Even been in a classroom?

If the answer us ‘yes’, then Artsense Productions latest theatrical epic will be right up your street.

We’re told in the promo material, and I quote (as seems appropriate given the nature of the content of the show), ‘Mika Austin takes you back to the classroom for a quick-fire education, word for word. Seven years of verbatim quotes from 7,000 pages of university notes are gleefully stitched together in this solo show following eight characters across multiple subjects. From linguistics to education to law and policy, this merciless examination of lecturers and back-row bandits is guaranteed to get you a degree in 60 minutes.’

And of course. Shakespeare.

Writer Amy Mansfield needs to be complimented on so many levels. Firstly, on saving all those notes.

Many (maybe most) can’t wait to bin them.

I was one.

 Mansfield says, ‘This is a record of funny things real people said, live, in a theatre – albeit a lecture theatre – which I happened to take down on 7000 pages of lined refill back in the day. Despite the retro genesis of the play, the big questions it covers are still on our minds today.’

That’s very true. The show is as relevant as tomorrow.

It’s an idea of pure theatrical genius and, like all great ideas, I’m sure the path to realisation ‘never did run smooth’ – I nicked that from Shakespeare since we’re in the world of shameless borrowing – but accomplished author Amy Mansfield trips elegantly around the potential potholes in her concept and has come up with a winning rehash of the 2019 original.

2019 gets me wondering whether the opportunity to develop I Didn’t Invite You Here to Lecture Me might have occurred during Covid lockdown when the desire to troll through 7,000 pages of university notes and write a play from them might have seemed like a logical thing to do, if, for no other reason, that there was suddenly ample time to do so.

Whatever the reason, I’m seriously glad she did, because the result is a great night out at the theatre.

Does it sound lightweight and somewhat trivial?

On the surface yes, but it’s also a treasure trove of warm-hearted reflections on all manner of learning experiences that each of us can relate to in our own unique way. My guests (a 50-year-old woman and a young man of 22) hooted all the way to Pizza Hut with their own quotes from Ms W from Year 12 English, Mr P in PE, and Dr V in Marketing. Me, as a veteran of 25 years as a university lecturer, I stayed quiet, wondering, if Mansfield’s shoe had been on another foot, what purlers I might have dropped that would have seen me gently mocked in a parallel show in some distant universe? I’m sure there would have been enough for a whole show and a sequel or six.

I did recall some classics from my own time as a student – from Mervyn Thompson, Rupert Glover, even Professor Annamarie Jagose – but the idea of crafting these into an entertainment as complete and as funny as Mansfield’s Lecture made me realise how deceptively fabulous her work really is.

In an attempt to engage, student-like, with the concept I decided we should all arrive late uttering loud and profuse apologies.

We didn’t.

Instead, we did that other studentish thing and turned up ridiculously early.

I was concerned at the sparse audience, twenty or so of us, rattling around in the barn that is the Rangatira Room at Q. Comedy functions best when there is an audience that fills the room, and I worried that performer Mika Austin might struggle with just we few sterling souls. I needn’t have exercised my own performer neurosis however, because, sure enough, bang on time, they rolled up in substantial numbers and filled the theatre to the brim.

I noted with interest that around 90% of attendees were women, of all ages, primed and ready to go.

And go they went.

Raucous cheering from the moment Austin entered the space until the very end, and beyond. They loved it, and so did I. When asked about why audiences loved her so much, superstar Minnie Pearl said, ‘if you love them, they’ll love you back’, and Mika Austin fully embodies this notion.

She loved us, and we loved her back.

The New Zealand Comedy Festival is doing insane business which is great. Great for everyone, and I’d like to give a big shout out to the Q staff who are worked off their feet and being totally professional throughout, especially when herding huge audiences who, to quote a friend, ‘can’t even walk in a straight line’.

The Q staff deserve our greatest respect and kindness.

We are welcomed by a slide show – POL332 Policy and Law, LAW220 Equity, ENG210 Age of Shakespeare: Tragedy, GER103 German Language and Society – a lectern, a keyboard, and that’s all.

