The Regent Theatre holds more than 1600 and I am nervous for the group touring the country with this one man show so it is heartening to see the large and expectant crowd filling three quarters of the stalls.

The audience is, shall we say, mature in years but there is a pretty even spread of men and women and there is an air of confident warmth which suggests many have seen the original MAMIL and are back for more.

Mark Hadlow does not disappoint. He is vibrant and in control from the start and maintains a high level of energy throughout the performance. When, as the central character Wayne, he later demonstrates the increasing indignities of getting old as he struggles to put on his underpants before whirling into a backwards somersault, the audience nearly bursts into spontaneous applause.

Greg Cooper has written for this audience. There is a strong sense of recognition and identification with the material, and its many references to people and events.

Mark Hadlow is superb at finding the voices and physical characteristics to make clear the many different characters he inhabits. His counsellor, aka Taggart, is instantly recognisable and his Aussie retirement home manager provides a choice target for a few digs about underarm tactics. Hadlow deftly switches roles with a flick of his knees or the pressing of palms, and he peoples the stage with convincing others.

He is ably supported by a rich sound design (by Bob Bickerton). From the opening scene with accident and helicopter noises to the final moments, cleverly tying up the Foster and Allen and old folks’ music notion with the underlying loneliness of Wayne, the sound is an underlay to the message of the play.

It is clear that all the elements have come together here with sound, lighting (Sean Hawkins), technical operation (Steve Thomas), script, actor, and director (Cooper) combining to make a greater whole.

Hadlow sits on stage and chats to the audience at the end of the show and asks writer/director Greg Cooper to join him. Their mutual affection is evident and the audience is delighted with the direct address and the obvious sincerity of the pair. We are invited to keep our balance by keeping moving and to make contact with the people around us. It is a message readily grasped by the target audience and it is delivered effectively and with technical virtuosity while relaxing us with laughter.

That sounds like good medicine.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer

It’s been a few years since Mark Hadlow’s solo show MAMIL (Middle Aged Man in Lycra) toured New Zealand. Now its sequel, GOMIL (Grumpy Old Man in Lycra), is on the road – playing at New Plymouth’s TSB Showplace’s Theatre Royal for one show only on 3 October.

The mainly older audience arrives – some with greying hair, hearing aids or crutches for use in hip-replacement rehabilitation. It is obvious that, despite their ageing, they are still young at heart. They are full of lively chatter and very high expectations. Many are remembering the cheeky humour of MAMIL and are keen to see a repeat of Hadlow’s entertaining acting in GOMIL. Both shows are based around cycling, so some are keen cyclists themselves.

In the one-and-a-half-hour show they certainly experience hilarity and great acting in large dollops, so they are not disappointed. However, at the show’s conclusion they are surprised to also find themselves unexpectedly in more of a sombre mood than they had ever imagined.

As they leave the theatre the comments are not about the hilarity, the laughter or the superb acting. People speak instead about how thought-provoking the show is with its serious messages. They mention how meaningful they find it, how they can relate to it all. Some comment on how concerning it is at their age and even depressing because of topics like suicide, anxiety and loneliness being mentioned. It isn’t all fun.

Hadlow himself reinforces this mood as he stays on stage post-show to discuss the problems of ageing. He gives a personal promo for Bay Audiology and the benefits of hearing aids. He suggests that society has become insular. He preaches the need for us all to put down our cellphones and say ‘Hello’ to one another. There are murmurs of approval from the crowd.

Fortunately though we have also witnessed hope. Inspired by GOMIL’s main character Wayne the audience leaves with the message of the need to keep moving. To borrow some cycling terms, it seems old age and life is like riding a bike: it may involve shifting gears a bit, but it can still be a fun, full-speed ride ahead.

Writer and director Gregory Cooper includes topics like the death of a spouse, the huge decision to sell the family home and enter a retirement village, guilt and regret over what you can miss out on when raising your family, and those same children now boldly making decisions about their parents’ future. Illness, hospitalisation, losing your driver’s licence, panic attacks, counselling, guilt and being alone are mentioned. They are all very big issues and extremely relevant in today’s world with its ageing population.

