Homebodies is an original physical theatre piece created by MFA students Henry Brosnahan, Bronya Davies and Stella Vaivai from Victoria University. The raw material was devised collaboratively, drawing on personal experiences from cast and crew, which then evolved into a fully integrated collaboration between performers, designers, movement and narrative directors. Central to their research were three key inquiries: physical movement as expressive language, devised and design-led theatre, and the decolonisation of theatre spaces.

Upon entering BATS Stage, we are met with a brightly lit stage framed by two taut cables stretching from wall to wall. Draped over the left cable hangs a large mass of white fabric, like washing abandoned on a line, and two white fabric windows sit suspended centre stage. A third window sits aloft, utilising the venue’s ‘Juliet balcony’ portal. Set and Props Designer Grace O’Brien, alongside Design Director Henry Brosnahan, conjures the suggestion of a two-storey house. Before anything happens, we are already imagining those who inhabit it.

The music by Sound Designer Isaac Rajan drives the piece into action as the performers enter the house to a steady rhythm and position themselves with deliberate stillness behind each window. They walk, they breathe and they appear laid-back with sounds of birds chirping in over the beat. Their eyelines hover somewhere above the audience, cold and unreachable, reinforcing the isolation of five individuals with no visible human connection. Having read the programme note describing “the quiet loneliness in an increasingly disconnected world”, I can recognise this distance as intentional rather than a lack of performance presence; an important distinction.

The illusion of the house dissolves as the performers push the windows aside.  The tempo lifts, and physical purpose becomes clear. Bronya Davies, Movement and Choreographic Director, introduces structured pathways across the stage, creating the impression of five distinct journeys happening simultaneously. Each performer rushes somewhere with urgency, stressed, frenetic and inwardly focused. Recognisable movement motifs begin to emerge, alongside pockets of rhythmic unison, forming a vocabulary that threads the episodes together. Transitions throughout are swift and purposefully visible. 

Brosnahan, Davies and O’Brien ensure the audience witnesses the mechanics of change rather than being distracted from them. In Homebodies, set and props are not background; they are engines.  Alice Simpson’s lighting design complements without dominating; it’s subtle shifts tune into each scene’s emotional tempo rather than attempting to speak over it.

The work unfolds in five character episodes, each employing a distinct performance language. 

Kinai’s episode, performed by Heinrich Muller, draws on Pacific mask traditions, delivering physical storytelling pared back to gesture and presence. The lighting’s stark simplicity and shadow play are on-point, and once the house lights reappear, cleverly, he looks more alone than ever. When Muller removes his mask and sings an unexpectedly raw acoustic song, the emotional impact lands with clarity.

Casey’s episode, performed by Nui Mareikura, uses text with sharp comedic precision. A narrator, eerily reminiscent of Better Living’s Leah Panapa, coaches us through Casey’s meticulously crafted wellness routine. Yet beneath the disciplined surface lies a bleak loneliness. The silhouette work behind fabric feels relevant in that it’s also maybe a bit claustrophobic, and the confrontation she faces at the end breaks the illusion of perfection in one split second. 

Felicity’s episode, performed by Grace Seini-Cherrington, is a standout. With a buoyant performance and impeccable timing, she embodies a relentless optimist repeatedly let down by a friend. Props, lighting and sound converge dynamically; performers manipulate lights, become part of the set’s rhythm, turning everyday objects into percussion that propels the scene’s momentum.

Tauarewa’s episode, performed by Tiaki Sharp, plunges us into a claustrophobic bedroom of stagnation and isolation. The monologue is brave, unfiltered, and deeply vulnerable. Nothing is abstract here; the imagery, emotion and lighting make the scene brutally legible.

Finally, Polly’s episode, performed by Zoe Harris, comes to life with her non-verbal storytelling. Her performance is affective and engaging, revealing a young person grappling for control amid an overwhelming world. While the thematic punch is lighter than earlier episodes, the emotive authenticity holds us firmly with her. The integration of design and movement is harmonious, and creates an environment that feels retro and nostalgic.

Across the whole piece, the repetition of choreographic motifs gains resonance. What begins as abstract movement returns layered with emotional history. We now understand not only where these characters are going, but what they are running from.

Homebodies is a relevant, honest, experimental physical theatre work that demonstrates how collaboration, when genuinely enacted, can empower emerging artists to share meaningful, often unheard stories. At a time when youth mental health is in crisis, it is invigorating to see theatre students refusing silence, using their training to confront the emotional reality of this lonely, mad world we are living in. This is design-led, movement-driven theatre with something crucial to say, and I would encourage these makers to keep on practising their craft and also congratulate them on what they’ve achieved within the parameters of study. 

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