This intense collection of captivating theatrical performances has the audience transfixed. The intimacy of a small theatre holds each artist laid bare in the palm of your hand where you can feel the rawness of each story in your own soul.

I am mesmerised by Frances Leota, who uses haunting melodies to invoke feelings of despair, desolation and hope. A singing Goddess shows us a life that once beckoned full of promise to a young girl full of dreams and who was then crushed by them. We sail the sea of her songs as the winds of change sweep through with stunning harmonies. I feel the transcending power of motherhood heal and nurture the courage to dream once more.

Kiribati meets Broadway in the delightfully expressive performance by Erebuka Bwauro. A poignant story unfolds with playful mischief weaving Kiribati culture deftly into the fabric of self-discovery while she explores new horizons in Aotearoa. Erebuka is irresistible and adorable with her joyful spirit and defiance of limits while she takes us on her adventure away from the Kiribati islands.

With childlike wonder and Broadway sass, she navigates the minefield of cultural limitations, family expectations and a determination to pursue her own truth while staying true to her origin and faith in God.

A gripping and dramatic, nail scratching entry filled with theatrical suspense sees Sela-Emily Fiu-Poufa deliver a spine-tingling piece that is as distressing as it is compelling to watch. This raw and evocative performance of agony, anger, torment and desperation is confronting and chilling while it tells me that insanity is a spiritual experience and reminds me that those closest to us have the power to cause the greatest harm.

Sela-Emily startles and bewilders with piercing screams, and eerie shudders as she flinches and repeats that “black bird ain’t never gonna fly” and I’m left to wonder what her grandmother did to create this nightmare.

Such a heavy performance preceded by a melee of emotions ranging from heartbreak to joy and horror means it’s nothing short of a miracle that Dylan Fa’atui is able to rescue you from feelings of despair by bringing you to his campfire to feel the warmth of his story on your skin. A born or made storyteller I cannot tell, but through song, voice, expression and dance he takes you into his loving home to meet his grandmother Mamele and then pours all of his emotions into your heart.

With gentle but dramatic visions he conjures her grace and we laugh, cry and want more. More of his stories and more of the lens through which Dylan views the world to inspire and remind us to love profoundly, laugh freely and find treasures in all the details sparing none for a sweet memory.

I feel so alive watching these brave and spirited performances by Pasifika artists who invoke every feeling that my heart knows about life. It’s raw, real and human and woven by the unique perspective of Pacific islanders who know no other way than to infuse their family and their love into everything.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer

Thursdays in a Wellington December are too-often a muggy affair. Late night shopping, the same three Christmas carols blasting out of every retailer with scores of shoppers, corporate Christmas party goers streaming everywhere …  

On Thursday 13 December 2018 I am very lucky to get a reprieve. The 2018 Measina Festival is held from 12 – 16 December at Te Kāhui Auaha. As part of the Festival the show Origins showcases the talents of four artists who all produced short theatre works. They are Frances Leota, Erebuka Bwauro, Sela-Emily Fiu-Poufa and Dylan Fa’atai.

Frances Leota: ‘EighTEEN’

Countless Fantine’s have sung ‘I Dreamed A Dream’; Anne Hathaway won an Oscar for it, Susan Boyle went viral, Patti LuPone and Lea Salonga too. Frances Leota is singing the Schönberg classic to open her short play, EighTEEN.

Dressed in white, and utilising the staging as a dynamic storytelling device, Leota tells a story of perseverance and the healing power of love. Transitioning from the iconic musical number to ‘The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face’ (the most famous version is by the soul legend Roberta Flack), Leota’s voice – both in terms of her singing ability and her ability to communicate ideas – is undeniable. The highlight of EighTEEN is Leota’s haunting rendition of Te Vaka’s ‘Loimata E Maligi’. This song, ripe with grief, is utilised meticulously, and great sensitivity is shown to the mana of the song.  

Leota’s use of staging, the gorgeous harmonies and accompaniments, and her unflinching vulnerability tells a story of her heart and her journey.

Erebuka Bwauro: ‘Au Borao My Journey’

I have a sneaking suspicion Erebuka Bwauro was not being metaphorical when she quips, “You can move a mountain if you use a larger spade.” Anyone who  makes folding a sheet look fun is capable of superhuman feats.

