MASSIVE Issue 14: The Theatre Issue

Editor’s letterThe theater issue

Kia ora koutou,

We're thrilled to bring you a sparkling new issue on theatre, darling. Whether you're a limelight-loving thesp or a backstage babe, we have the perfect features, articles, and stories to add some razzle dazzle to these dark mid-winter days. We hope you enjoy our features about theatre mishaps, unusual musicals, Māori representation on stage, and the world of ballet. We also hope you enjoy some very juicy news from our dedicated (will do anything for a scoop) news team. Additionally, there are weekly favourites from Pocket and Girls Get Off for a giggle. We hope this issue inspires you to sing/dance/act ‘once more with feeling’. So, dust off those ballet shoes, do your warmups and get centre-stage for your copy of the nation's most spectacular student mag.

L x

What to look forward to

Course cuts and anchoring colleges leaves students and staff in the dark

Sammy Carter (she/her)

Massey refuses to say if staff will lose their jobs as new policies come to cut courses and anchor each subject to just one physical campus.

The university was consulting on the new Digital Plus policy which aims to anchor colleges to one physical campus with online study, unless it could be justified financially.

The No and Low Enrolment policy was being updated along with this, to make it easier and quicker for the university to shut down courses, qualifications, and specialisations.

Tertiary Education Union (TEU) Massey organiser Ben Schmidt said the university refused to say how many courses or jobs might be cut.

Neither did the policies specify if current students will have to move to a different campus if they wish to continue in-person study.

Nowhere in the policy did it state if staff will be made redundant or be relocated if these policies go ahead.

The draft policy procedures stated that an undergraduate qualification with less than 50 full time students per year would be considered low enrolment and be put on the chopping block with no consultation from staff or students.

For undergraduate courses, low was deemed to be less than 7.5 full-time students per offering for 100-level, less than 5 full-time students per offering for 200-level and less than 2.5 full-time students per offering for 300-level.

For a standalone Postgraduate Diploma or a standalone Master’s degree, low was deemed to be less than 15 full-time students per year.

The policy stated that a subgroup of the

Senior Leadership Team will make final decisions, students and staff were not included.

Schmidt said, “The staff who teach these programs, the students who learn in them, have to be a part of the decision making.”

“That is not the way to go, nor has the employer provided any clear or transparent information about what exactly the consequences would be of implementing this policy.”

With course cuts and anchoring colleges, Schmidt was deeply concerned that job cuts will increase.

He said staff were primarily told about the policies through the union, not by the university.

“Our members are still seeking clarity about what the consequences could be, that is not acceptable.”

He said staff were “unequivocally opposed to the proposed Digital Plus policy”. Staff from the humanities, social sciences, and sciences had contacted the union and were fearful their disciplines would not reach the required enrolment targets. The policies aim to save money; however, the Government announced an extra $128m funding boost for universities in June.

A Massey University spokesperson said, “It is normal for us at Te Kunenga ki Pūrehuroa Massey University to review our polices.”

They said the university had consulted with staff on both policies and will consider feedback before they are finalised.

“As the university continues to work towards a more financially sustainable future, we need to identify improvements so that we work more efficiently”.

The spokesperson said that Massey must continue to find ways to use taxpayer money wisely to ensure a sustainable future in our core areas of teaching, learning, and research.

To ensure the university has a sustainable future, the spokesperson said Massey focused on examining the university’s academic profile to reduce the proportion of courses, specialisations, and

programmes with low enrolment numbers. Massey attempted to pass the Digital Plus policy in 2020 but was met with backlash.

Te Tira Ahu Pae Māori president Ramairoa Tawera had concerns around the wording used in the No and Low Enrolment policy to cancel Māori-related courses.

The policy states, “In the context of our Te Tiriti o Waitangi commitments, programmes of significance for Māori will be carefully considered regarding the application of both this policy and the accompanying procedures.”

Tawera was concerned that it did not define what a course of significance to Māori was. The policy also stated that the relevant college can “consider and set out criteria” to improve enrolment, but it did not say how colleges can actively seek out students.

“It just seemed very vague,” said Tawera, “from Massey’s end it looks like they’re just saving.”

He felt the enrolment requirements were unfair for cultural classes as the population of Māori is smaller.

“Seven students might sound like very little for a course but for the Bachelor of Māori Visual Arts, that’s a whole year group.”

Te Tira Ahu Pae Pasifika president Aniva Feau agreed with Tawera, saying Māorirelated papers need a different system. She said there would never be a good time to phase into anchoring colleges.

“No matter when they make the change, there’s still gonna be people halfway through their degrees that are gonna have to up and leave and move around.”

“I can see how Massey would benefit from it, but it’s hard to see how current students are gonna benefit.”

She said cutting papers with solely a policy and no consultation with students could get messy.

She saw the value in many of Massey’s papers, “Aotearoa’s is the only place you can study Māori Agriculture… these papers with a twist that are really important”.

‘He

kicked

All Blacks captain kicks teenage pitch invader

Brett Kerr Laurie (he/him)

After beating Argentina 41‒12 in the Rugby Championship, All Blacks captain Sam Cane turned away from his team huddle to kick a boy running past, sending his shoe flying and face into the dirt.