Over a short 55 minutes, actor Mika Austin creates eight unique characters and it’s obvious from the laughter that we recognise each and every one of them. They connect with each of us, and the connections are delicately nuanced. While we laugh with Austin as she evolves her characters, the laughter is never cruel, the parody is affectionate, it’s smartly placed, and Austin’s confident charm is infectious.

Using simple devices – a change of spectacles, posture, vocal tone and texture, pace, and volume – Austin ensures we always know who’s speaking to us and why, and when the text fails momentarily to connect, we know it’s Mansfield making a point. The text is quite superb having been well and truly worked and workshopped over a number of years and all to good purpose. It’s been seen in seven living rooms, a bookshop in Tamaki Makaurau, a tour to Melbourne, a sold-out season at the Basement, performances at the Dunedin Arts Festival, The University of Auckland Business School, the prestigious Northern Club, a warehouse, and even a church.

It’s been around the block, and it’s back with a bang.

Austin is a fine actor, a great communicator. A background in legal comms might help. From the moment she hits the lectern she’s in control. Such confidence is rare but critical when playing comedy and there is not a nanosecond – despite changes of character – where Austin fails to put her audience first. She has us on our feet participating a couple of times, music is alluded to, there are opportunities for us, as her students, to behave like real students, though without the walk outs and the snoring.

I defy anyone to sleep during this show!

I often pontificate about the importance of working with good people and how that provides a shining additional edge to the work. This iteration of Lecture is directed by Michael Hurst. I’ll say no more. It doesn’t get better than Michael.

And now it’s time, time to branch out.

Rangatira is a big space, and it takes big performances to fill it. Austin is quoted as saying ‘while intimate spaces provide unique opportunities for interaction with the students… ahem, audience…, we can’t wait to embrace the ‘Subject101’ vibes that these larger spaces bring”.

Well, she’s done it now, and she’s absolutely aced it as well.

I’m happy to admit I didn’t know what to expect when I parked myself in my seat, but looking back I got exactly what I didn’t know I had expected. It’s an excellent show, subtle, unpredictably predictable, nuanced, smart, and very, very funny, created by two exceptional women, and it’s all done with you in mind so, given that, it would be ungracious of you not to grab what’s left of the Class of ’99 and bring them along with you. It’s on until 24 May at Q Theatre, Rangatira, before it crosses the strait – are there still ferries? – and plays, appropriately since the Arts Centre was once The University of Canterbury, in the Great Hall of the The Arts Centre in Ōtautahi, Christchurch on 29 May.  

There are no exams and no assignments.

You won’t be disappointed.

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Directed by Michael Hurst for the Comedy Festival spots, the idea of a show consisting solely of verbatim notes from seven years of lectures at Auckland University intrigues me. I am wondering how writer and producer Amy Mansfield is going to make them funny for a whole hour. I needn’t worry, however, as Mika Austin’s performance has the whole audience in laughter and engaged.

We are handed a programme printed to look like a page of notes as we enter Ta Auaha’s Tapere Nui theatre and it thankfully lists the characters in order of appearance, because it is needed. Austin is playing eight lecturers covering an array of subjects: Law, Shakespeare, Anglo-Irish Literature, Music, Linguistics, German, Policy, and Education. There is a different voice for every character, including hilarious Irish and German accents and the Shakespeare lecturer sounding like Dumbledore.

Austin is now talking about specific subjects as if we are in the different lecturers’ classes and since they are not in the specific order anymore it does get a bit confusing for me as I can’t remember which subject a couple of the characters are teaching. As the show progresses and different subjects are covered, I do manage to figure them all out again. (However, other audience members say they were able to follow along the whole time.)

It feels like we are in a real lecture when the music lecturer encourages the audience to stand and get involved, and the linguistics lecturer has handouts.

It is interesting to hear when the audience responds to different quips and you can quite clearly see who of us has taken any of these subjects before, especially Law.

The front rows are repeatedly being called on for examples, volunteers are asked for and honestly it feels like we are in actual lectures, albeit 30 seconds at a time.

At times I feel smart for knowing things, and at other points I genuinely have no idea why the audience is laughing, but that is the beauty of this show and how it can appeal to many different people.

Austin flawlessly navigates between the eight characters whilst utilising audience interaction and actually being educational. That and a lot of sexual innuendos make I Didn’t Invite You Here to Lecture Me a hilarious show that will have people wishing all lectures were like this for years to come.

