Barely out of his teens, Jack Gray placed first in the novice male category at the Hershey's National Aerobic Championships in 1997.
Choreographer Jack Gray makes the jump to Hyperspace and opens up to Joanna Wane about his “sequinned past”.
No carbs. No body hair. No pale, pasty skin. Definitely no flab. And, as one of the judges told a camp young Māori boy from Te Atatū at the 1996 national aerobics competition, “Lose the tassels.” Lord knows what she thought when he turned up a year later with his hair braided Bob Marley-style and dressed in the colours of Jamaica.
Appearance counted for almost as many points as strength and athleticism in the world of performance aerobics, where aerial lifts and one-arm push-ups were a key part of the routines. When one half of an Auckland duo competing at an international event famously told his partner she was as heavy as a sack of meat, the story made it into a weekly women’s magazine after they got back home.
Jack Gray was a schoolboy weighing less than 60kg when he took part in his first aerobics competition. Four years later he’d qualified for the 1998 world championships in Brazil where he wore a two-piece outfit stitched with koru patterns in glittering gold sequins and performed to Poi E.
“I remember being told I was camp. I had no idea what that meant at the time,” says Gray, whose competition outfits were made by TYT, the trendy activewear label of the day. “In the end, we got rid of the tassels, but then I had a one-shoulder crop top …”
An internationally renowned contemporary dancer, choreographer and founding member of Atamira Dance Company, Gray had kept his “sequinned past” a well-kept secret until he got bored during lockdown and posted some old video footage of one of his routines on social media, sending shock waves through the dance community. “It broke the internet,” he says, wryly.
Coming out as a secret aerobics nut still makes him cringe; the sport’s muscular, explosive power and cheesy presentation are the antithesis of contemporary dance with its graceful movements and understated cool. But Gray never fit the stereotype, anyway, performing to a Tahitian song in one of his first competitions instead of a 90s banger, and cultivating a showmanship and stage presence that brought the crowds to their feet.
Now he’s reliving that snazzy vibe as the choreographer for Hyperspace, a new play opening in Auckland next month about the unlikely partnership between a bad-ass, smalltown girl and a hard-knock haka queen who pair up for the mixed doubles at the New Zealand Aerobics Championships.
Pitched as a 90s homage to all the dance movies ever made, it’s a sequel of sorts to writer Albert Belz’s 2019 hit play Astroman, which was set in the 80s. Winner of the 2023 Adam NZ Play Award, Hyperspace comes with a killer retro soundtrack and an unexpected twist to what’s essentially a feel-good story about friendship and following your dreams.
“Looking back at the videos and mustering a viewpoint that can serve me to tautoko the actors for the play, the thing that you really connect with is the energy behind the person, their tenacity and exuberance,” says Gray, who’s now in his late 40s. “It’s throwing back to something pure and joyful. And for me, it was about remembering that time and the sparks of desire for self-determination, whatever form people chose.”
By the end of last year, he’d already put the two lead actors, Te Ao o Hinepehinga (Head High, Shortland Street) and newcomer Kruze Tangira, through a two-day boot camp and set them some homework for the holidays: mastering one-arm push-ups and the splits. Both considered themselves to be pretty fit — Tangira is a past captain of the New Zealand men’s netball team — but they barely survived the first day. “It was a shock to the system,” says Gray, who pushed them to the limit.
“They went away with a framework of what a 1992 routine would look like and a list of all the things they need to do to be able to achieve that. And I said, ‘Look, I learned how to do the splits on my parents’ bed’.”
Gray (Ngāti Porou, Ngāti Kahungunu, Ngāpuhi, Te Rarawa) grew up in Te Atatū playing the clarinet, speed rollerskating around the house and getting top marks at school. His father was a rugby coach and his brother played at representative level, while his sisters took to netball. Equally fearless, Gray preferred the more artistic movement of gymnastics, using old-school beer crates as a vault to practise double twists at home, landing straight onto the concrete.
One of his first memories, as a preschooler, was watching flamboyant 80s fitness guru Richard Simmons on the telly. So when Rutherford College became the first school in the country to introduce a dance class into the syllabus, taught by renowned educator Patrice O’Brien, Gray signed up as soon as he could. “It was probably the first space in which I truly felt accepted.”
In his seventh-form year, the Secondary School Aerobics Championships were held for the first time. Inspired by national aerobics champion Jase Te Patu — “the first Māori male I’d seen winning” — Gray gave it a shot, coming second in Auckland and then placing seventh at the nationals.
After leaving school, he studied contemporary dance and choreography at Unitec, but in 1997 he took a year off to work the competitive aerobics circuit full-time. Fitness classes at Les Mills were “the absolute rage” and he spent most of his day at the gym. “I’d do a Black Grace dance class, then Body Pump, followed by stretching and working on my routine,” he says. “In the evening, I’d do a cardio class — Body Jam, Step or Super Circuit, sometimes two in a row — and a yoga class. I was 20 then, so it didn’t faze me.”
