Introducing the Young Critics and their first reviews

One of the problems with a small and struggling arts media landscape is that opportunities for new critics to learn are scarce. Writing is one of those many things that require practice, feedback, and time to get good at – this generally means having an outlet to write for, an editor to help you, and other writers and readers to discuss ideas with. When these opportunities dry up, it's hard for a new generation of critics and arts writers to develop their skills. When the existing writers get old and retire, voila, good criticism goes with them. 

This is a problem that has been identified around the world as part of the wider crisis in arts criticism, and it isn’t unusual for organisations with a vested interest in maintaining public dialogue around the arts to actively try to counter it. Just this year two contemporary art galleries, Artspace Aotearoa and The Physics Room, are embarking on programmes to train cohorts of art writers. They follow in the footsteps of the Auckland Arts Festival, which this year has doubled its Young Critics Programme, “aiming to create a new generation of thoughtful reviewers”. Eight young (20–25-years-old) people are being mentored with the support of Indian Inks’ Next Gen programme and Massive Theatre. None of them have written a review before. 

This year’s Young Critics Programme started with a 90-minute workshop in late February. Now participants are perusing the Auckland Arts Festival and each reviewing a show. Today, and the next two Fridays, their reviews will be published here, on The Big Idea. 

This week we have reviews from:

Victoria Gancheva, who holds a Masters in Architecture, works part time as a researcher, and trains with The Actor's Programme in Tāmaki. She is an alumni of the Pop-up Globe's and Auckland Theatre Company's youth programmes, where she honed crafts of story-telling and audience engagement. Her background in architecture gives her an eye for design and set design, while a previous life as a competitive rhythmic gymnast, gives her an instinct for the physical and spacial aspects of theatre. 

Manunui Rainey has been looking for theatre that makes him 'go hundies'. After drama school, he was hooked into devised theatre work with Massive Theatre Company and has been a member of the Nui Ensemble ever since. He works as an actor and teaching artist and is now diving into the world of stage and screenwriting. With a knack for picking out the heart of a story, Manu's sure to craft work that hits audiences right where it counts. 

Sebastian Taylor loves physical theatre. They studied under Pedro Ilgenfritz at Unitec and have been moving their way through the Tāmaki theatre world ever since. Now in their third year with Massive Theatre Company, Sebastian also stays busy working as a technician behind the scenes of some of our biggest stages. Ever expanding their repertoire of talents, Sebastian is also training as a director and running their own playwriting group with other creatives.

Without further ado, here are their first-ever reviews.

By Victoria Gancheva 

I first encountered Strut & Fret during their last visit to the Auckland Arts Festival back in 2023 with Blanc De Blance Encore, a fizzing extravaganza packed with cheeky immersive sequences and sumptuous design that instantly made me a fan. Now the Australian company is back with its latest circus-cabaret, La Ronde, also conceived and directed by Scott Maident. Packaged in moments of drag, disco, fringe, striptease, and, of course, spandex, this is a more stripped back offering that’s still daring, a touch bawdier, and dazzling on the strength of its performers’ skill.  

 An international cast of seven performers (introduced by an enthusiastic disembodied Aussie voice) each take turns delighting you with their talents to the tune of various pop covers (Diana Ross, Kiss and James Brown, to name a few). It’s a raunchy, scantily clad circus smorgasbord that features—among other things—balancing, hoops, and a delicious, surprising assortment of aerial arts, though notably not the pole act advertised. The numbers are satisfyingly crafted to the music, teasing you with a coy look here and a suggestive twirl of the finger there, before sweeping you away with spins, contortions and whatever else, and building to a dizzying climax. The evening is punctuated by live songs (performed by singer Geniris) and clowning segments (Nate Cooper, excellently navigating a variety of unstable footwear while embroiling the front row in the chaos). The performers’ command of their respective crafts is genuinely impressive, and several show off multiple acts across the show. 

La Ronde is housed in the Spiegeltent, a travelling wooden structure that resides in Aotea Square until the Auckland Arts Festival’s end on the 22^nd of March. This traditional European circus tent is a wonderfully intimate space—with the audience surrounding the central circular platform, there is practically no bad view in the house. Harry O'Meara’s lighting did well to heighten the mood of each act, punching to the beat or bathing the room in colour. Using the giant disco ball as a dreamy, halo-like backdrop was a nice touch.  

The fire of the show is not always roaring evenly. It lulls between each performer, with utilitarian, rather empty transitions, though the show did warm up after the interval (and in a particular aerial act, quite literally!). The few group numbers interspersed throughout the evening often felt loosely structured; certain striking interactions between performers made me want more. The show’s main visual calling card—the disco ball—hangs enticingly as you enter the space, but it is cast aside for much of the show before its grand return at the end. The show shines brightest when it pairs its awe-inspiring athleticism with a willingness to bring in the audience as its co-conspirator and hype man. Highlights for me were Adam Malone (hoops, aerials) and Felipe Reyes (handstand canes, aerials), who excelled at bringing the audience onside with delightfully twinkling deliveries of their sets. 

La Ronde may not reach the same heights of some of Strut & Fret’s other creations. However, if there’s one thing this company knows how to do, it’s assemble a cast of incredibly talented, incredibly attractive people to make you gasp, giggle and blush while blasting a dramatic movie trailer-esque Destiny’s Child cover. With the show clocking in at 90 minutes including the interval, a visit to the Spiegeltent would make for a fun evening out, great for a date or girls night. And, who knows, you might even end up onstage… 

By Manunui Rainey 

By chance, the night before I saw the show I ran into the director, Nathaniel Lees. We briefly talked about the work, and while watching the show I remembered a question he had asked himself; how do you create a show about someone whose story is still going and is on the stage performing their own journey? 