Many in the rugby community have backed Cane kicking the boy, contrasting the response to a young pitch invader years ago who received a medal.

Charlie Line, at 14 years old, was gifted Sonny Bill Williams’ Rugby World Cup Winner’s Medal by the athlete, after the boy was tackled by field security 2015.

Williams was later awarded the 2015 Panathlon International Fair Play Award for aiding the pitch invader.

But in 2023, sports commentator Scotty Stevenson on TVNZ’s Breakfast said, “the kid got what he deserved, stop running on the field,” to a round of applause from others in the room.

He added, “kids are like rubber, they take a lot of punishment”, and “I reckon he

should’ve kicked him harder.”

The 2015 invader received a lot more sympathy, with many calling security’s treatment harsh on social media and commending Williams’ “wonderfully spontaneous gesture”.

“Why did security tackle him bloody rookies”, one commented on a 1News Facebook post.

Others commented he was “aggressively tackled” and the “guard went too far”. Sam Cane apologised on Instagram for his actions, “I am really sorry and am disappointed in myself”, and later said he video-called the teen on good terms.

Massive followers were torn over Cane’s actions, with a poll showing 44% of people thought Cane wasn’t justified.

Dr Trish Bradbury, programme director of Massey’s Bachelor of Sport Management, said, “it’s not something he should’ve done”, but acknowledged Cane couldn’t know the invaders age.

“It puts a shadow over the quality of the game, the excitement of winning,” Bradbury said.

“Here they are in a huddle, they’re pretty pleased with what they’ve just achieved, and then this happens - and that detracts from the sport itself.”

From the 2015 incident till now, the

difference in perceptions of these two young pitch-invaders makes little sense. One teen was rewarded and supported for invading the pitch, the other was kicked and verbally harassed by adults.

Richard Casutt, General Manager of Harbour Sport and lecturer at Massey University, said he didn’t condone Cane’s actions.

“The actual action of physical violence, kicking someone… is just not something you want to see in general by anyone, regardless of who it is or where it is.”

“The only way it would be possible, that it was maybe plausible, is if the person was attacking one of the players”.

Casutt acknowledged some pitch invaders have lethal intentions, such as one crowd member in 1993 who stabbed professional tennis player Monica Seles with a boning knife.

He said had someone intervened like Cane did, this stabbing could have been avoided. Former All Black and commentator, Jeff Williams, on Sky’s Breakdown said, “I would’ve liked him [Cane] to make one more tackle after the game, make a decent clean tackle.”

Similarly, former All Black Israel Dagg tweeted, “I would have done the same tbh ... maybe a lazy no arm shoulder!!”.

Zed Woodman, captain of Wellington’s Marist St Pats U85kg team, said Cane was in the wrong.

“In front of an Argentinian crowd, after demolishing them comprehensibly with points... kicking over this Argentinian boy right in front of everyone? I thought that was shocking.”

“Sam Cane, considering he’s our captain, he represents us and everything New Zealand is.”

Massive followers were torn over if Cane was justified in his actions

should’ve

him harder’:

Shakespeare is Dead, Decolonised Theatre is Alive: Sheilah Winn Festival

OPINION

Cameron McCausland-Taylor

In 2022, the theatre industry went ballistic over Creative New Zealand’s decision to decline funding for the Aotearoa secondary school Shakespeare Festival, commonly known as Sheilah Winn.

A Radio New Zealand article The Sheilah Winn saga: Much ado about funding, shared how one assessor of the application made them “question whether a singular focus on an Elizabethan playwright is most relevant for a decolonising Aotearoa in the 2020s and beyond”.

In my opinion, this is a fair enough question to pose, and prompted similar questions from others— why can’t our indigenous stories take the spotlight for once?

Of course, people decided to take the festival’s declined funding as an opportunity to jab at Māori and other minorities.

In an open letter, Terry Sheet said Creative New Zealand was over-emphasising “intrinsically New Zealand” art forms over others, that they were showing systemic bias against “non-Māori and Pākeha organisations”, and said they were an “artistic Taliban”.

Oh, Terry, your white privilege is absolutely stinking up the room. Creative New Zealand also received an onslaught of hate mail and comments that they were imposing “reverse racism”.

An article with the Guardian wrote how Dawn Sanders, CEO of the Shakespeare Globe Centre New Zealand, affirmed that a huge number of students within the festival were Māori, Pasifika, or belonged to other ethnic minorities, and many of these students adapted Shakespeare to their own culture.

But Dawn, darling, it’s still a Pākeha-led festival. We don’t see a Māori-led festival of this capacity, do we? And if a Māoriled festival showcasing Māori stories was declined funding, you best believe it wouldn’t receive the same kind of uproar or attention.

The festival is still happening, because of course it is— it’s Pākeha-led!

Performer Jordan Hōrana Henare (Ngāti Whātua Ōrākei) even points out how a lot of barriers for Māori theatre is that we are “essentially an impoverished demographic”.

