I enjoyed and appreciated Jo Randerson’s Speed is Emotional and you will too. It’s unique, and you really should see it. The season plays through until 03 May in the Q Theatre Loft, so you’ve no excuse. Book now.

My ancient Mum used to say I was a creature of habit. This was seventy plus years ago but I think her view holds true today. Today, though, she’d have a name for what I am – what I exhibit as ‘behaviour’ – and I’d be on some spectrum or other, with Robert F Kennedy Jnr, in his new role as Trump’s Flat Earther in Chief (Health), promising new research to prove his, as yet unspecified, theory that I’m actually neuro-perverse, that he’s found a miraculous cure, and that the pig’s entrails he consulted say he’ll have it all done by September.

Until then, I guess I’ll just plod along, that weird kid from Room 4 over by the incinerator, who collects acorns, alphabetises them, and lays them out in chronological order under his desk.

This ‘creature of habit’ traditionally ends her reviews with an opinion and a recommendation but today she’s chosen to start that way, may continue being ‘out of order’, and life may never be the same (at least for her) ever again.

Fair to say, it’s all Jo Randerson’s fault.

Why? Because last evening I attended – and consumed – Jo Randerson’s Speed is Emotional. It follows most of the theatrical conventions – a beginning, a middle, an end, a narrative, characters, sets, and all the trappings. Music even. And AV. It’s different though because, for me anyway, the beginning wasn’t at the beginning, the end wasn’t at the end, and the middle just kept happening, enveloping us in its difference and in its emotional back and forth.

There’s an inner structure presented for us in slides with titles like ‘ADHD’ and ‘Shark DNA’ that allow us to slide in an out of the engrossing, and beautifully scribed, narrative.

I want to say it’s ‘autobiographical’ so I look that up and Merriam Webster tells me that autobiographical is ‘of, relating to, or being an autobiography’ which is not that helpful. Nor is ‘in the style of or based on an autobiography’, but eventually I hit paydirt with ‘of, relating to, or influenced by one’s life or past personal experiences.’  So, Speed is Emotional is autobiographical, and as such it tells the story of Jo in ways that are often cripplingly funny, achingly painfilled, and deeply, deeply personal.

And informative.

As personal as anything I’ve ever experienced.

We learn that, when Jo’s son was diagnosed with ADHD, much of what was said about him felt, to Jo, ‘awfully relatable’.

I get this.

When my lad was diagnosed – age eleven – with Asperger’s syndrome, the psychologist said it was often hereditary and I joked that he clearly didn’t get it from my wife who is as ‘normal’ as a normal thing, and everyone in the room immediately looked at me. Was it because I’d said something tasteless?

Apparently not.

So, I did some research and, voila, not just a naughty dumb kid at all, more like a kid who had struggled with a challenge that hadn’t yet been invented.

I learned that people with Asperger’s syndrome/autism often possess average to above-average intelligence – my son is on the 98^th percentile – and they may exhibit a deep interest in specific subjects, sometimes to the level of expertise. My son is a double sporting international – archery and karate – in sports that require frequent repetitive behaviour and a strict adherence to routine. Despite these strengths, some may struggle with understanding social cues, metaphorical language, and nonverbal communication.

I asked my lad about his diagnosis, and he said, ‘it’s my gift’, and went back to playing Minecraft, or Pokémon, or some such game at which he is most definitely, an expert.

Who’d be a parent?

Jo would.

Me too.

So, why does this matter? Because, if this can happen to me, it can equally happen to you, and it’s important that you start with accurate information. Jo Randerson’s Speed is Emotional gives you that information and personalizes it in the most wonderful – and intimate – way.

It turns out that Jo also has ADHD and, rather than shying away from it, they have embraced it as their ‘superpower.’

So, what do we need to know about ADHD to enjoy the show? Nothing really, but here goes anyway.

First, it’s a real thing. It’s a neurodevelopmental delay in a specific part of the brain, the part that’s responsible for filtering and control. It’s not willful naughtiness or laziness – that’s helpful – and it has nothing to do with intelligence. Just as there are differing levels of intelligence across the general population, so there are differing levels of intelligence in people with ADHD.