However, with Cooper’s clever script and delightful characters, he wraps these big issues in a buffer of comedy. Cyclists, friends, family members and medical folk all have distinctive quirks. Wonderful quips about retirement villages being rip-offs and the colour of the NZ cricket team in the 1980s draw lots of laughs. Scenarios like the family home, choked with clutter and memorabilia such as long-playing records by artists many of us had forgotten, but quickly recognise, become instantly shared, relatable moments.

Hadlow is the ideal actor to convey these serious messages with cheekiness and the lightness of humour and hope. His talent abounds. The audience love his vocal versatility, which even includes some opera-like singing. He spontaneously switches from one character to another. He changes accents seamlessly. He masters a particular action, like miming the easing into or out of a La-Z-Boy, with perfect skill. He captures the essence of characters, such as the Counsellor, by his posture or a well-timed pause in the narrative. His hilarious cycling styles, one involving knees raised and pointing outwards, are received with pure delight.

Lots of thought has been put into the simple stage set, costuming and effective lighting. However, it is the soundscape (designed by Bob Bickerton) that amazes me. The accident scene, when ambulance and helicopter effects are heard, is very good but it is the shopping expedition in a retirement village courtesy vehicle that stands out for me. It is truly memorable and a remarkable feat as the noise of a van’s sliding door is synchronised to perfection with Hadlow’s repetitive motions (operator: Steve Thomas).

As I leave the theatre, I stop one of the rare younger species of the audience. It is someone who looks younger than thirty. I ask if the show has put her off getting old. She quickly replies with oodles of enthusiastic optimism and a big smile that it is not the case at all. She actually seems keen on going along for the ride.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer

Just over a decade ago, the redoubtable Mark Hadlow toured multiple cities and regional arts festivals in Greg Cooper’s MAMIL (Middle Aged Man in Lycra). Seen by 70,000 people, MAMIL comedically skewered toxic masculinity in the context of the GFC (Global Financial Crisis) and canvassed a range of male physical and mental health issues. Its central character, of the nine expertly played by Hadlow, was property developer Bryan, whose borderline sociopathic lust for wealth and misplaced trust in his despicable business partner Max led to his fall from (dis)grace.

Given to road rage at cyclists from the privileged comfort of his BMW X5, Bryan knocked a cyclist off his perch, en route to a golf course meeting. That was the catalyst for Bryan joining The Peloton, a men’s cycling group presided over by his victim, Wayne, a bankrupted concreting contractor. “In focusing on Bryan Cook’s story,” I wrote in September 2014, “the play critiques all the macho, testosterone-driven behaviour that still dominates the economic landscape. As such it is especially timely in the run-up to the elections.”

Once more the set for the sequel, GOMIL (Grumpy Old Man in Lycra), is a large pod that contains the Pinarello: a 10-speed road bike on a hydraulic lift upon which Hadlow will ‘ride’ through significant scenes of the play. A prologue finds Bryan and Wayne leading the peloton – which includes dairy-owner Krish, perpetually angry Irishman Seamus, and someone called Benge – conquering the Waitakeres. “You all right?” Bryan asks Wayne. Getting no response, he witters on about his financial and health problems until his probes finally produce a response.

It turns out to be the first anniversary of the death of Wayne’s wife Maggie. They were married for 49 years. Wayne’s sudden emotional animation escalates into a panic attack and his collapse causes a peloton pile-up. In the darkness that follows, spectacular sound-effects map emergency journeys to hospital by ambulance and helicopter.

The Sound Design by Bob Bickerton (also Stage Manager) and Lighting Design by Sean Hawkins are operated by Steve Thomas (also Production Manager). I assume the Set Design & Build credit is (as for MAMIL) by Brian King and Graham Jacobsen (from an original design by Ashley Holwell).

And now it’s Wayne’s story that plays out, facilitated by a series of counselling sessions with Rory, a mild-mannered Scotsman. Where to from here? is the question. Fortunately, Wayne is quite loquacious now in his ‘grumpy old man’ way. His son, Keith, returns from the UK with an accent that makes him sound “like Michael Cain on crack cocaine.” His career as a Machine Learning Engineer is a mystery to Wayne.

Also mysterious is exactly what happened after the pile-up. Wayne’s interactions with the garrulous Italian, Pinarello – Bryan’s bike, now gifted to Wayne – include a red-drenched rendition of ‘Nessun Dorma’ from Turandot (“No one must sleep … my mystery is shut within me …” – significant lyrics for those in the know).