We do not start off on the same level as these Pākeha organisations financially, yet they still love to claim reverse racism, artistic Taliban, and systemic bias. Systemic bias against Pākeha? You have GOT to be kidding me. Pick up any book about colonisation in Aotearoa, please, for the love of God.

Also, has anyone told these people going insane over Shakespeare that reverse racism isn’t real, or do they just enjoy being delusional?

Our people are CRYING out for more representation within Aotearoa’s theatre spaces.

In a Te Waha Nui article, Māori creatives call for better representation in theatre, Mark Wilson (Ngāti Tūwharetoa), playwright and co-producer of the show .co.nz, said “I’m tired of seeing the same old stuff in NZ theatres – unfortunately, some of that stuff gets bums on seats. You do your Shakespeare, your Agatha Christie, because ‘that’s theatre’… It’d be nice to see the local theatre down the road put on Purapurawhetu or The Pohutukawa Tree.” I absolutely tautoko our Māori students, and other non-Pākeha students, making Shakespeare their own and giving it their own cultural touch.

I also agree with Dawn that there are many universal themes to explore, such as the human psyche and misogyny. However, tāngata whenua and our pūrakau aren’t being heard in anywhere NEAR the same capacity as these stories from the land of the coloniser.

The fact that I heard more about Shakespeare in high school than Hone Kouka or Briar-Grace Smith is a tragedy, and I can’t turn back time to remedy it. But, moving forward, we have the chance to decolonise the theatre space for our rangatahi, both Māori and tauiwi.

If the Shakespeare festival can exist in such a huge capacity, there’s absolutely no reason why we shouldn’t receive the same support in showcasing our pūrakau.

Glossary:

Tautoko - support

Tāngata whenua - people of the land

Pūrakau - stories

Rangatahi - teenagers/young adults

Tauiwi - people who are not Māori

New series helps Massey film students find their feet in a toxic industry

Sammy Carter (she/her)

“We wanna be seen as equals on set and off set,” says Elizabeth Hodgson, Massey graduate and executive producer of Snap Shot Shorts.

New short film series, Snap Shot Shorts, is helping Massey film students jumpstart their career in what can be a toxic industry.

Last year’s Wellington student association co-president Hodgson said higher-ups in the film industry are often so experienced that they are desensitized to the positive culture young people are trying to bring into the industry.

“We’re mates now, we’re working together. I may have this fancy production title but in reality, I’m here just to learn as much as you are.”

The idea of Snap Shot Shorts was to release a short film each month which promotes a different crew, genre, and story.

“We’re tryna cover as many genres and show what we’re capable of rather than streamlining one genre or one approach.”

“And you’ll have something different to look forward to every month.”

Hodgson’s production company, Little Lizards Productions, along with Sailboat Films, wanted to create a safe and fun environment for all film makers.

Hodgson naturally wanted Massey students to be involved in the series, “How could I not share this experience with my fellow peers?”

The series had grown a community of over 100 film makers, with a large variety of people from different parts of the industry.

Massey University had also supported the series by lending gear to the crew.

Hodgson worked another job on top of the series, “This is my passion project, I dedicate all my free time to it.”

The series was volunteer-based, with any monetization going back into making more films.

AJ Johnston, 3rd year Massey Screen Arts student, said he found it hard to “find my footing” in the film industry, until Snap Shot Shorts. He said working in the film industry was about finding a balance of collaborating as equals, but also being aware of what your role is and what you have to bring.

“Pretentious people are a toxic thing in film.”

While filming their latest film, Date Crash, Johnston got to be lead lighting for the first time.

He said while he was nervous, it was a great experience, “Each time you do something you get better at it.”

He felt more confident going into creating his third-year film this semester.

“I’ve got to work with a bunch of amazing people.”

3rd year Massey Screen Arts student Anika Stonnell felt she was becoming part of a community which she could go to for help with other projects.

She said making a short film in just a day or two helped her learn quickly, “You’re thrown a lot of challenges and you figure out how to adapt to them quickly.”

She appreciated having other Massey students on the set who she’ll get to work with again in class. You can find Snap Shot Shorts’ released films, One September in the Windy City and Date Crash, and future films on Sailboat Films’ YouTube channel (youtube.com/ SailboatFilmsNZ).

Their next film, Why I Stopped Babysitting, will be out this August.

Snap Shot Shorts release a new short film every month. Photos / Supplied

Adapted for the stage

CONTENT WARNING: Brief mention of sexual violence

Musicals.

They’re bright, whimsical, a little silly (if we’re being honest), and the majority of songs are earworms which will burrow into your brain long after hearing them. I must admit, I used to dabble in musicals a little, and even now I find myself going back to them from time to time. I’ve even been in a few, though the less said about them the better. I am a former musical veteran, so you know I know my shit, mostly. I know that even the most serious musical is a tad silly at times. Something like Les Mis, for as emotional and touching as it is, is still a show where people speak-sing their thoughts on a giant round spinny thing for three hours. No shade to musicals or people who like them, but I think we can all agree there is a touch of silliness to even the most serious story when it’s chucked on stage for people to sing and dance to.

