WINNINGPRODUCTIONS

The Tauranga Arts Festival welcomes Winning Productions’ The Floating Theatre, written and directed by Stephen Bain, and performed by Jeremy Randerson and Jenny McArthur. 

Due to Tauranga’s very strong and potentially dangerous Spring winds, the Floating Theatre is moored on the grass outside Baycourt Theatre, instead of on the water: a small, white cube with the silhouette of a small stage and tiered scaffold seating inside. I’ll say now, we don’t lose a thing by not truly 'floating' (not that I can compare, but I can’t imagine this experience being better, it’s that good). In fact, I like that we get to imagine! 

From the second we line up to walk the ‘jetty’ this show invites us to make believe, play and have un-hushed fun. The boat’s captain (Jeremy Randerson) comes out in his life jacket and guides us all up onto the makeshift jetty, to hobble along carefully, avoiding falling into the (grassy) water. The audience is already giggling and playing, commenting how it reminds them of that game where you “dodge the lava”. 

The captain ushers us in and gets things ready on deck. I sit on a bright cushion on the floor at the very front, gazing upward. Captain subtly lets us know that we are not alone with him... there are odd things lurking. 

I have to mention, Randerson has the BEST laugh. His breathy giggle is so beautifully genuine that it gets the whole audience going. He does that contagious thing where someone tries to talk but can’t get the words out through their wheezing chuckle. I feel uplifted and wonderfully silly. 

There’s so much to be commented on and praised in this show; everything, in fact. But there are so many different jewels to talk about each one. The sound design by the talented Jeff Henderson, props by magically-minded Sarah-Jane Blake, lighting, and of course, performance, are all brilliant. One of the audience members walking out to her car comments to her friend that it reminded her of Monty Python in the sense that there are a series of small yet complete pieces. No need to try to piece them together with a story, because the feeling that runs throughout and beneath the whole show ties it together wordlessly anyway. 

I feel the same sense of awe and complete joy watching this show as I felt watching The Pianist by Thom Monckton during a previous Arts Festival. Sort of like an old-time, slightly menacing, slightly lonely display of bizarre behaviour that somehow makes total sense as it appeals to the bizarre creature we all have lurking under the surface. This show will join Monckton’s show in my vault of favourite theatre memories. 

Not only do I laugh a lot during this show, but there are moments where I feel actually very terrified! The masks. Oh the masks. I thought I was pretty hardy when it comes to doll or dummy-related things. Turns out I’m not at all. It’s a fun sense of horror though, the thrill is energizing. That’s how I feel about these non-blinking faces who are barking, staring, grunting, and trembling right in front of me. I hear a few yelps of “No no no!” each time these faces peer over the trapdoors. I like how the moments with these masks communicate to me the essence of what it feels to be ‘watched’ but without knowing the intention or the plan of the ‘watcher’. 

I also like how we get little interludes alone with our captain as he bustles about the stage (the deck), shy of us but wanting to keep us in the loop of what’s going on. He makes me think of a lonely, weather-beaten sea man with a life of unpredictability, danger and excitement as he wrangles with these bizarre inhabitants below the deck, who happen to be his friends too. 

The use of scale is very effective. At one point, a tiny diorama of the audience pops up, reflecting where we sit, and haunting us with the threat of scary visitors. Another piece shows a downsized proscenium arch, with a rope-entangled ballerina towering over like a giant from a dark fairy tale. 

Another moment (among all moments) when Jenny McArthur displays her talent which makes it hard to look away from her for a second. Such a small space with such large energy, encompassing sound, and looming characters works so well; sensory over-load in the best way. 

A truly amazing example of mimicry and physical skill involves a large baby... I don’t want to give it all away but Jenny McArthur is completely awesome. She’s so good, in fact, that my initial horror at seeing a giant baby gives way to warmth, as the innocence and endearingly-determined movements of pre-walking babies is so spot on. 

One of the things I love most about this show is that I can simply feel, react, and just be there, letting the sights, sounds, smells, tastes and feelings (a slinky kraken from the deep gives me a grape and graces me with a peacock feather) come to me. 

That’s not to say that this show doesn’t get the brain turning, it absolutely does, but in a wondrous, awe-inspiring, childlike way. The show feels very inclusive in this sense. It would be interesting to interview everyone in the audience to see how this show made them feel, and what it made them think, because the answers would be extremely varied I feel! 

Leaving this show I feel really ... refreshed. No, that’s not quite the word ... Inspired? Yes, but there’s more. Let’s just say I feel a mixture of all kinds of wonderful, hopeful things. I can’t quite say why or how this show makes me feel like this, but perhaps it’s something to do with the fact that we all need to be reminded that playing, silliness, shock, awe and a big dose of unbridled imagination are just as crucial to the enrichment of life than anything else we might deem more ‘serious’. To me, this is as serious as it gets: seriously good, feel-provoking theatre. 

I giggle, I gasp, I get scared, I wonder, I love it.