The pressing question is whether Wayne can live alone in the 5-bedroom home lovingly furnished by Maggie, in Beach Haven. Should he trade it in for a small villa in the Fair Haven retirement village with its bowling green and $4 shiraz? Amid his other exquisitely delineated characterisations, Hadlow’s Glen, the Australian manager of Fair Haven, is a standout.

The ‘Glen-o’ v ‘Wayne-o’ lawn bowls sequence is priceless. His tussles with Keith about retirement villages provokes this gem: “If you want to make money, own one. If you want to lose money, live in one.” This is just one example of the countless comedic lines crafted by Cooper and delivered with panache by Hadlow.

His friendly interactions with the audience include referencing The Thursday Murder Club series of books. Hadlow’s command of the stage and auditorium is such that he earns the right to a number of moments of stillness and silence that intensify our connection to the person beneath Wayne’s deflective behaviours.

The rhythm and pace of performance is exemplary too (Cooper also directs), not least in the scene where Wayne insists on driving Keith’s Tesla. His alienation from technological progress is offset by nostalgia brought on by sorting through the ‘junk’ Wayne and Maggie have accumulated over the decades, including LPs of Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass, Nana Mouskouri and a treasured collection of Foster and Allen albums.

The neglected Pinarello brings an unresolved father-son issue to the fore and leads to Keith having a counselling session with Rory. Meanwhile, Wayne gets life lessons from Doru, a Romanian gym instructor. More than once, the idea that “Life is like riding a bike” is unpacked. As for the quest for ‘happiness’ – Doru counsels contentment. He’s not impressed with the way old people waste their lives …

There are all sorts of gems I haven’t mentioned, like the glimpse we get of Hadlow’s Muldoon impersonation. If you think I’ve given too much away, trust me, there is lots more to be treasured, not only in the writing but also in Hadlow’s compelling performance and the production values that support it.

It all builds to a finale that ties up a number of threads and reveals what happened after the pile-up. An epilogue finds Bryan and Wayne back on their bikes in an ‘out of this world’ reunion. A rousing rendition of ‘Maggie’ – a golden oldie from Foster and Allen – brings the show to a close, and the audience to thunderous applause.

As a very funny yet moving socio-political reflection of male experience, GOMIL can ride proudly in the pantheon of plays to be treasured. Need I add that the many women in the audience – mostly couples – thoroughly enjoyed it? Theatre is good at offering insights into the parts of humanity we don’t experience firsthand.  

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer

GOMIL – it’s not an acronym everyone’s familiar with but I reckon it’s going to be! Mark Hadlow’s sequel to his much earlier one man play MAMIL – is enthusiastically welcomed by last night’s audience at the Opera House. MAMIL, for those unversed, stands for Middle Aged Man In Lycra, and GOMIL for Grumpy Old Man In Lycra, thus marking the time lapse.

I’d earlier wondered at the set – simply a very large high solid structure set centre stage. “It’s road furniture” I was informed by nearby more knowledgeable audience members and it refers to physical objects or structures placed along roads to enhance safety and direct traffic. Lights now come up and there’s Wayne (Mark Hadlow) cycling atop.

He’s rejoicing in a successful ride to the top of the Waitakeres with his cycling mates – we get loads of laughter with the lycra! But jubilation is set to be “punched in the nuts by a yeti,” as described by Wayne when an accident happens – serious enough to land him in hospital.

Cycling days are over, it seems, and its pleasures now replaced by counselling, constant anxious questioning by all and sundry in the form of “Are you alright?” and worst of all, considering the potential advantages of moving into a retirement home. Horror of horrors! But reality has to be taken into account: he’s on his own now, his wife Maggie having died, and maintaining his property is no joke as his only son, Keith, is living overseas.

Taking refuge in grumpiness is an understandable and well-travelled route, no doubt shared by a large section of tonight’s audience. Receiving counselling may also be a point of familiarity as would be Wayne’s reactions, hesitations and scepticism.

The road furniture constantly demonstrates its versatility: as cycle path,  bowling lawn, inside a Tesla, and a garage basement – storage space for Wayne’s memorabilia. Accompanying this physical versatility is Hadlow’s extraordinary vocal versatility: we get different accents from his friends, his son, and his counsellor.