Besides from a few clips, this is what I was coming into the show with. Was it going to be a speech? A biography? 

The musical score is composed by a good friend of mine’s father, Matuaitoga Posenai Mavaega, employing the talents of Meka Nehemia, Hayden Nickel, Andy Mauafua, and Isitolo Alesana. The music and acting ensemble with Pati, tells his story of disability and was a soothing, witty and heartbreaking journey, especially when certain moments really hit. I loved how the show structured Pati’s journey in such an interesting way, and I found the music was the strongest part. Pati picking up the bass was one of those moments that really hit, impacted by the multitude of chorus, Pasifika and Māori choreography and the beautiful star map that sat above the stage. It didn't click why it was there until it was explained in the ending, but I felt it worked great visually anyway.  

There were other moments where the ensemble lost momentum, but the cast of seasoned actors helped support each other as a whole. Mihi ana ki Mere Boynton, Paris Tuimaseve-Fox, Lavinia Lovo, Albert Latailakepa, and Faith Tou. I actually loved these moments where I could see a slip up, forgotten a line, or a piece of movement because that’s when I see the actors, their authentic selves, which they might not know is beautiful to watch.   

I had to admit that certain parts of dialogue felt like a Ted Talk. In those moments the story tried to tell the audience how Pati felt, rather than letting the words speak for themselves and trusting that the audience would receive, feel and interpret them. However, when they do let the words speak for themselves it really shifts and I begin to dream around them. Pati’s stories reminded me of how I would sit down and listen to my Nanny ramble about her life stories. All the things that made up her, I loved listening to.  

Even with some ups and downs, the message came through about Pati's battle with ableism, how much neglect the disabled community suffers and how much awhi the rest of us need to give in order to move forward. Changing these negative connotations and views people have of the disabled community was the heart of it. These comments are more on the theatrical elements rather than the content.  

When all the right beats are hit, cues marked, and the words are able to speak for themselves I can see the excellent potential of this show, and definitely a story worth telling.  

By Sebastian Taylor 

In the past, deeply touching shows like Auckland Theatre Company’s Tiri: Te Araroa have stuck in my head for days due to their emotional impact. But this is the first time I’ve had a show become a literal earworm. I found myself singing along to Herbs’ Nuclear Waste at work the day after watching Music Portrait of a Humble Disabled Samoan, while reminiscing on its incredible cast and story.  

Music Portrait of a Humble Disabled Samoan is a joyful celebration of music, of Pasifika excellence—and most importantly—disabled excellence; based on the true life story of the titular character and performer Fonotī Pati Umaga. Pati is the centre of the show, narratively and literally, as he commands centre-stage set in the round surrounded by the audience, a cast of five supporting actors, and four musicians. In a single word, Pati is magnanimous. Amidst a whirlwind of action, his presence emanates throughout the play; a presence that is coloured by wry wit and heartwarming vulnerability.   

The surrounding actors also play a version of Pati, imbuing him with their own qualities. The cast consists of Mere Boynton, Paris Tuimaseve-Fox, Lavinia Lovo, Albert Latailakepa, and Faith Tou; accompanied onstage by a talented band of musicians. Meka Nehemia on percussion, Hayden Nickel on violin, Andy Mauafua on guitar, and Isitolo Alesana on bass each move amongst the cast and contribute to the performance physically as well as musically. Live arts in Aotearoa aren’t foreign to wheelchair users, with dancer and wheelchair user Rodney Bell being recognized with critical acclaim both nationally and internationally for his choreography. It's no different in Music Portrait of a Humble Disabled Samoan, as wheelchair users Lavinia Lovo and Faith Tou steal the show for me. As a lover of physical theatre, seeing these actors performing highly choreographed work is an absolute pleasure. The most compelling moment for me involves elements of physiotherapy incorporated into the choreography as Pati journeys through his physical rehabilitation. I hope Music Portrait of a Humble Disabled Samoan is the first of many high production value shows that not only integrate, but spotlight disabled actors. 

The show is quite simple in its structure, following the events of Pati’s life chronologically, using narration interspersed with music for key moments. Some songs are performed by the cast, and others are recordings. Unsurprisingly, the live music is the most satisfying, as the musical talent on display is immense, from both the actors and band. The conflict of Pati’s journey through internalized ableism, anger, and the inconsistent standard of care in Aotearoa is touched on, however it isn’t the primary focus of the show; in the same way that despite being about Pati, it’s really about the people in his life. I had the privilege of attending a tech rehearsal prior to seeing the full show, and every actor remarked on how Pati brought them into the production through trust and established friendships. Interconnectedness and service to community are the Pasifika values strongly on display in Pati’s life story. In fact, it’s not only a story of these values, but an enactment of them.   

Music Portrait of a Humble Disabled Samoan will have a season in Wellington at Tāwhiri Warehouse from the 12th-15th of March, and I believe everyone should attend who wants to tautoko the talented disabled and Pasifika individuals featured both in the story and on the stage. Pati’s life story isn’t the story of a person, but a story of people.  

Next week more young critics will give their views of The Butterfly Who Flew Into The Rave, La Ronde, and A Place in the Sultan's Kitchen.