So, imagine my surprise when I found out The Colour Purple of all things had a musical adaptation, and a very beloved one at that.

For those who don’t know, The Colour Purple is a novel by Alice Walker about a fourteen-year-old girl who, after being sexually assaulted by a family member, narrates her story through letters written to God. I must admit, I have not read the story nor seen the film. I only have a base understanding of the themes and narrative, which is why I think my surprise upon finding out there is a musical adaptation was so understandable. I want to clarify; I am in no way judging the musical or saying it’s bad or should not have been made. I have never seen it or engaged in the source material; I am ignorant to it outside of the themes I knew it touched on.

To remedy this, I will be listening to some of the musical, reading the lyrics, seeing how a rather heavy narrative has

been adapted for a musical setting.

My initial impression of the music, through the song ‘Opening/Mysterious Ways’, with this song at least, is that it’s jazzy, vibrant, and soulful. Touches of gospel choir inspiration can be heard as well. From a purely musical standpoint, the singing and emotion in the cast’s voices are outstanding. From a storytelling position, the song manages to set up questions for those who don’t know the source material and confirm for those who do that this story is the one they know. For example, a line like the following -

I heard about that poor child Celie Already ruined two times! She only fourteen years old

Who da daddy? Who da daddy?... Nobody know

It does not tell you the circumstances of Celie’s pregnancy, but it also shows that the narrative has not been toned down for the stage. Compromises have not been made when adapting this piece.

I can’t do a song-by-song breakdown here, as much fun as that would be, but each piece tells the narrative in a tasteful, yet very entertaining and expressive manner. Musicals can sometimes fall into the trap of characters saying their emotions outright, instead of letting it show in what they’re saying. While there’s only so much context that can be obtained from listening instead of viewing, The Colour Purple is not falling into this trap. Themes like incest and abuse which are hard to tackle at the best of times are done in a tasteful manner here. Having this story told through a musical setting keeps the tone lighter than a novel or movie

could and entertaining in a way that a standard drama film could never be. If anything, the musical nature of the story makes these themes easier to handle. By not outright saying or showing the really awful stuff, alluding to and hinting at it as opposed to shoving it down the audiences’ throats, it makes the tough subject matter easier to consume while also giving the audience more room for interpretation.

From everything I’ve heard, The Colour Purple takes everything from the book and puts it on stage completely uncompromised from its source material, the way it should have been done.

I take back all my surprise at seeing there was a musical adaptation of this story. After thinking about it a lot, it’s really not surprising at all that a story of this nature has been adapted for this kind of media, however. While not in the same vein of heavy, a musical like Hamilton delves into real historical events, using the drama and violence of the American revolution as spectacle. Even in the realm of fiction we’ve seen these darker narratives appear –Heathers was literally about murders leading up to an attempted (and failed) bombing of a school. Les Mis is another historical piece about a very real failed revolution where many people lost their lives. Miss Saigon, while once again fictional, uses the final days of the Vietnam war as its background, and has a tragic ending which I won’t talk about here. Moving away from violence, Kinky Boots is a vibrant LGBTQIA+ musical about inclusivity, loving yourself, and accepting others, using topics along the lines of neglect for being queer and homophobia effectively to tell its story. These musicals don’t tone down the heavier subject matter. As bright and colourful as the musical stereotype is, they’re a genuine place for heartfelt, meaningful conversation and deep narrative. It honestly makes a lot of sense, storytelling through song and dance

has been a part of human culture from the day we arrived on this planet and, blinking, stepped into the sun. There are no reasons to be opposed to the adaptation of these narratives into a musical counterpoint. When looking at the way humans have told stories over the centuries, it makes sense that we would adapt these stories to music. It has to be done tastefully, of course, but that’s literally the same with everything. You wouldn’t turn such sensitive material into a film only to throw ridiculous quips and gags in, and it’s the same with stage adaptations.

Singing and dancing might seem like a strange medium for these heavier pieces of storytelling, but if you think about it, we’ve been telling darker stories that way for years. Before film, and before the more obtainable nature of books, the stage was the only way we could tell our stories. Even before the stage was a stage, humankind has been telling its history in a theatrical manner for decades. And if we’re going to tell these stories like this, as long as it’s tasteful while not compromising the original stories narratives and themes, what’s the issue?

Illustration by Eden Laing

The Mana of a Māori George Washington

By Cameron McCausland-Taylor

I was one of many who found themselves lucky enough to attend the Hamilton musical in Tāmaki Mākaurau earlier this year. Going into the show, I knew that Matu Ngaropo (Ngāi Tūhoe, Te Rarawa, and Ngāti Porou) was playing George Washington and I was beyond excited and proud to see one of my people showing their Māori excellence through such a renowned platform. A Māori man playing George Washington? What an incredible concept! However, I was not prepared for just how much Māoritanga Matu would inject into his performance; if you had any knowledge on Māori culture sitting in that audience, you could absolutely spot all of the wiri he popped in there.

