During the first three months of the year I've been to a lot of shows. Certainly a lot compared with my previous rate of live entertainment, which was near zero while I was doing Honours. As I've completely failed to blog about each show individually, here is a quick roundup of how I spent some of the more enjoyable parts of my Q1.
In early January I went to a production of the Cole Porter musical Anything Goes at the Court Theatre in Christchurch. The songs were very good (naturally) and the story, being written by P.G. Wodehouse, was just delightful. The character of idiotic Englishman was clearly based on the indefatigable Bertram Wooster - so much so that the actor simply channeled Hugh Laurie for most of the show. The male actors handled the singing parts excellently, but I felt that the women's voices were a bit thin for the big swingy numbers. Solid acting and costuming carried this one to a successful conclusion.
In late January I saw AC/DC rock the Westpac stadium. Having missed out on tickets to the first, sold-out show due to a website error on the day sales opened (last winter sometime), I and companion wound up at the less popular second show. It was roughly three-quarters full, including a surprising number of people who opted to water down the whole experience by sitting in the stands. We stood, and jumped, through AC/DC's entire set and came away satisfied in the way that only loud rock'n'roll can satisfy. Stage antics enhanced most songs, from the opening where the band crashed through a big screen on a full-size model locomotive, to lead singer Brian Johnson introducing Hells Bells1 by swinging from a giant bell. However when I read reviews of the Auckland show a few days later, it took the shine off a bit to discover that Johnson used exactly the same stage banter in both shows. It's probably too much to ask from a huge band doing a huge tour, but a little spontaneity adds a lot to the experience.
Also in late January I went to a short play named The Connection at Bats. This was basically an excuse to showcase some varieties of the funky 70s dance style known as electric boogaloo. The amazing dance segments were built around a rather thin plot which was nonetheless good for a few laughs. Like many things experienced at Bats, this was interesting and different without taking itself too seriously.
In late February the Festival of the Arts kicked off, and I was shouted a ticket to Latvian production The Sound of Silence at the TSB Arena. Props to the Festival organisers for their decision to chop the TSB in half, turning one hopeless venue into two pretty good ones. In the northern end of the building, fourteen beautiful Latvians performed for two and a half hours in complete silence, broken only by snippets of Simon and Garfunkel records. The story followed the fortunes of a group of young people living in a shared home as they formed friendships, fell in love and started families. By turns intense, silly, humorous, moving, farcical and puzzling, the show explored the meaning of youth and of growing older before finishing on an unexpectedly poignant note.
In early March, in the dying days of the Fringe Festival, I made it to an improv show at Circa named Garry Trotter and the Philosopher's Watchamacallit. This was a really great production by a group called, with great originality, The Improvisers. The actors did a fantastic job of making use of all the random cues thrown them by the audience, including remembering the correct pronunciation of the name of a small North Island town for a full ten minutes. They even handled with aplomb the left-field introduction of the name of David Bain; after a momentary wince, the narrator elegantly chose to focus on the real Bain's crimes against fashion, rather than any other facet of his public image. It was nicely done, as was the entire show. I'll be keeping an eye out for these guys in future.
A week later I managed a rock star one-two: the amazing Amanda Palmer ("punk cabaret") at Bodega, followed the next afternoon by her amazing fiancé Neil Gaiman (American Gods, Good Omens) at the Town Hall. Of the two, I was most taken with Amanda Palmer, largely because she was such a surprise. Knowing nothing about her, I went to her gig to find a room heaving with panting acolytes (yelling "we love you Amanda" at regular intervals is apparently not considered over the top); a beautiful deep voice ranging from soft and intimate to a full-throated howl of rage; and some really smashing piano work, to say nothing of the ukulele. I was still dazed from the experience by the time I reached the Town Hall next day, where Neil Gaiman wowed us for over an hour with observations on magic and mythology, Edwardian literature, gods, children, the British seaside, and a truly excellent unpublished poem about the sacrificial death of Saint Oran. (The line "God is not what you imagine" features repeatedly, to great unsettling effect; there's something a lot more disturbing there than a simple "your God does not exist".)
In late March I went to the Wellington Summer Ukulele Fiesta in the Botanic Gardens, organised with panache by the Wellington Ukulele Collective. The main attraction for me was the advertised "sing and strum workshop", and I took my little plastic/plywood ukulele2 along full of excitement at playing with other ukuleles for the first time. There were over 100 ukuleles present; it was truly inspiring to see all these people strumming away together on so many different shapes and styles of instrument. The five songs chosen for the workshop represented a good range of styles without being too difficult for beginners, and all in all it was an excellent afternoon. The open mic session which followed was great fun and revealed a few budding stars. There's something about the ukulele that literally brings people together: other instruments seek out contrasting voices to play with; ukuleles like to play together in a group. The Fiesta was a wonderful celebration of this quality and for once the Wellington weather played ball like a pro. It was a great way to round off the quarter's entertainment.
One week later I happened to run across part of the same group celebrating Earth Hour on ukulele in Civic Square. They do a fun, high-energy live performance and are great to listen to. Uke on, guys!
1. Hells Bells is my favourite AC/DC song because I can play the riff on ukulele.
2. The Fiesta has indirectly set me on the path to buying myself a decent wooden ukulele. Hooray!
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