When he qualified for the 1998 World Aerobics Championships in Brazil, his father footed the bill. The only time Gray had been out of the country before was for a school kapa haka trip to Sydney. Travelling alone this time, he ended up sleeping at the airport on a stopover in Chile because no one spoke English and he didn’t know how to get to a hotel.
When he finally arrived at his accommodation in Santos, where the competition was being held, he spent the first few days sneaking food from the buffet until he worked out how to cash his traveller’s cheques. The first thing he saw when he stepped out onto the street was a woman casually walking past in a thong. Gray’s long black hair and brown skin meant he blended in with the locals and he loved every minute of it. “Brazil has quite a flamboyant culture; the vibrancy of it was thrilling.”
At the competition venue, the atmosphere was more intimidating. The New Zealand team featured some high-profile stars, including 1997 world champion Arelene Thomas and the Aitken triplets. Back home, the judges had responded positively to the energy he brought to the stage, with fluid movements that drew on his dance training and referenced Polynesian culture. This time, his routine failed to fire.
“I was really into this edginess and pushing my own sense of creativity,” he says. “In Brazil, there was no cultural context. They just didn’t know how to read it. And I was rattled, definitely. Everyone had a team of physios and dietitians, and they were all wearing Reebok and Nike. I was sponsored by my father.”
He finished 26th, near the bottom of the standings. “I would never say that I failed. I can forever say that I represented New Zealand at the world championships. But I knew that I didn’t reach my potential. I think I beat the Netherlands. But then most of the competitors were ex-Olympic gymnasts. Well, that’s a long throw from a garage in Te Atatū.”
In 1992, the first episode of Shortland Street went to air with an infamously steamy “workout” between Dr Chris Warner (Michael Galvin) and a married aerobics instructor, played by real-life aerobics star Suzy Aiken (no relation to the triplets). You can watch the whole, uncensored episode online, via the NZ on Screen website. But when I probe Gray to spill some scandal behind the scenes — surely it was a hotbed of cocaine-fuelled sex romps, with a brisk black-market trade in illegal body-building supplements — he’s disappointingly coy.
“What? Wow, okay, let’s go with that,” he says, with a laugh. “The amount of fun I could have had! I mean, they were some heady days. All I remember is people not being able to eat carbs after 8pm.” He reckons the steroids used by bodybuilders for “show muscles” didn’t suit the dynamic nature of aerobic routines. The worst he’ll admit to is that the rivalry between feuding teams could become so intense that judges were accused of playing favourites if a result didn’t go the right way.
By 1999, he’d retired from competition. The following year, the Atamira Dance Collective — conceived by Gray as a platform for innovative Māori contemporary dance and choreography — performed for the first time at the Auckland Dance Festival. A long-time dancer and choreographer with the company, he spent five years as its artistic director before stepping down in 2023 to concentrate on his collaborations with indigenous dance communities around the world.
Fostering a sense of personal identity through cultural connection sits at the heart of Hyperspace, where the two key characters, Natalie and Tawhai, decide to shake up the competition by devising a new aerobics dance style they call haka fusion. What is that exactly?
“My answer to that is whakapapa,” he says. “Those actors know who they are. And the beauty of this routine is that it will unlock their truth. It is the essence of ihi [the connection between physical being and the spiritual realm] coming from their turangawaewae in their little aerobic shoes. And no one performs like Māori.
“You’ve got a Māori cast. You’ve got a Māori choreographer. You’ve got Māori excellence in the whare. So that’s the fusion. It’s understanding the form of aerobics as another tool for us to be who we are and bring everything of ourselves to the surface.”
I Wanna Sex You Up, Color Me Badd (1991): For all the R&B boy bands of the early 90s, and also for a giggle because my high school ball saw every male in a coloured suit [inspired by the music video]. I chose a teal two-piece with a white turtleneck shirt. My traditionalist father was mortified.
What’s the Time Mr Wolf, Southside of Bombay (1992): An anthem thanks to the movie Once Were Warriors, a breakout film that challenged every stereotype of intergenerational trauma with a song that had a sense of comfort and being able to roll with the challenges.
Linger, The Cranberries (1993): I grew up mostly listening to R&B, highly influenced by my whānau and friend groups. When I started my contemporary dance training, suddenly I was exposed to many other styles of music. I loved the softness of Dolores O’Riordan’s voice and enjoyed dancing to their music.
Let the Beat Control Your Body, 2 Unlimited (1994): An example of every bit of cheesy aerobics music that was all the techno rage in the 90s. Absolutely terrible, but definitely part of the fitness scene.
Everlong, Foo Fighters (1997): The acoustic guitar riff is iconic, haunting and melodious. I distinctly remember relating to the way it builds to the chorus. Songs like this tapped into my emotive side, which drove my deeper connection to aerobics. I won twice that year!
Joanna Wane is an award-winning senior feature writer in the New Zealand Herald’s Lifestyle Premium team, with a special focus on social issues and the arts.
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