After the closing night of Hamilton, Matu also posted an Instagram video of him as George Washington sharing a hongi with the character of Alexander Hamilton. His caption read “Hongi. The moment my tūpuna told me to go in.” This video was viewed over 76,000 times and accumulated a huge number of comments, with people sharing their kōrero on just how special and powerful this moment was to witness. Jason Arrow, the actor playing Alexander Hamilton, commented, “Tell you what, our ancestors must have been chatting cause I swear I knew it was coming, felt it in my whole body!”

I doubt that in his creation of the musical, Lin Manuel Miranda ever envisioned it in a Māori context. It is a truly American story to its core, re-purposed to show the diversity of America today. In an interview with Russell Baillie from The Listener, How Matu Ngaropo survived and thrived as George Washington in Hamilton musical, it was revealed that after watching the show in Brisbane, Lin even said himself “Well, it’s the first time I saw haka moves in the Battle of Yorktown.” Matu did more than just play the part; he completely made it his own and allowed our Māoritanga to shine within mainstream theatre. Māori representation, in my eyes, always means getting our stories out there and sharing them with our people and beyond. Matu’s stunning performance showed me that yes, sharing our stories is incredibly important. Nonetheless, so is having our people seize the opportunity to share our culture in these critically acclaimed spaces that have been Pākehadominated for far too long. In fact, a 2021 Radio New Zealand article Māori participation in arts well above national average shares the results of a Creative New Zealand report on Māori participation in the arts, with 80 percent attending or participating in an event in 2020-2021.

Mainstream theatre in Aotearoa is notorious for excluding and exploiting Māori culture. A bicultural landscape & Māori theatre resource, found on the Ministry of Education’s bilingual education portal Te Kete Ipurangi, gives a timeline of bicultural relations within Aotearoa theatre. The late 1800s saw overseas companies touring the motu, incorporating Māori characters in the usual tropes of warriors and maidens (because Māori only exist within these twodimensional cliches? Aueeee, have they never heard of nuance?). The 1920s and ‘30s don’t offer any pathway forward, with Aotearoa importing British plays and writing new plays in these British styles. Māori weren’t involved in theatre whatsoever, “just as they seemed to have no place in the post-colonial society that was emerging”.

In The Spinoff’s article, The NZ actors in two of the biggest stage shows on the planet, writer Sam Brooks shares how Hamilton rehearsals are “famously collaborative”, in comparison to the rigidity within most musicals that require actors to follow the same style and steps every time. This collaborative environment allows for Matu’s Māoritanga to thrive. Baillie’s interview also shared Matu’s feeling of responsibility in bringing Māori culture into the production. “I thought about what it meant to be a leader, what it means to be a rangatira, what it meant to be a leader of an army, and that is something in our history with the Māori Battalion and my links to the East Coast,” said Matu. “So, when you see the show, you’ll see a whole lot of nods to being Māori – not a way that takes over the storytelling, but punctuates it.”

As said in both the TKI resource and in Sam Brooks’ article, Matu’s performance in Hamilton empowered him to play the lead role in a genre that has notably shut our people out. “If you actually see yourself represented truthfully up there doing the thing that is the phenomenon, it’s so powerful,” said Matu. “That’s our responsibility, to deliver that, and represent that, because that’s the actual magic.”

Matu wasn’t the only Māori performer to take the stage, with Akina Edmonds (Ngāti Kahungunu) taking on the role of Angelica Schuyler. In Frances Morton’s article for Stuff, A chat with Akina Edmonds, the Kiwi star of Hamilton, she is asked if she sees any similarities between her and Angelica. “As a Kiwi and MāoriJapanese woman, we’re very good at keeping it staunch,” said Akina. “I’m the eldest of seven, and she’s the eldest. There are similarities, however I’m learning a lot from her strength and vulnerability and her grace.”

A few issues back, I wrote a piece called Disney In Te Reo Māori: It’s Bigger Than Words, discussing how translating Disney into te reo Māori was not just about the language, it was about the concepts behind the movies being translated. In my opinion, this is a similar ballpark. The Disney movies weren’t based in Māori culture and nor is Hamilton, but there are resemblances to draw on between the media and our Māoritanga. Matu draws on his whakapapa and Māori history related to the Māori Battalion, and Akina draws on her staunchness as a Māori-Japanese woman from Aotearoa, transforming a non-Māori story into a piece where us Māori can see ourselves within it.

Māori theatre as an art form was developed because of our exclusion from mainstream theatre, and I will most likely always be biased in that I favour Māori theatre over any other kind. Our pūrakau are so beautiful, can you blame me? Hei aha, I still believe that seeing our Māoritanga within mainstream theatre is an exciting moment to witness, helping to showcase our culture to a wider audience and show our people that anything is possible. Why shouldn’t we be able to perform in any show we desire and bring our personal touches into our performance? I don’t know about you, but I’d watch even the stuffiest, crustiest play if there was a Māori performer doing their thing and making it their own. Shoutout to Matu for switching up my perspective on theatre in the best way possible.

Glossary:

Māoritanga - Māori culture, Māori practices and beliefs, Māoriness, Māori way of life.