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Little Andromeda has steadily added sparkle to the theatrical life of Christchurch. Part of its charm is the intimacy of a small space. Although lacking capacity for the razzle dazzle of larger venues, the theatre does compensate with easy involvement and a seemingly permanent festival atmosphere.

The current production, written by Amy Mansfield AND directed by Nick Dunbar, is a good example of the lively and off beat material we have come to expect here. Strung together from hundreds of verbatim notes, the play romps through brief clips of lectures from eight university subjects, in a recurring, sometimes dizzying, succession. It is playful, gently mocking and always engrossing as eight lecturer roles, all performed by Mika Austin, point up the funny side of their intense approach.

Taking verbatim snippets out of context can be a tricky business but here, melded into a new whole, highlighting the delicious absurdity of over-heated fervour, the effect is good theatre. Astutely observed mannerisms and preoccupations of the eight lecturers flip deftly from one to the next, building to an entertaining and insightful whole. The audience loves its student role, probably much more than the original recipients. 

‘Lecturing’ in the ponderous territory of law, Shakespeare’s purposeful ambiguity, Anglo-Irish literature, choral music, linguistics, German, strategic policy and education, a wonderfully nimble and polished Mika Austin makes light work of a testing challenge. Vocally and physically she allows never a moment of dead stage nor a flicker of uncertainty in the characterisations in layer on layer of presentations. At once thoughtful, funny and absorbing, the compilation and performance are a theatrical treat.

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It’s been a bad day at the office. the kind of day that demands a stiff drink and an early night. So, as I enter the auditorium tonight, my headspace is cluttered, my heart is at home with a glass of vino, and my brain is still at my computer, fingering through a task list that never seems to end. Physically, I am here, but mentally and emotionally, I’m in another dimension. This not a good way to start an evening of theatre.

As we take out seats, I look around the auditorium, and feel a wave of nostalgia – many years ago, I remember sitting in this same room as a student, taking notes and soaking in the wisdom of my elders and betters. Now, thirty years later, many of those old minds have passed, whether to retirement or to the grave. Over those years, I have traversed the landscape from student to lecturer; I have stood on both sides of the lectern in this room. As the day starts to slide away from me, I slip into the memories of countless classes, lecture theatres, and the people who shaped in that journey, from student to teacher, from young woman to the person I am today.

Once again, I have arrived at a show of which I know little about. The programme is my saviour, and I savour it. A few words pop out that give me some context to tonight’s repast:

“… this verbatim comedy set in a lecture theatre… [takes] you back to university for a quick-fire education, word for word.”

Verbatim theatre is a form of documentary theatre that uses the real words of real people as the script. In this case, the words come from 7,000 pages of lecture notes taken over seven years. I have my own stack of notes at home, sitting quiet in their foolscap boxes, resplendent with marginal doodlings and scribbled secret notes.

Mika Austin commands the stage as she enters the room, channelling the first of several characters. The magic here is the nostalgia each evokes, harking back to those lecture hall days. They are all there, these teachers from our past. Mika’s mahi flows from one character to the next, filling them out into full three dimensions, as she pivots and turns from one to the other. Her characterisation flips and bounces from one to the next with the athleticism of an acrobat. It’s hard work, with some characters only appearing for an instant before another takes their place. Mika is up to the task, each one clearly defined.

The choice of venue is a masterstroke: life and art overlap, building and enhancing the experience. The true-life location of a lecture theatre and an audience full of bona fide academics brings another layer. More hilarious that Mika herself and her crafted delivery are the reactions of the lecturers in the audience as they recognise themselves.

As I leave, I realise there is a spring in my step. Looks like the best medicine for a hard day at the office was a bunch of laughs and a bit of nostalgia. I laugh aloud at the irony that, all these years later, there is still more for me to learn from within the hallowed walls of academia.

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When Amy Mansfield was at university, she kept a file of the ridiculous or impenetrable things said in lectures: not the the kind you would include in your notes or expect to help you pass the exams.

Several years on, her accumulated raw material has been turned into a play directed by Nick Dunbar and performed by Mika Austin.

Naturally, the performance takes place in a lecture theatre, complete with lectern and piano. [More]

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