The real magic of this production, is that director Bates has done exactly that — found every type of talented actor needed for this wonderful piece of theatre.
The cast of 11 are all brilliant actors in their own right, and under Bates’s nuanced, thoughtful and intelligent direction, they all have the opportunity to truly shine in this play.
The roles are all challenging — this is a play set in a mental institution after all, and the majority of the characters are inmates, with all the relevant quirks and behaviours you might expect.
A lesser cast would make this play abysmal. This cast does anything but.
They each lean into their characters, clearly having done plenty of work alongside Bates in understanding their motivations and backgrounds, and draw those out in an empathic, caring way, which means even when the humour is as dark as it can be, the audience feels safe to laugh. There’s no sense of mockery of individuals in this show, but rather the humour comes from the absurdity of life itself.
Set in Australia against the backdrop of the Vietnam War, the play challenges our perceptions of normality and right, using a mix of graveyard humour, pithily accurate observations, chills of reality and an innate sadness about the frailty of life and the cost of societal expectations on us all.
As Lewis, the inexperienced but caring director, Kharaiz Kiriona is absolutely incredible. He owns the role, and takes the audience on Lewis’s personal journey as he goes from a sense of fear of the patients, to having a strong connection and empathy with them.
He’s wonderful to watch throughout — but it’s the final moments of the play that Kiriona is given the opportunity to turn an excellent performance into one that will stay with audiences long after the final curtain. He takes that opportunity and runs with it, giving what I consider to be one of the best monologue performances I have seen in any theatre.
As Lewis puts aside his own Brechtian dreams when it comes to choosing the production, allowing the determined and passionate Roy (played by Keegan Pulman) to instead follow his dream of putting on the opera Così fan tutte.
Pulman is hysterically brilliant in this role. He demands attention whenever he is on stage, and manages the fine art of playing an extreme character without overplaying.
Another extreme character is the lewd, confrontational pyromaniac Doug. Played by Logan Fawkner, Doug is much more than the sum of his crimes, giving a balanced performance with some great physicality and expression.
Monique Matthews plays the delightfully funny Cherry, a patient who wants to both feed and kiss Lewis throughout the play. She has great comedic timing and physicality and uses both brilliantly throughout.
As Henry, a patient of limited words, Kent Robinson, gives a thoughtful performance that is convincing throughout. A less talented actor could easily make this character two-dimensional, but Robinson brings out the layers of Henry, to the point the entire audience is willing him to finish his sentence and to stand up for himself.
As the borderline catatonic Zac, and the boring idiot Nick, Josh McKee plays two very different characters with aplomb. His performance as Zac is brilliant, even when he’s simply slumped on the piano.
As the obsessive, pedantic Ruth, who struggles to understand where reality becomes make-believe and make-believe becomes reality, Emily Bain really shines. She brings a thoughtfulness to her role that ensures the audience is laughing with Ruth, not at her, and is perhaps the best representation of the struggles many face in just understanding how their own mind works and how to fit in with a world that doesn’t bring the same sense of black and white that some people need.
Becky McEwan plays Julie, the flower child drug addict who becomes a love interest in the plot. Early in the show she performs a poem about addiction that is heartbreaking, in both content and her delivery, giving a voice to exactly how a drug addict feels when they take their next hit.
Later on, when she sings, she brings the same haunting sense of truth and sadness to her performance, and throughout, McEwan gives an incredibly strong performance of a true addict — someone who will never actually be fixed, but rather will always live in either addiction or recovery, always seeking the next thrill — from drugs or life. Her scenes with Kiriona are beautiful to watch, while her scenes with Matthews as Cherry are wonderful funny. Both actresses have great physicality and comedic timing, and when they share the stage they absolutely shine, feeding off each other’s energy.
As the slightly pompous, possibly idealistic social worker Justin, Bailey Thompson is well cast. His character wants the best for his patients but doesn’t seem really to understand them, and he is more focused on the paperwork than the people at times. Rather than letting the character simply be an ineffective person in a broken system, under Bates’s direction Thompson brings out a nice gentleness to Justin — leaving the audience wondering, is it that he doesn’t understand his patients — hence accepting a lie about who was responsible for a fire, or is it that he chooses to believe the lie, to ensure they can keep their theatre class?
Simon Mace as the mysterious entrepreneur and Pipa Clarkson as Lewis’s partner Lucy round out the cast, both giving strong performances throughout.
In the second act, the audience is treated to a performance within a performance, as the inmates put on their opera on a stage on a stage. This brings some of the best comedy of the night, partly perhaps because Bates’s direction has ensured the first half brings a sense of discombobulation, true to the experience of both Lewis and the patients, and as that disorientation gives way to the joy we see as the patients perform their opera, we feel as though we have been on the same journey as they have.
The staging, including the stage on a stage, is excellent, with well-placed props and simplistic lighting, combined with some great stage effects of smoke and sound, all creating a real sense of space — that we are in a dingy underused theatre space in an asylum in 1970s Australia.
The show is dark yet funny, thought-provoking yet not condescending, and packed with talent.
Buy tickets and see it. You’d be mad not to.
The Details:
What: Così
Where: Cue Theatre, Inglewood
When: Now until December 7
Ilona Hanne is a Taranaki-based journalist and news director who covers breaking and community news from across the lower North Island. She has worked for NZME since 2011.
