The powerhouse performer that is Brady Peeti lit up this year’s Koanga Festival at Te Pou Theatre with a rousing encore season of the rock ‘n’ roll musical What Happened to Mary-Anne on Friday night. After debuting earlier this year at the Auckland Arts Festival, the show returned bolder and more defiant than ever. Written and performed by Brady, this is her tribute to rock legends like Meatloaf and Tina Turner, and the opportunity to create work to showcase her immense vocal and performance talent.

I first met Brady at the 2017 Auckland Theatre Awards afterparty at The Basement Theatre. I asked her what she did. “I’m a performer,” she said. Then she paused, smiled, and, with confidence, declared: “I can sang.” Not just sing – but sang – said in the way we reserve for the greats who can truly belt out a tune: like the Whitney Houstons, like the Patti LaBelles. The kind of voice that makes pool players in pubs stop mid-shot – as they did, I heard, when Brady tore through a Whitney Houston classic during karaoke night at a Hamilton bar. Her voice is big, bold, and unapologetic – and in What Happened to Mary-Anne, that talent is on full display.

As the title suggests, the show tells the story of Mary-Anne – a nurse, caregiver to her bedridden father, and the youngest of eight children. She lives with the guilt of knowing her mother died bringing her into the world and she lives under the weight of an ultra-conservative family that never fully accepts her. The story unfolds through Mary-Anne’s surreal, fantastical lens, punctuated by iconic rock anthems, giving voice to her pain, her hopes, and her dreams. You often are left wondering what is real and what is Mary-Anne’s imagination.

Brady channels and performs multiple characters – from Mary-Anne herself to her overbearing siblings, religious zealots, and even a one-eyed woman. With each role, she flexes her range as a natural performer, honed by her formal training at the National Academy of Singing and Dramatic Art in Christchurch and sharpened by years of professional stage work both in Aotearoa and Australia. Her transitions are seamless, her stage presence commanding. At times, she evokes the fierceness of Tina Turner; at others, she can morph with ease into rock goddesses like Joan Jett.

One of the central messages of What Happened to Mary-Anne is not to judge a book by its cover. With a voice rich in powerful R&B and soul tones, many might expect Brady to stick exclusively to those genres – perhaps even expecting her to create a musical centered around an Aretha Franklin or Whitney Houston setlist. But instead, she delivers a rock musical. And that choice is clever, subversive, and inspiring. Rock music is the perfect genre to defy expectations – it’s raw, rebellious, imperfect, and loud. It’s about truth-telling without apology. And Brady proves she can do it all – from “Cherry Bomb” by The Runaways to “Hey Jude” by The Beatles – daring anyone to try and box her in.

For me, the emotional centre of the show – and its entire tone – takes a sharp and powerful turn at its midpoint. Brady is a proud whakawāhine (trans) performer, yet I didn’t enter the show assuming Mary-Anne was a trans character simply because of who created and portrayed her. In fact, I was so naive that I initially believed Mary-Anne to be a cisgender, straight woman, but then, in the middle of an intense argument, Mary-Anne is cruelly and publicly referred to as a “fat tranny.” In that moment, the entire show shifts. Suddenly, everything clicked into place. The opening number – ‘”’m Just a Girl” by Gwen Stefani and “We Don’t Need Another Hero” by Tina Turner took on a deeper, more layered meanings. It became crystal clear: this is the story of a trans woman searching for dignity, love, and acceptance in a world that so often refuses to see her.

The way Brady portrays being hit with the slur “fat tranny” is one of the rawest, most authentic moments I’ve ever witnessed on a theatre stage. It in clear Brady is drawing from lived experience – you can feel the dagger twist in her heart each time she had to speak those two words. And yet, she never breaks character. She holds the pain, wears it, and carries on – offering the audience a moment of vulnerability while maintaining complete control of her craft.

Words like “poofter” “dyke” and “faggot” aren’t just insults – they’re weapons, designed to sting and leave a permanent scar. As a creator, I can imagine Brady reclaiming power by writing the hateful words that had left her with bruises – and choosing to say them aloud, night after night. In doing so, she doesn’t just recite them – she owns them. That act, of uttering “fat tranny” on stage every performance, takes immense courage. It’s a refusal to be silenced, a way of stripping those words of their power through her art. It doesn’t just hit the mark; it becomes a powerful moment that stays.

Brady doesn’t rely on tropes or clichés to tell this story. Instead, she weaves it with subtlety and depth – through humour, heartbreak, and the power of iconic rock music. From the moment of the mid-show reveal, the emotional stakes rise sharply. In certain monologues – especially those about not being seen or loved by the people who are meant to protect you – you can see Brady holding back real tears. It’s raw, it’s honest, and it is deeply moving.

Then, during the final moments of her rendition of ‘Hey Jude’, something beautiful happened: the audience joined in, the performer and her audience breaking the fourth wall to connect and unite for that brief moment. It felt like the audience wasn’t just singing – they were standing with Brady, and through their spontaneous group singalong to a Beatles classic, showed their empathy to Brady for being vulnerable and opening her heart on stage.

But even the fiercest soloists need a band behind them. Musical Director Bray Jeffrey – who played multiple instruments and Maia Huia on guitar and Hannah de Koesler on drums. provided much more than just the soundtrack and backup vocals.  Their onstage camaraderie and connection held space for Brady, and it was obvious that they had Brady’s back if she needed their support.

Director Benjamin Kilby-Henson allows the story to breathe, providing organic transitions between scenes and songs. Lighting designer Becky Boyce captures the high-octane feel of a rock concert, especially during Brady’s show-stopping finales – complete with the kind of dramatic stances you’d expect from Mick Jagger or Bon Jovi.

It’s fitting that the encore season found a home at Te Pou Theatre during Koanga Festival. Te Pou has been a creative and cultural hub for Brady – not only has she performed there many times, she’s also been part of the team behind the scenes, helping organise past Koanga Festivals. This season of What Happened to Mary-Anne felt like a homecoming, with Brady returning to present her work to her whānau.

If there’s anyone who was put on this earth for a purpose, it’s Brady Peeti. Through her whakawāhinetanga (transness), she’s become a trailblazer – redefining what it means to be a leading lady in theatre. She is achieving this on her own terms: through her talent to tell stories, through her talent to perform, and through her talent to sang!

Remaining performances for What Happened to Mary-Anne: Saturday 20 September at 8:30pm. Sunday 21 September at 4pm Closing night

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