Twelve Questions: Pip Hall

Pip Hall says being playwright Roger Hall's daughter has opened some doors but they would have shut if she was without talent. Photo / Nick Reed

Pip Hall, the daughter of playwright Roger Hall, is a playwright herself, as well as a scriptwriter, actor and producer. Eight years ago she started synchronised swimming troupe Wet Hot Beauties.

1. Aren't there better things to do with your free time than synchronised swimming?
Not much! My friend Judy and I were looking for something a bit different, to break out of the malaise, I guess. My kids were not quite at school and you're in this routine, which makes everything smooth, but it's a bit groundhog day. I'd tried book club but it felt like I was back in 5th form doing homework - three minutes of awkward discussion about literature then we'd drink wine and eat biscuits. It was a bit suburban crisis. I wanted something active and a friend had done synchronised swimming but when we asked at a club if we could go, they said we were too old. So we thought f**k that. Now we perform with 60 people, doing water ballet to cool music.

2. Have you always been active?
I played basketball for Otago and still play basketball now. I learned to surf as a turning 40 crisis thing. I'm what you'd call an advanced beginner - it's really hard. Imagine learning to play tennis but every time you go the court is different. I think time stops women playing sport at a certain age. Maybe it's having kids and that weird disconnect you get with your body. I remember having little kids and you're like, 'my body is not my own any more'. I work mostly by myself so I play a lot of team sport which is great. I never got into meditation but it is very meditative because you're just reacting, not thinking 'I forgot to get that at the shop'.

3. How would you describe your childhood?
Pretty idyllic. Lots of love and lots of humour. We grew up in Dunedin and travelled a lot with Dad's work, both in New Zealand and overseas. There were always lots of very interesting people around - my mother is an amazing host, gracious and generous and so very welcoming. I was allowed to bring friends, waifs and strays home any time and it was never a problem. We went to every show at the Fortune Theatre. My parents were art lovers and invested in New Zealand art when they could, and instilled a life-long love of reading. And charades. We ate at the table and learned the art of conversation. I spent every summer with my grandparents on a farm and learned to drive a truck when I was 9 so I could help with hay-making.

4. Did you know your dad was famous?
Not really, it just was what it was. I knew he was great at his job and so we had all kinds of awesome opportunities like driving across the United States for a year and going to London when [his play] Middle-Age Spread opened in the West End. We met Richard Briars who starred in The Good Life who was in the show. Although we went to every opening night of my father's I remember thinking it was always really cool that people came up to him and talked to him and thanked him for reflecting them and their stories, which was pretty special.

5. Was it intimidating following him into writing as a career?
Kind of. I just accepted it for what it was. For a long time I thought I was going to be a professional basketball player, then did law and economics at university and flunked. Mum and Dad took my brother and me to London and paid for us to see any show we wanted. We saw about 50. I think that was Dad easing me into [theatre]. He said 'why don't you consider it when you go back to uni?' For sure [my father] has got me some feet in some doors but it's such a cut-throat industry that if I hadn't been any good I wouldn't have stayed there.

6. Do you think as women we've forgotten how to have fun?
I think it's an adult thing. One fantastic thing I've started doing is drawing. Kids draw and love it and don't care that their butterfly looks like a mushroom. But we care. Adults get obsessed with getting it right and that just gets in the way of enjoying it. Almost all of our troupe are non-dancers, including Judy and me, and we say it's not about getting it right, it's about being together. Our audiences respond to our big mistakes and us laughing about it. It's about joy. It's liberating. So many of us used to worry about just being in our togs!

7. How does the audience respond?
There was one young man recently who said, in this awed voice, 'Oh my goodness, I didn't realise women came in so many shapes'. I find that really great, and really sad. Our media are only reflecting one version of what women are.

8. Do you think society is hard on women as we age?
At the moment it's a youth culture, and that's not just women. Youth is celebrated, which is great, but it's also a very hard benchmark to maintain. I've been writing this film, The Urban Mermaid, inspired by water ballet and researching it I was looking at female archetypes and there's just not that many of them. Traditionally in a story there'd be the mum and, well ...

9. Who taught you about joy?
Family, friends, artists, nature, pets, babies, chefs, bartenders, DJs, the Muppets. I also think my relationship with joy is just part of my genetic make-up, embedded into my DNA. As a small child I was always connecting and laughing and overindulging. I take my hedonism very seriously.

10. What kind of mother are you?
I dunno - being a parent is the hardest job I've ever had. I have tried hard to maintain my own sense of worth and individualism. I want them to be interested and independent and have a strong sense of who they are and who I am. I went back to work when they were tiny - I guess I wanted to show them, especially my daughter, that women can choose their own path, and do whatever is right for them. It's not prescriptive. I try hard not to edit who I am for them so they learn the good, the bad and the ugly of life.

11. When were you at your lowest, and how did you pull yourself out?
I had a quarter-life crisis - wondering if I was on the right path. The bright glow of leaving university and hitting the industry and having first successes and first failures and thinking 'God, is this what I've let myself in for! Is this really the ride I want to be on?' I can't remember how I dealt with it, probably with a lot of late 90s hedonism. I remember life really felt like a grind for about a year but each day it got a bit brighter. It was near the millennium which made it feel all the more intense, for some reason.

12. What do you know about vulnerability?
That if you can embrace vulnerability, not let fear hold you back, then you open yourself up to so much more life. When you let go, amazing things happen.