The Bellbird at the Maidment Theatre

By PETER CALDER

Stephen Sinclair's "new" play - written in the early 1990s and resurrected by the Auckland Theatre Company's enterprising 2nd Unit workshop - adds flesh to a few fragments of bone the writer unearthed in the National Archive: three letters written in the 1870s to the Native Affairs Department by a Pakeha woman, disowned by both races after the death of her Maori husband.

Sinclair imagines the meeting and marriage of a couple he calls Flo and Api and, in the process, conjures up a striking, and often moving depiction of the uneasy relationship between the two cultures and in particular their conflicting notions of family and love.

It is a bold idea, uncomfortably resonant for a society still coming to grips with the meaning, let alone the practical reality, of biculturalism. And, apart from a couple of banal moments - the use of flax-weaving to symbolise the "aroha that makes us strong" was the most egregious example - and a couple of rambling stories from Rachel House's kuia, this premiere production is engrossing theatre.

Oliver Driver's direction and Sean Coyle's set, dominated by a cabbage tree, underlines the play's driving idea of cultures poles apart: the action moves from side to side, between the sinuous undulations of a darkly shadowed hillside and the rough rectangles of pioneer dwellings, which is evocative, even if it makes for a certain visual monotony.

The script, too, makes telling use of the cultural contrasts: Flo chucklingly derides Api's "superstitions" before saying grace and refers to where she comes from as "polite society". And Te Reotakiwa Dunn's spare musical accompaniments are haunting and effective.

It is in the performances that the piece, while occasionally stumbling, stands proudly. As Api, Tearepa Kahi made a disastrous start on the preview opening night: his hamming and contortions were plainly an attempt to contrast with the Pakeha characters' prim restraint, but he settled into a more measured pace and will doubtless mature as the season progresses.

Helen Steemson as the maid Elsie, a somewhat underwritten character, had a tendency to gabble, which was rather highlighted by Elizabeth Hawthorne's deliciously dry and ostentatiously virtuous Mrs Harrington.

But it is Flo's story, and Danielle Cormack is pitch-perfect in the part, never greedy for our empathy but conveying the mounting sense of panic, first as love steals up on her and then as her life falls to pieces.

The climax is rather melodramatically handled, but redeemed by closing moments which are gut-wrenchingly moving. In sum, it is a play of heart and soul and a valuable addition to our literature.