It was a hot and sticky Valentine’s Day evening when we thronged into Thistle Hall on Cuba St for the opening night of Glenn Horsfall’s first solo show.

It was a supportive crowd. Horsfall is well-known in musical theatre circles and everyone was keen to see him take centre stage and to hear his story.

The idea for the show emerged after a visit to NASDA in Christchurch where he was asked to speak to the graduating students about life as a musical theatre performer. The speech didn’t go to plan … [More]

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There is a whānau feeling at Thistle Hall on the opening night of NZ Fringe 2025. The Wellington musical theatre whānau is well represented in the audience and, amid the many options available, This Wasn’t the Plan also turns out to be the choice of Mayor Tory Whanau.

As the title suggests, Glenn Horsfall’s autobiographical show confronts experiences most of us can relate to. It’s a classic example of the personal resonating as universal and it’s all the stronger for being very simply staged (director: Nick Lerew). Pianist/ arranger Hayden Taylor sits stage right and the Scott Maxim-designed projections and lighting are operated from just behind us, in the flat-floored hall.

In the pre-show, as the sun sets beyond the western windows, the images of Glenn and colleagues in musical theatre shows that play on the back wall of the performance space come into stronger relief. It turns out the projector and a strip of led footlights on either side of the ‘stage’ are the only lighting source – and mostly they work a treat. Who needs flashy tech when authentic talent is on offer?

Glenn arrives singing ‘Everything’s Coming Up Roses’ (from Gypsy) and wryly welcomes us to his Master Class for Aspiring Talent. He reveals this is another shot at the address he was invited to give to NASDA students in his home town of Christchurch, some years ago. This sparks our interest in why the students didn’t exactly find it inspirational, back then.  

Snapshots and stories of his childhood are instantly heartwarming. We all join in as he recalls his first experience of singing to an audience, at kindergarten. ‘A Cockeyed Optimist’ (South Pacific) captures his upbeat innocence. Being a happy high-achiever at primary school, he gets to deliver a wonderfully idealistic epilogue at a nativity pageant.

Glenn’s relaxed demeanour, while fully invested in sharing his story and singing the songs that distil each experience, has his audience totally engaged. We share his pleasure in recalling how his childhood is playing out. He’s not bragging, it’s just the way life is.

At intermediate school, Glenn’s choice of sport – netball – brings media fame, first in the newspaper then on the Holmes Show (TV current affairs, for younger readers). More accolades and medals underpin his self-esteem.

His trepidation on approaching rugby-focused Christchurch Boys High is musically medicated with ‘I Have Confidence’ (The Sound of Music). Drama is not strong at CBH but beyond its confines, he does get cast as Friedrich von Trapp in a national touring production of The Sound of Music. If this wasn’t the plan, I’m thinking, presumably it’s even better.  

The turning point is incited by the replay of his Holmes Show interview, programmed without warning as a nostalgia piece. The responses of teenaged schoolboys and high school staff reveal a dark side to so-called humanity that remains ever-present (although we’d like to think teachers are more enlightened now, when it comes to dealing with bullies). Glenn’s adolescent coping mechanisms include self-blame and dropping out of music and drama. ‘Waving Through a Window’ (Dear Evan Hansen) captures his state of being perfectly.

It is ironic, of course, that without this turn of events Glenn might never have felt moved to bring his story to the stage. We sense life has come right for him now so our interest turns to how that has come about.

With an inauspicious academic record, Glenn attempts to make a go of musical theatre, and has to adjust to being part of an ensemble rather than a standout performer. The way he sends himself up in the telling endears us to him even more. His move from Christchurch to Wellington and the dips into shows he was part of are amusingly related and illustrated. His decision to make the move to Australia leads to ‘Put on Your Sunday Clothes’ (Hello Dolly) and the intermission.

We share the angst of auditioning. A self-effacing “Thank you for the opportunity” and “If you know me, that’s not my forte” become recurring themes. He takes what he can get and we know this wasn’t the plan … A return to Wellington to play Cliff Bradshaw in Cabaret brings relative equilibrium and a venture into the dating scene – cue ‘Maybe This Time’ (Cabaret). And yes, something does start to percolate …

But his father’s unpredicted health crisis calls him back to Christchurch. The life lessons deepen through death. ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ (Carousel) distils the experience. Meanwhile Glenn’s partner, a French danseuse (Medhi Angot, credited in the programme as Overqualified Movement Coach) has moved to France. Glenn follows – ‘Times Are Hard For Dreamers’ (Amélie) captures the feeling – and discovers a new vocation as a music teacher. All seems positive until his role in a leadership programme provokes toxic behaviour on social media, triggering the unresolved trauma of high school bullying.

Now the true purpose of This Wasn’t the Plan becomes apparent. By using the language of musical theatre to share his personal story, perfectly pitched in style, content and musicality, Glenn wins the right to offer valuable advice. I won’t share it here because it will mean much more in the context of this show.   

‘It All fades Away’ (The Bridges of Madison County) carries the resolution and brings us to our feet in heartfelt appreciation.

[For other reviews of shows Glenn has appeared in since 2010, see here.]

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