‘Au Borau My Journey’ is, like its creator, endlessly charming, funny and poignant. The comedic timing of the cast is impeccable with jokes translating to an audience that does not speak Taetae ni Kiribati but can understand that the girl in the jacket and sunnies is the coolest, funniest person in any room.

Bwauro is a star, one of those prophetic ones that helps way-finders. There’s no other way to put it. She is a source of light and direction. She has the audience orbiting around her. This is a story about her journey to New Zealand, but it is also a story of what she has brought with her: her hopes and dreams. Her home is personified by the supporting cast dressing her up to dance; their harmonies, both vocal and how they worked together to dress Bwauro, are beautiful. Whatever the next part of the journey holds, I have a feeling Bwauro will find a big enough spade.

Sela-Emily Fiu-Poufa

Sela-Emily Fiu-Poufa is letting her nails drag across the wooden floor and the sound makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. The words of Nina Simone’s ‘Blackbird’ have, just prior, been played during intermission before this short play, and while the music is no longer playing it is like the following refrain is echoed:
  You ain’t got no one to hold you
  You ain’t got no one to care
  If you’d only understand dear
  Nobody wants you anywhere.

From the moment Fiu-Poufa’s nails hit the wooden floor, I and the rest of the audience are hers.  

This short’s only light source is a dimmed spotlight shining down onto Fiu-Poufa from high above Stage Left. This light is essentially the supporting cast. The talented Fiu-Poufa personifying her spotlight/ cast-mate/ manifestation of God, all part of her magnetic pull on the audience, lulls us all into the suspension of disbelief as she commands the stage with her brave choices.

“Ye shall not make any cuttings in your flesh for the dead, nor print any marks upon you: I am the LORD.” –Leviticus 19:28 KJV

“This ink is choking my Christian blood.” – Sela-Emily Fiu-Poufa

Each repetition, each tic, each plea for help, each accusation seems placed at the right place to keep the tempo of the piece energetic and to tell a story of deterioration. This placement highlights the strength of the play and how well Fiu-Poufa knows this character and is able to communicate using the character’s voice.

Dylan Fa’atui: ‘Fetu O Le Lagi’

Dylan Fa’atui lets us see into his relationship with his nanna, Mamele Senerita Fa’atui. He lets us see their poorly-applied-lipstick laughs, their Women’s Day time and koko alaisa for breakfast. He lets us see how a stroke and a limited vocabulary changes things and how those things change nothing. He lets us see his selfishness; his weaknesses.

This short play starts with a beautiful siva, with great partner work, well suited to the music/ theme and graceful movements. This is where the storytelling magic begins. Fa’atui, armed with a reservoir of courage, openness, charm and wit (and possibly an audition tape for Season 11’s Ru Paul’s Drag Race), tells the story of Mamele Senerita Fa’atui.

Fa’atui is evidently a gifted, hardworking storyteller. The tempo of the story is dynamic, pushing and pulling as the story teller Fa’atui sees fit. Most people in the audience do not know his nanna before he starts, but we all fall in love with her as he tells us about their bond.

Fa’atui ends by telling us about the loss of his nanna. He is admitting his shortcomings. It is here, in these admissions of shortcomings, that he takes a moment to breathe and collect himself. It is in these moments, when he tells us that the times together with his nanna fill him up. It is in these moments we get to see his mana and his strength.

Dynamic stories of perseverance, a journey, deterioration and a special relationship

Thursdays in a Wellington December are too-often a muggy affair. Late night shopping, the same three Christmas carols blasting out of every retailer with scores of shoppers, corporate Christmas party goers streaming everywhere …

On Thursday 13 December ‘18 I am very lucky to get a reprieve. The 2018 Measina Festival is held from 12 – 16 December at Te Kāhui Auaha. As part of the Festival the show Origins showcases the talents of four artists who all produced short theatre works. They are Frances Leota, Erebuka Bwauro, Sela-Emily Fiu-Poufa and Dylan Fa’atai.

Frances Leota: ‘EighTEEN’

Countless Fantine’s have sung ‘I Dreamed A Dream’; Anne Hathaway won an Oscar for it, Susan Boyle went viral, Patti LuPone and Lea Salonga too. Frances Leota is singing the Schönberg classic to open her short play, EighTEEN.