Wiri - trembling/shaking hands in kapa haka

Hongi - pressing noses in greeting

Tūpuna - ancestors

Kōrero - discussion, conversation, etc

Motu - country

Aue - heck! oh dear! - expression of astonishment or distress.

Rangatira - chief, leader, etc

Whakapapa - genealogy

Pūrakau - stories

Hei aha - nevertheless

Illustration by Annick Harvey

A Horror Show: From Behind the Curtain and into the Spotlight

By Molly Richards (she/her)

I must say my experience in the realm of theatre is limited at best, save for the odd few high school musicals. Cue the music! Let’s take a stroll down the rabbit hole of my high school theatre experience. As a preface, or an opening monologue if you will, I’m not a drama student, nor an actor. In fact, I’ve never been on stage in a musical per say, but we’ll get to that drama soon enough.

The annual high school musical seemed to be the ‘be all end all’ for the theatre kids, and fair enough. It was their time to shine, I can respect that. I, however, preferred to stay off the stage. Despite a decade-long ballet, hip-hop, and jazz background, my singing voice was hardly Tony award winning. Instead, I scurried around backstage. I worked makeup department, hair, costumes and finally mic leader. The latter lead to probably the most traumatising theatre experiences I now find comfort laughing about.

Not to delay the point, I will touch on my other roles before I get to the main event. Hair and make-up were stressful but, dare I say, a lot of fun. All the cast, many of them my friends, passed through the makeup chair every show night. I got to skip school, go to the afterparty, and chat all day before making over the cast in, let’s face it, nightmare inducing makeup. The overdrawn features under the stage lights made sense but the contour and eyebrows were a hilarious jump-scare in the daylight.

Costumes were even more chaotic. If someone misplaced their sparkly headband, the whole operation descended into madness before the relief of finding the offending headband seconds later on someone else’s head. Sure, it was chaos, but it produced many of my favourite high school experiences. I didn’t feel the looming pressure of going up on stage, I skipped the gruelling rehearsals, and I had no lines to learn. Certainly, a welcomed break from my ballet productions, it’s good to know what goes on behind the curtain.

Mic leader in my final year wasn’t quiet the experience I expected. I had to manage something I frankly had no experience managing. I had an assistant, a term I use loosely, that had less of a clue than me. All I had to do was make sure each cast member got their mic when they needed it, returned it when they didn’t, and change the batteries. Simple. That’s what I thought too, boy was I wrong.

It seems my meticulous schedule worked for the most part in ensuring everyone had a mic when necessary. What I didn’t consider was a faulty mic. That went down like a stone in water and once again chaos ensued. By the third night, I thought everything had been ironed out. I had managed to keep my assistant busy from annoying me every five seconds, and I stood side stage. It was the final party scene too, the big and sparkly dance number. Everyone backstage was watching from the wings to celebrate when the shit hit the fan.

The mic stopped mid-song. My friend who thankfully, despite this stunt, has remained my best friend (15 years this year), had her mic cut out mid-solo. The comms went nuts and the fear I felt in that moment isn’t something I ever want to experience again. I was going to have to go on stage. The tech guy came rushing up behind me with a replacement headset and handed it to me. Safe to say I was pissed. It was going so well. Five years I manged to stay off that stage just for this poetic buzzer beater to take me off the bench. The ordeal lasted max thirty seconds but frankly felt like a year.

I was well over it at that point. Much like the rest of the cast and crew, we were exhausted. My assistant wasn’t much help, my ears were ringing, and the show tunes had played a loop in my brain for weeks. That night I would be able to equally celebrate an achievement of survival and mourn the end of such a great experience. The show must go on, so I bit the bullet and stepped on stage. My face stormy and the all-black attire I wore stood in blaring contrast to the bright and sparkly scene on stage. I surely looked out of place, and I felt it. It was almost comical. Everyone kept dancing, my friend kept singing, and I tried not to look in the audience’s eyes. The lights blinded me, and I marched off. I swear you could have heard my heart thumping.

My friends backstage couldn’t help but laugh and at the time I couldn’t help laughing either. It was simultaneously the most traumatic and hilarious moment of my life. In hindsight, I should have sashayed or at least danced on with something, but all my dance experience flew out the window. I should have pretended I was meant to appear out of the wings, with some sort of comical slide. Play the role of some grumpy dancing witch character with the gift of sound. I don’t know, but it wasn’t the end of the world. In that moment I learned the hard way that the show must go on.

Illustration by Annick Harvey

Sexcapades

Yolo, don’t yolost

So, my boyfriend is a lad’s lad. He plays rugby, lives for the sesh, and genuinely believes Saturdays are for the boys. He’s the one you look at and think, “there’s not a chance he is into sex toys,” and you would be right.

If he was the boyfriend of any one of my friends, I would be telling them to dump his a** quicker than they could even get the words “but he’s really nice” out. The thing is though, my bf is really nice, and I wouldn’t ever dump him for his vibey flaw— if you would even call it that. However, in the essence of spice, YOLO-ing, and orgasms, I told him I want to turn our twosome into a threesome, and ménage à trois my way into second semester.