As happened in Jo’s case, diagnosis in adulthood often means gaining access to understanding yourself in a new and non-judgmental way that allows for adapting to changing situations, relationships, workplace requirements and life stages.

Thanks for that, ADHD New Zealand.

The upside is, that people with ADHD have increased energy levels, enthusiasm, creativity, intuition, sensitivity, and fun, and, you’ve guessed it, they’re more likely to become experts in their field.

No one could ever say that Jo Randerson isn’t an expert in the field of live performance,

‘Jo lives their life at ‘high voltage, with a brain that never stops and a fountain of restless energy fuelling their fiercely funny artistic voice. A true arts polymath, Jo has accumulated achievements, accolades and acclaim as a performer, comedian, writer, activist, director, curator, theatremaker, filmmaker, witch, and clown.’

Not my words but an accurate distillation of Jo’s CV.

In 2001, Jo founded Barbarian with partner Thomas LaHood who is also in the show. Thomas has been playing drums for six months, plays them in the penultimate part of the show, and does an excellent job.  

‘Barbarian is driven by a belief in radical fun, courageous expression, fluidity, generosity and participation’, and it is this ethos, we learn, that created, Speed is Emotional. It certainly has all those qualities. Jo ‘bares their soul’, shares the exhilaration, exhaustion, joy and absurdity of living and parenting with neurodiversity.

It’s an authentic claim, and evident throughout.

We watch as they ‘weave their punk poetic magic into a beautiful comedy about transcending labels and living with a voltage so high it’s going to blow the mains.’

‘Transcending labels?’ It’s true, but without the label in the first place, we have nothing to transcend.

Yep, Speed is Emotional. Randerson proves that. She zips along like a bat out of hell.

It’s an absolute sprint but, fortunately, there are a few ‘time out’ moments during which we meet a more reflective Jo, and we like that Jo very much. Not to say we don’t like manic Jo, fast Jo, we do, but we need the reflective moments to process everything else and her clever writing gives us these.

There are helpful performance signposts, anchors, expertly inserted by performance technician Elliot Vaughan who is a wonderful, empathic, adjunct to the action, and by the figures that intermittently appear from beneath the flowing silken set that make it seem like an ever-living thing, almost worthy of its own pronouns.

There are sublime segues that keep us hyper focused to avoid getting lost, not that this is likely as we’re happily riveted throughout. The predictable is matched by the seemingly random and we often find ourselves comfortably ensconced in leftfield as though it’s our natural habitat which its not.

Well, mostly not.

The fabric set is appropriately fluid and doubles as hiding place, cocoon, costume, and metaphor all at once.

It’s absolutely divine.

The actual costumes (Steven Junil Park) are also exceptional – timeless and practical, lighting (Bekky Boyce) is superb – complex and effective, and the AV (Kaleb Maunder) is outstanding.

Isobel MacKinnon’s direction, while being necessarily unobtrusive, gives a necessary structure when required

Just when I’d worked out what was going to happen next, it didn’t. The penultimate action devolved into a family musical performance featuring the combined multi-talents of the all-singing all-playing Randerson LaHood whānau – Geronimo LaHood, Caspar Randerson, Thomas LaHood, and Jo with expert support from musical director Elliot Vaughan on laptop and bass.

Applause and laughter suggest the fullish house were happily carried along by the musical performances and I was too. They were fun, beautifully rehearsed, at times exhilarating, and wonderfully real.

Jo Randerson ONZM (they/them) is among the best known and most respected theatre practitioners in Aotearoa New Zealand. Speed is Emotional is arguably their most courageous work to date addressing, first hand, their ADHD diagnosis and its impact on their life and the lives of those close to them.

On arrival at Q Theatre, after two days of severe weather warnings in the north, it was heartening to be welcomed by calm efficiency, the affirming smiles of Q staff, and a super stack of excellent show programmes.

I won’t deny that, as a long-time fan of Jo Randerson’s work, I’ve been anticipating experiencing this relatively new work for some weeks and, finally, here we are.

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