This show is an epic adventure into tragedy, comedy, sex, death, overthinking, fastidiousness, hate and betrayal – all the big human stuff in a series of pocket-sized stories.  

I’m putting it out there right now that this kind of theatre is my jam and I love it. Eight fragments of lives unfold through the performances of eight amazing Wellington women.  

As we walk onto the Random Stage at BATS, a gothic table setting backlit in red captivates us. Back and centre, it is the ninth performer, its black brocade cloth laden with brass and silver, skulls, creepy flower arrangements, wine glasses and bottles, and tomatoes. The only other set is a small round café table also draped in black, with two black chairs.

The first story, called ‘Honey’, is performed by Maggie Leigh White – who coming home to her flat finds her flatmate locked in the bathroom sobbing over an ended relationship, and in an effort to comfort her, embarks on a long almost fairy tale of love changing over time. It is captivatingly told, with colour and light and nuance and sadness.

As she leaves stage right, Harriet Prebble enters stage left to perform ‘Nightshade’, a stream of consciousness piece, complete with actions and props, about how far one is willing to go to get away from a boring date. It is so monstrous and yet so relatable, which is a combination we see over and again in this show.

I am still reeling from ‘Nightshade’ when Stevie Hancox-Monk charges into the stage to bring us ‘Bodies’, about a woman who has become as repelled by human contact as she is attracted to long words.  This piece has the heightened comedy of a Touchstone or a Feste, and makes me regret my life choices that I missed seeing this remarkable actor in Hamlet.

‘Thinking’ is performed by Hannah Kelly, who is psychic but not really. Or is she? It’s a much more realistic piece, ironically, given the content. I am enjoying the different textures of this show.

Isadora Lao is out next with ‘Hold’, recreating the universal experience of dealing with a corporate phone system, codes and voice recognition, endless Kiwi anthems, the works. We all relate! We also relate to the complaint she eventually gets to make. It’s just not quite what we were expecting.

In what I am now relating to as a degustation menu served for our engorgement, the next story is a sharp citrus sorbet: a ‘Ditty’ that twists and twists. Dr Hannah Banks lands it well.

‘Puzzle’ really digs in. I thought I had worked it out pretty quickly but there’s oh so much more to this story of love ’til death do us part and some more beyond that. Lucy McCarthny strings us along, playing out a little at a time until we are totally undone. It’s hard to imagine where to go from here.

And finally, a sweet, sweet dessert – ‘Psh’ performed by Freya Daly Sadgrove. Oh the endearing joy of first meeting someone; oh the excruciating awkwardness of overthinking it all!

OK, so I get it. Gothic indeed, in the original sense of the word – emotions played out in heightened form and yet with such normal settings. A feast of eight different courses, but just light enough to leave us sated not stuffed. The ninth performer, silent on stage, says it all.

Uther Dean has created a piece with all of his poignant depressive genius that he describes as a mix tape. Mix tape, degustation feast however you look at it, these things work when they are balanced, the arc is right and the ending has some kind of endiness (I was going to say is satisfying but sometimes that’s not the point is it!). This is clearly a real team effort even though the performers only interact once, and full credit to every one of them and director Isobel MacKinnon for bringing this play to life and owning it.

Full kudos also to the production team – it all looks great and I am quite smitten with the tiny programme that fits so perfectly into bag or pocket – a level of thoughtfulness that shows in every aspect of this well-crafted production.

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