Dressed in white, and utilising the staging as a dynamic storytelling device, Leota tells a story of perseverance and the healing power of love. Transitioning from the iconic musical number to ‘The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face’ (the most famous version is by the soul legend Roberta Flack), Leota’s voice – both in terms of her singing ability and her ability to communicate ideas – is undeniable. The highlight of EighTEEN is Leota’s haunting rendition of Te Vaka’s ‘Loimata E Maligi’. This song, ripe with grief, is utilised meticulously, and great sensitivity is shown to the mana of the song.  

Leota’s use of staging, the gorgeous harmonies and accompaniments, and her unflinching vulnerability tells a story of her heart and her journey.

Erebuka Bwauro: ‘Au Borao My Journey’

I have a sneaking suspicion Erebuka Bwauro was not being metaphorical when she quips, “You can move a mountain if you use a larger spade.” Anyone who  makes folding a sheet look fun is capable of superhuman feats.

‘Au Borau My Journey’ is, like its creator, endlessly charming, funny and poignant. The comedic timing of the cast is impeccable with jokes translating to an audience that does not speak Taetae ni Kiribati but can understand that the girl in the jacket and sunnies is the coolest, funniest person in any room.

Bwauro is a star, one of those prophetic ones that helps way-finders. There’s no other way to put it. She is a source of light and direction. She has the audience orbiting around her. This is a story about her journey to New Zealand, but it is also a story of what she has brought with her: her hopes and dreams. Her home is personified by the supporting cast dressing her up to dance; their harmonies, both vocal and how they worked together to dress Bwauro, are beautiful. Whatever the next part of the journey holds, I have a feeling Bwauro will find a big enough spade.

Sela-Emily Fiu-Poufa

Sela-Emily Fiu-Poufa is letting her nails drag across the wooden floor and the sound makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. The words of Nina Simone’s ‘Blackbird’ have, just prior, been played during intermission before this short play, and while the music is no longer playing it is like the following refrain is echoed:
  You ain’t got no one to hold you
  You ain’t got no one to care
  If you’d only understand dear
  Nobody wants you anywhere.

From the moment Fiu-Poufa’s nails hit the wooden floor, I and the rest of the audience hush.  

This short’s only light source is a dimmed spotlight shining down onto Fiu-Poufa from high above Stage Left. This light is essentially the supporting cast. The talented Fiu-Poufa personifying her spotlight/ cast-mate/ manifestation of God, all part of her magnetic pull on the audience, lulls us all into the suspension of disbelief as she commands the stage with her brave choices.

“Ye shall not make any cuttings in your flesh for the dead, nor print any marks upon you: I am the LORD.” –Leviticus 19:28 KJV

“This ink is choking my Christian blood.” – Sela-Emily Fiu-Poufa

Each repetition, each tic, each plea for help, each accusation seems placed at the right place to keep the tempo of the piece energetic and to tell a story of deterioration. This placement highlights the strength of the play and how well Fiu-Poufa knows this character and is able to communicate using the character’s voice.

Dylan Fa’atui: ‘Fetu O Le Lagi’

Dylan Fa’atui lets us see into his relationship with his nanna, Mamele Senerita Fa’atui. He lets us see their poorly-applied-lipstick laughs, their Women’s Day time and koko alaisa for breakfast. He lets us see how a stroke and a limited vocabulary changes things and how those things change nothing. He lets us see his selfishness; his weaknesses.

This short play starts with a beautiful siva, with great partner work, well suited to the music/ theme and graceful movements. This is where the storytelling magic begins. Fa’atai, armed with a reservoir of courage, openness, charm and wit (and possibly an audition tape for Season 11’s Ru Paul’s Drag Race), tells the story of Mamele Senerita Fa’atui.

Fa’atui is evidently a gifted, hardworking storyteller. The tempo of the story is dynamic, pushing and pulling as the story teller Fa’atui sees fit. Most people in the audience do not know his nanna before he starts, but we all fall in love with her as he tells us about their bond.

Fa’atai ends by telling us about the loss of his nanna. He is admitting his shortcomings. It is here, in these admissions of shortcomings, that he takes a moment to breathe and collect himself. It is in these moments, when he tells us that the times together with his nanna fill him up. It is in these moments we get to see his mana and his strength.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer