendship.

The venue is packed with mostly young teens and twenty-something patrons seated at chairs and bench seats in an L-shaped configuration, giving us a wide view of the performance. There is almost excited keen anticipation of what is about to start as Ashley Harnett, playing Emma, comes on to the stage with cell phone in hand, calling her Mum … And the evening unfolds.

Produced by S.L.U.G (Society for Little Ugly Girls), the script evolved from improvisations, so the whole cast is credited as creators. Multi-talented Sarah Lawrence is the writer, director, actor in the role of Gabby, semi-acoustic guitar player and singer of songs that bridge the four scenes.

The characters are multifaceted, portraying a range of human nuances and distinctions. For example, Trish, the maître D’, played Cassidy Kemp-Woffenden, doesn’t quite get the hang of clearing tables. Her curt utterances and replies steal many of the shows one-liners.

Along with Emma, Gabby and Trish, the others caught in the relentless pursuit of profit at the expense of human dignity are Indy (Kimiora Honeycombe), Quinn (Paris Tuimaseve-Fox), Janie (Merril Abapo), Siobhan (Rain Te’i). Grace O’Brien is the designer and sound operator.

At times the show seems adlibbed and unrehearsed as the stellar cast cleverly navigate the sometimes chaotic episodes. As neatly summarised in the production details: “Someone is on smoko. Someone is on snapmaps” – are they checking or stalking? – “Someone has a bag of mushrooms from Thailand and you don’t want to know what’s happening in the walk-in freezer.”  

There is more to Doormat than we may assume at first glance. I see it as a wonderful allegory: a reflection of perhaps a once prosperous and well-patronised restaurant that has since faded; threadbare like its welcome mat; its once vibrant workers dulled by years of hard labour and customer etiquette, their smiles strained and their backs aching from long shifts. It reflects the indifference of the management towards its employees, their concerns brushed aside like dust from the doormat’s worn surface.

The 70-minute show ends with the cast singing Dolly Parton’s ‘9 to 5’ – for which read ‘5 to 12’? Perhaps it’s a bit ‘on the nose’ but the chorus is a poignant reminder of our devotion to capitalism and how we can be just Doormats.

If you want something different, fresh, get along to it, there’s only two more nights.

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