Take Me Home Mr! at the Maidment Theatre

By FRANCIS TILL

A romance, a comedy, a history of New Zealand, an allegory, a celebration of the politically incorrect lives we all lead, a bit of (older, male) nudity, a little commercial sex, an infatuatingly controversial allegory, some cross-cultural mating - this is no simple play.

It looks like a simple play, though, and that's a credit to author William Walker, who also takes the lead male role as George under David O'Donnell's direction. Grace Hoet won a Chapman Tripp best actress award for her role as Rose, George's younger, naive, and perpetual mate, and she certainly does spin the role. But it's Walker's George who steals the show with a sense of physical comedy, even in the buff, that few can match.

At the risk of driving audiences away, which I would not want to do, this play is actually an allegory. But it's an allegory that appears only on reflection, not one that hovers, although it does eventually intrude.

Under the skin of the play is 30 years during which the notion of failing Pakeha is personified by a finely drawn caricature of a regular and bandy bloke named George.

George is offset by two other, equally fine caricatures of 1970 Maoridom, fecund Rose and brittle Tania (Debs Pahina), who ascend, variously, in counterpoint. Pahina may be the most potent new actor of the season in her role as a small-town prostitute and premature crone.

Rose and George open in Rotorua, but quickly move to Melbourne where they can hold the status quo in stasis. There, they grow deeply together, only to be challenged by the sudden appearance of an illegitimate son, the callow Wiremu (Tammy Davis), who wears his 1985 colours and tats as an uncertain expression of nascent Maori empowerment.

By Act 3, Wiremu has taken everything on board and become a man of Mana, today's Maori leader and father to Little George, our inter-racial future.

All good, localised Faulkner, excepting only the mawkish bits at the allegory-driven end, and a worthwhile evening even without study.