This enjoyable, artful jumble starts with a fun stand-up comedy set from a lively homeless guy, Moko, who banters with the audience. He says he wants Jesus to turn up - a reference to Jesus Christ Superstar one floor below. "He's busy," shouts a punter. "Tell me about it, bro!" says Moko, quick as a flash.
He responds magically to a wide variety of song requests before turning into a storyteller. The hour is less "about" homelessness, and more about city lives as seen through the eyes of a character who happens to be homeless.
Affecting tales of others' frustration and loneliness - and reports of Moko's own more immediate, physical dangers - are mixed with amusing fantasies of suburban unicorn trees and home(less)-spun, upbeat Pollyanna philosophies. Moko feels sorry for office workers who keep their eyes glued on their phones during their lunch breaks; they need to look up and see the beautiful sky and people around them. While he gets incoherent with rage, it's always when he is pretending to be someone else; he is stoic about his own more desperate straits.
This homeless Maori guy is actually talented Pakeha actor Tim Carlsen, who has rejigged the show through several incarnations. Directed by Leo Gene Peters, this version is successfully stripped-down; in place of 2011's TV sets we have cassette decks, and Carlsen ropes in the audience to help him operate his own lights. The show gets points for showing off Q Loft's beautiful windows, usually under wraps.
The focus in this version is on Moko-audience interaction, and Carlsen, a master improviser, immediately connects and puts us at ease. We enjoy Moko's company, and care about him, and perhaps this keeps the show from feeling like middle-class self-indulgence. Moko is not just a cipher holding up a mirror to the lives of those with fixed abode, he also humanises the homeless. Like Walters Prize finalist Kalisolaite 'Uhila, Carlsen makes it harder for his audience to see the homeless as "other".