“It’s better to have yolo’d and yolost than to have never yolo’d at all!” I said, quoting an IG post, but not even that could push him into unknown territory. So, I accepted the fresh hell I was in and told my vibe it would just be us for a while longer. We didn’t speak about it again until a couple of weeks ago when I arrived at his flat only to instantly feel my sexy senses tingling. There was something in the air. Something saucy. He looked cute but I

could tell he was about to cause chaos, so, I buckled up, walked through the door, and got the best fright of my life. There she was in all her glory, sitting on his bed.

Sure, I’d stopped asking him if we could bring toys into the bedroom, but I wasn’t quiet about the fact I wanted to try out Tiff. She’s a majestic vibrator that I’d heard leaves you shaking so much you can’t even walk, and I don’t know about you but that really piqued my interest— and apparently, his interest, too.

After we both got comfortable with our new friend, the rest of the night was a blur of big-Os.

He was Neil Armstrong, I was the spaceship and together we saw stars, the moon, the entire bloody galaxy. It was the freakiest sex we’ve ever had. Safe to say we are both glad we yolo’d instead of yolost.

Solicited Advice

From Pocket

Solicited advice is a weekly column where Massive’s own four-legged Agony Aunty, Pocket, shares her wisdom and experience with you all. She speaks only truths.

Pocket, I’m doing theatre as one of my electives this term and I’m having a hard time with stage fright... is there anything you could recommend?

Hello, stage fright, what’s that? Remember hooman, thoughts become things. We can talk ourselves into or out of pretty much anything. It’s mind over matter as they say. Personally, I like to make positive af-furmations as I pass my reflection in the window each day. I say, “Hey there, cutie,” and, “nice soft fur!” It helps that all the hoomans of the student union say these things to me, too. Remember, you want to put your best paw, or should I say, foot, forwards when it comes to performance. I recommend oily fish for shiny fur, I mean hair, and maybe some mint sprigs after that, for nice breath. Remember in show business, appearances matter. Sorry to sound shallow. If you look like a cutie, you’ll feel like one too. They’re going to love you darling, just fake it ‘til you make it.

Do you have a question you’re dying to have answered? Massive Magazine on Instagram or editor@massivemagazine.org.nz and look out for next week’s issue - no question is too difficult for Pocket.

Aquarius Pisces Aries

Jan 20 - Feb 18

Aquarius, your quirkiness will be on full display. You’ll wear mismatched socks to a formal event and give a presentation on the benefits of eating ice cream for breakfast. Spoiler alert: You’ll be remembered as the person who truly embraced individuality.

Feb 19 - Mar 20

Pisces, your imagination will take you to places others can’t fathom. You’ll have conversations with inanimate objects and convince them to join your imaginary band. Spoiler alert: Your imagination might inspire those around you to be more creative.

Mar 21 - Apr 19

Aries, this week you’ll have the energy of a hyperactive squirrel on caffeine. Don’t be surprised if you start challenging your reflection to a staring contest. Spoiler alert: You’ll win.

Taurus Gemini Cancer

Apr 20 - May 20

Taurus, your stubbornness will reach legendary levels. You might find yourself arguing with a door, demanding it to open automatically. Spoiler alert: Doors don’t respond to stubbornness, but a doorknob does the trick.

May 21 - June 21

Gemini, your multi-tasking skills will be in full swing. You’ll have conversations with your pets in different accents while attempting to juggle oranges. Spoiler alert: Your pets won’t understand the accents, but they’ll enjoy the oranges.

June 22 - July 22

Cancer, your emotional rollercoaster will make the wildest theme park ride seem tame. You’ll cry during a romantic comedy and laugh uncontrollably during a horror movie. Spoiler alert: Your emotions will be the real entertainment.

Leo Virgo Libra

July 23 - Aug 22

Leo, this week you’ll have the confidence of a lion ready to roar. You’ll rock your pajamas to a fancy dinner and convince everyone it’s the latest fashion trend. Spoiler alert: You might start a new pajama-themed revolution.

Aug 23 - Sep 22

Virgo, your perfectionism will be off the charts. You’ll spend hours aligning the items on your desk, only to have a gust of wind mess it up. Spoiler alert: Nature doesn’t follow your organizational rules.

Scorpio Sagittarius

Oct 24 - Nov 21

Scorpio, your mysterious aura will make people believe you’re hiding the secrets of the universe. You’ll be asked for the meaning of life while waiting in line for coffee. Spoiler alert: Coffee is the real answer.

Nov 22 - Dec 21

Sagittarius, your wanderlust will be at an all-time high. You’ll consider living in a treehouse and starting a commune for adventurous souls. Spoiler alert: Make sure the treehouse has Wi-Fi before you commit.

Sep 23 - Oct 23

Libra, decision-making will be your greatest challenge this week. Choosing between pizza or sushi will feel like a life-or-death situation. Spoiler alert: Both options are delicious, so you can’t really go wrong.

