The Cape, in the words of the playwright, "is about all the journeys we make – mental, metaphorical, physical and the final spiritual one we are prepared for, or not prepared for." The specific journey on which we hitch our evening jaunt is undertaken by four almost mates, sharing a car ride north. Their stated destination is Cape Reinga, where conflicting currents meet and where, in Māori lore, the spirits born of Aotearoa depart for a different realm. It is also a milestone on the way to self discovery for the four young men who drive the plot.

Such ‘rites of passage’ are hardly earth shattering stuff and the journey metaphor has been well worked many times. It would be very odd if such a quartet could share such an enterprise without a good helping of mini-dramas and revelations. What saves the play from tedium are the tensions between characters as each struggles to maintain a persona and eventually to come to terms with a more realistic view of themselves and each other.

Things begin slowly. The rattled delivery of the early scenes had me wondering what we were in for. Once the language takes hold and characters establish a background and framework for development, a believable and dramatically interesting world flickers to life, although as a succession of scenes separated by dimmed lights and shuffled set pieces trundled by, I found myself thinking that film would be a more appropriate medium for this adventure.

The director, Elizabeth O’Connor, has her work cut out to shape the talk into action and best succeeds where some element of physical conflict breaks up the flow of inconsequential nattering or where two of the four only are on stage and in concentrated discussion.

All four actors build credibly on the material. As Arthur, with his drugs and dreams of owning a car park, Jack Jenkins presents a self absorbed and single-minded bloke whose reticence is well contrasted with Cheyne Atkinson’s hyper homophobe, EB.

As Mo, determined to conceal the truth of his illness from the group, Javier Jarquin rounds out the character with conviction and Nicolas Kyle as Jordyn, the gay student, provides some of the best moments as he defends his place in the world.

All the rashness, exaggeration, facile sarcasm and fragility of youth is stirred up in the course of this journey. The euphoria of the sunrise at Cape Reinga suggests that temporarily at any rate, the future and not some brawling present is what counts.  

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