Two plays by two sisters, performed simultaneously, sharing a cast, props, soundtrack and a stage separated by a door – it just has to be a STAB commission by Bats theatre.

These joint plays by Amanda and Whiti Hereaka, one devised from the other’s scripted piece, are a great concept and each have some delicious moments – but they just don’t deliver what they could and should.

Two actors stay in character for both plays – poor angsty and pathetically unsure of himself Will (Julian Wilson) who’s in the midst of an existential crisis (understandable given that he may or may not exist), and lonely Rae (Nancy Brunning) who may (or may not) have created him in her dreams.

Lonely rubber-duck-collecting, socially inadequate Will is being pursued by his two female flatmates but has eyes only for a woman who, yes you guessed it, may (or may not) exist.

It doesn’t matter which order you see the plays in, Whiti’s scripted I Ain’t Nothing But, or Amanda’s devised A Glimmer in the Dark, she said. You’ll be puzzled either way.

The cast puts their everything into both plays, with Brunning and Wilson both making us care for their Rae and Will, while Te Kohe Tuhaka’s double act as God and Lucifer shows his skills as both orator and comedic actor. Kate Fizroy, Katlyn Wong and Fiona True love are strong in support.

The scripted work suffers from being too light to inspire a fully-fledged devised work.

The devised work, while punctuated with some lovely moments, suffers from the previous point, and from being "padded out" to fit the (excellent) soundtrack and the action on the other side of the wall.

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Two separate but related plays, one scripted, the other devised, playing simultaneously for 35 minutes on adjoining stages is the first of the two offerings in this year’s STAB season of experimental theatre.

Whiti Hereaka’s I Ain’t Nothing But is a comedy about Will, a Mr. Bean-like young man, and his invasive and sexually provocative female flat mates, while Open Book Productions’ A Glimmer in the Dark, She Said is an enigmatic variation of the events that occur in the young man’s room expressed through dream, dance, and mime.

STAB productions are usually performed at BATS but the long rectangular space of Shed 11 is probably the only suitable space in Wellington which can be split into two adjoining small stages. The audience is divided into two groups and led from the box office upstairs at The Loaded Hog to one of the two theatres at Shed 11.

Like Alan Ayckbourn who wrote two plays Home and Garden which are played simultaneously in two adjoining theatres and what you see in one play is the off-stage action in the other, Whiti Hereaka and Open Book Productions have intriguingly complicated the situation.

They make the off-stage action a dream of a young woman who is in love with the unknowing young man in the flat even though Lucifer appears up to no good in both the dream and the comic reality/unreality of the flat where he keeps popping out of a closet.

It doesn’t matter whether you see the romanticism of the young woman’s dream or the shenanigans of the rapacious young women and the Devil slipping into the innocent Will’s bed first.

Bit by bit things make sense so that the feathers, for example, that float from the heavens so beautifully in one are seen less romantically in the other. A single rubber duck in one is an object of curiosity, veneration and rivalry, in the other it has multiplied many times. A delightful umbrella dance in Nothing But makes sense when you see some of the décor in Will’s room in Glimmer.

It’s a bit puzzling to start with but, as the programme says, go with the flow and allow Julian Wilson, (Will) , Te Kohe Tuhaka (Lucifer), Kate Fitzroy, Katlyn Wong, Nancy Brunning, and Fiona Truelove to take you into a playful duality of styles that toys with theatrical conventions and an audience’s expectations and you will be thoroughly entertained.

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Played literally back-to-back at either end of Shed 11 – simultaneously to separate audiences who swap at half time – these two plays share an upstage centre door, a sound design, plastic ducks, some characters and story elements, and a theme of lost and/or found love that flips between denial and rejection, fantasy and reality, good love and bad love.

Commissioned as a pair by BATS for their experimental STAB season, each part may be taken at face value at first, in either order. But once the other is seen, certain dimensions gain greater meaning and resonance. Ingenious.

While the device may owe something to the onstage/ backstage Picnic show from The Netherlands, which we saw at Chaffers Parks a couple of international festivals ago (2002), and Alan Ayckbourn’s diptych of plays House and Garden (1999), Glimmer and Nothing claim their own ground in subject-matter and genre. Indeed they differ from each other in form and content too.

While I have to discuss them in the order I happened to see them, and with some degree of hindsight, I’m very aware that each audience member will experience them differently.

A Glimmer in the Dark, she said – devised by the company and directed by Amanda Hereaka – is a surreal dream play. It involves black gum-booted women with plastic anoraks and brollies, a coffee addict called Rae (Nancy Brunning) – it’s her dream – with her plunger ritual shared (invaded?) by Clare (Fiona Truelove) … A cunningly staged shower scene is one of many visual delights.

A silver-tongued, white-suited God (Te Kohe Tukaha) offers insights into the truth, the universe, physics, metaphysics … The head of a sleeping man is hugely projected on the back wall … When the now awake man – Will (Julian Wilson) – appears in person, he is searching … for what? So is Rae … They search past each other … Will their destinies cross … (where there’s a Will there’s a way)?

I Ain’t Nothing But – written by Whiti Hereaka and directed by Grace Hoete – is a well-crafted comedy of existential angst that features Will as a plastic duck-loving flatmate trying to sleep while a party carries on in his flat. But when the silver-tongued, white-suited one – now called Lucifer – emerges from the closet to reveal that Will has moved on – to what: death? – and this is what they’re celebrating, the prosaic becomes intriguingly spooky.

Certainly his flatmate Lilith (Kate Fitzroy) has dibs on his room. And when time rewinds to play back the lead up, the other flatmate, Evie (an extraordinarily supple Katlyn Wong), has very explicit intentions on him. So how comes it that he – later – is reputed to have slept with both women the same night without the other knowing?

I’m not about to reveal that here, except to say it’s very theatrical, lots of fun and over all much of the entertainment arises from trying to work out if we’re in the realm of memory or premonition. And once you have seen both plays and decoded the metaphysics, the realisation of what has ‘really’ happened to Will and Rae should bring a heart-warming sense of resolution.

What a joy to see Nancy Brunning live on stage again, so centred and subtle yet deeply expressive in exploring Rae’s emotional terrain. Likewise Julian Wilson (what a great year he’s had!) compels our belief in Will’s battles and journeys no matter what, with impeccable timing.

Katlyn Wong’s evocation of limber little Evie’s yogic, tantric, nymphomania is a high point in quality physical comedy. Kate Fitzroy personifies Lilith’s more hidden desires with compelling intensity. Quite what white tulle-clad Clare’s true role is within the mix – mostly in Rae’s dream – remains a mystery to me but Fiona Truelove acquits herself well as the opportunity arises.

And exerting his charismatic powers in the theologically fascinating blend of God and Lucifer, Te Kohe Tukaha turns in a winning performance on both sides.

The excellent lighting design(s) by Joshua Judkins combine with the sound design – by Simon Bowden, Blair Latham and Nils Olsen (CL BOB) – to elevate proceedings to non-naturalistic planes.

The BATS / STAB season has produced some impressive work over the years and I Ain’t Nothing But and A Glimmer in the Dark, she said are right up there with the best.

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