Capricorn

Dec 22 - Jan 19

Capricorn, your determination will rival that of a mountain goat. You’ll climb the corporate ladder with such intensity that you might forget to enjoy the view. Spoiler alert: Pause and take a selfie on your way up.

Life behind barres: a ballet memoir

By Leila Lois (she/her)

I’ve danced since I can remember, yet my relationship with the ballet world has been checkered. I adore the romance of ballet, the connection with other dancers and the discipline it has given me, but I’m not a fan of the historical cultural imbalances it has engendered. These are not necessary or part of ballet as it has evolved in the past few decades; we need to embrace a new, inclusive understanding of the art form.

From Kanye’s “Runaway” to Taylor Swift’s “Shake it Off”, ballet is portrayed regularly in music videos, cinema, and shows up in the recent ‘ballet-core’ trend in fashion. There are several tropes that commonly sashay into pop culture when it comes to ballet, one is the ‘tortured ballerina’. Darren Aronofsky’s film Black Swan is a perfect example of the ‘ballet dancer as a tragic mess’ cliché. Struggling with an eating disorder, exploitative relationships, and bullying in ballet companies is something not far from the experiences of a few of my friends who went into élite level professional ballet. But it is not why we dance, and I fear these portrayals reify trauma. Ballet is a romantic art form as well as a physically demanding and visually stunning athletic practice. I’ll never forget at 13, when I was hung up on perfecting a travelling step (a cabriole), so anxious I was almost in tears, and the guest teacher took me aside, imploring me to remember why I started ballet in the first place—because I loved it. Since being a ballet teacher as an adult, I have kept this memory with me, and endeavour to bring out the joy in the people I teach, focussing on why they might want to dance in the first place. For self-expression and community, not competitiveness and self-critique, two things which are the thieves of joy.

Ballet is changing and more hopeful for ensuing generations than the myopic church hall ballet and élite conservatoire ballet I learned growing up. I was a darkskinned dancer in an era before diverse-looking ballerinas were celebrated. I can’t change this, but I can celebrate the pluralistic direction ballet is heading now.

Living beyond barres

Since studying postgraduate dance, my mind was opened to contemporary dance and away from ballet for a few years. I really enjoyed this extension in my understanding of what dance could look like and have since created choreographies and produced shows that have been staged in Wellington and Melbourne. While I still love ballet, the ‘classical western’ dance form - I’m going to RNZB’s Lightscapes, opening this week- I have had to open my mind and let go of my perfectionist traits in order to fall back in love with it afresh, after a period of disillusionment seeing friends struggling under the seemingly impossible expectations of company directors and mentors. In fact, this season of ballets from RNZB are contemporary bills, featuring female and Māori choreographers, showing more inclusivity than years past. Since the #MeToo movement and Black Lives Matter movement, the body conformism and bullying that used to be accepted in the ballet industry is working its way out towards a healthier celebration of diverse bodies and inclusion. There is still a fair way to go, but I feel happy now to teach and dance ballet and honour the enjoyment we can get out of it, without the pressure.

Keep dancing x

If you’d ever like to try ballet, feel free to drop me a line @leilaloisdances_ for tips.

Illustration by Annick Harvey

Written by Yesenia L. Pineda

14/07/2023

The twenties of adulthood can be filled with melodramas, morality plays, comedies, or tragedies, but that’s what the twenties are all about when you get to the foreground of your set. And believe me, I’ve had my fair share of theatrical performances to kick start my twenties in a way Shakespeare defines, “Oh it is to be!”

Your twenties can be suave, romantic, harmonious, serious, or even comedic depending on your outlook on life. Yet for me, it’s been well rounded in the form of ongoing performance that needs drastic set changes. It has drama, it has passion, it has comedy beyond squeezing your ribs for air. But it also has elements of tragedy, melancholy, and some oddity. My twenties have presented me with the elements of a theatrical performance of a lifetime. With a stage that continuously changes, I’ve seen beyond the velvet black curtains into the foreground holding all the actors as they practice and go through the emotions. Like a stage that keeps evolving to fit the dynamic of the story you have going on, and like a theater that continuously goes under development to accommodate the audience that comes in. Whether they stay for the intermission or silently leave without a glance towards the sopranos, adulthood plays the stories that it deems worthy of its running time.

I’ve had people leave during my intermission, some willingly and unwillingly, but as that scene ended another began with bits of a morality play. Scenes and scores made me question my foundation and grounding, yet it was the chorus and running time that made me go forward not backwards. Lines of dialogue, expressions, and gestures within my vivid and expressive performance made my life run through all the motions of birthing an adult. Witnessing death, birth, living through uncertainty, becoming the star of my family, pushed me into something that I never knew I could do or be ready for.

Yet, as the high notes hit and the peak comes into full swing with mics at the right setting, the senses become clear, and I noticed that life can be a mixture of all concession stand treats. While it’s all a groundbreaking show and the theater is full, the start of adulthood began with the introduction of a tragedy yet is in the process of becoming a comedy. While the show is just getting started for me and the audience in the premium box seating, the rest of the seats are filling with those who are coming in at the right time.

The Massive Team in their Theater Days