“Life is like riding a bike,” advises the latter. Is this what finally motivates our man to move into the dreaded retirement home, despite misgivings? From here on, things take an increasingly philosophical turn and give rise to some of the funniest lines in the show. Wayne finds his own unique way back to happiness in words and actions that form the play’s denouement.

Written and directed by Gregory Cooper, and brilliantly performed by Mark Hadlow, GOMIL offers a poignant and memorable lesson to us all.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer

Theatre from a strikingly fresh perspective is offered by this production. Not only is the audience seated on the stage, facing out for an unfamiliar view of the auditorium, but the performance itself whirls along cleverly using a stack of unadorned rostra from which the all-important bicycle, as well as surprising and sometimes challenging technical effects, can emerge.

All of this of course provides a focus for a thoroughly engaging vintage Mark Hadlow in a solo performance. The play is cued by a friendship from the cycling world of the earlier Cooper play Mamil, but determinedly extends into the unappetising territory of old age. To match its poignancy with constant humour, shot through with frank reality, adds up to a complex challenge.

It is Wayne, one of the earlier peloton, whose reaction to a fatal accident sets up the conversations and memories that shape the play. A range of encounters for an angrily depressive Wayne, now without his cycling buddy as well as his life partner Maggie, gives rein to Hadlow’s gloriously expressive and comedic skills.

Vivid cameos come thick and fast. An endlessly patient Scottish psychotherapist, mischievously nicknamed ‘Taggart’ by Wayne, is nicely contrasted with an Aussie salesman for retirement village Fairhaven Glen. This ‘end of life production line’ is seen as a solution by son Keith who seems to live out the classic Phillip Larkin quote about parents and the way they set up their offspring. Suddenly, the hilarious takes on a new poignancy as that trail is developed with a side helping of adventures involving a new bicycle and a Polish/Romanian coach. One very busy actor furnishes all these characters and ideas.

The resolution is happily positive, albeit reached by way of a wandering script, sometimes leaving us uncertain as to where we’re at on the road. There is no doubt at all, though, about the riveting physical and vocal skills brought to the experience by veteran Hadlow. His dogged, knees akimbo riding neatly exemplifies the life advice to ‘keep moving’ and ‘enjoy the view’.

The opening night audience, many of whom would have seen him as a middle-aged man in lycra ten years ago at The Court Theatre, found plenty to applaud in the grumpy old one on offer. A standing ovation said it all.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer

A fast-paced and at times wordy script addresses the issues of aging with a hefty dose of painfully embarrassing stereotypical humour. Some how Mark Hadlow, in his inimical style, brings out the pathos of a man suffering guilt and regret, and begging for forgiveness.

Underscoring the stock tropes of race, culture, relationships, age, counselling and the horrors of retirement villages, is Wayne’s story. Wayne is the typical New Zealand boomer dad; a grizzled, morose curmudgeon. A character straight out of a Roger Hall comedy: comic and pathetic at the same time.

Hadlow makes us believe in Wayne. In his love for his wife of 49 years and her sudden death. In his often uncommunicative relationship with his biking buddies. We are desperate for him to make up with his only son Keith. We long for him to open up to his Scottish counsellor. We thirst for him to tell us what happened after he had a panic attack on a bike ride with his friend Brian. This is the stuff of theatre.

It is delivered to us through a series of cheap tricks. Making fun of the Scots counsellor, snide comments about ‘kids’, the archetypical rest home manager, the philosophical gym attendant, driving a Tesla and taking the mickey out of lawn bowls.

Luckily for us the pathos wins out. The moving finale of a man who finally finds contentment in Fairhaven Glen retirement village and who gains forgiveness from his friend Brian, allows us to forgive some of the more jarring humour. Humour that belongs in the past.

This is a slick production of sound, lighting and stage set. Haddon is in his element in 80 minutes of polished delivery. He gets to grip with a multitude of characters, switching deftly from one to the other. He is quick-silver in his timing and responds skilfully to changes of place and time.

His audience are quick to show their appreciation. They laugh at the sharp one-liners but they know enough about the inevitable approach of old age not to get too complacent. After all, it is coming to us all sometime soon.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer