Corey Spence
Promotional Image for Lads on the Island
Lads on the Island, written by Sam Brooks and directed by Nī Dekkers-Reihana, “very loosely inspired” by Shakespeare’s The Tempest, has sailed its way into Circa Theatre this past weekend. As we walk into Circa Two, an island with an array of objects (including a bong and a traffic cone) and a mini-fridge sit centre stage surrounded by a backdrop of thin, silvery-grey curtains. My immediate thought is, when you slap a Wellington student flat on an island in the middle of presumably nowhere, and the effect has us curious: what will transpire there? Who will visit the island? It’s not long before the audience settles and fog fills the theatre; Prospero’s storm has begun.
What the audience embarks on during the 75-minute run-time is a story of friendship. Down after a recent break-up, Prospero (Finley Hughes) summons Ariel (Reon Bell) to an island and binds him there, forcing Ariel to stay with his best friend during his time of need, but over Ariel’s stay, the friends are forced to interact with ancillary characters (all played by Bronwyn Ensor) that ask the characters to reflect, think, or do. Lads on the Island speaks to how we treat the various relationships in our lives: friends, loved ones, and ourselves. And this is all beautifully presented in a production flowing with talent – on and off stage.
Brooks’ clever script is a testament to his craft. He blends a bit of Shakespeare in with contemporary tongue and neither stands out in a strange, forced manner. The dialogue is so effortlessly natural and nuanced that for essentially the whole play, we watch Prospero and Ariel try to air out each others’ feelings (and, at times, their own). Pacing also works in the production’s favour. The play oscillates between swelling seas and smooth sailing, which makes the action – and conversations – exciting for the audience to follow. One minute there’s a heart-to-heart going on, and the next, they’re bouncing around the stage in a beer-induced dance party. Both extremes feel earned. Brooks gives the cast and director so much richness to work with.
Before I go any further, I need to compliment Dekkers-Reihana for their direction. The script, with its blend of banter and Shakespeare, its sudden shifts in pace, its balance between the characters in (metaphoric) calm waters and raging storms, might not be easy navigation. But in their hands, Dekkers-Reihana masterfully weaves these elements, charting a course for their cast (and the audience) to follow the journey without missing a beat. Aided by the script, some of my favourite moments between Prospero and Ariel have a stichomythic quality to them, with lines bursting from characters like strikes of lightning, back and forth. Whether it be the friendly jabs or the reminders of platonic love, it’s electric. Every performer is also perfectly clear on the rules of the island, meaning the illusion is never broken. One example being the ‘forcefield’ (and I won’t give away any more). The result is a tight production, full of excitement, with moments of thoughtful reflection.
In their director’s deft hands, the talent of our performers – Finley Hughes, Reon Bell, and Bronwyn Ensor – shines. Hughes and Bell as Prospero and Ariel respectively add a dynamism to the stage that hits all the beats satisfyingly. In particular, I appreciate how cleanly the pair can shift between joyous rompings (like their musical numbers) and witty banter (like you’d expect from good best friends who take jabs at each other) to moments of hard truths and sharing how they feel they are being treated by the world, by their lovers, and by each other. Most tender is the refrain ‘Love you’ – frequently met with the same in return. I always believe their platonic chemistry.
Ensor excels in the challenging task of shifting characters. She takes to the stage once as each of Miranda (Prospero’s sister), Sebastian (Ariel’s boyfriend), Sycorax (Ariel’s almighty mother), and Fern (Prospero’s ex-girlfriend). While the separation is certainly established by Unctie Nī’s costume design, it is how well Ensor embodies each with different posture, movement, weight, and speed that helps her stand out across these characters – and shows off her acting prowess. Sycorax is my personal favourite, and while all of her characters are individuals, Sycorax stands out through utter contrast (her dripping in jewels and the stylish black dress she dons certainly help). Power, confidence, and control permeate the stage as she visits the boys and demands to know the full story from Prospero.
One of the most astonishing parts of this production is the stage magic. Prospero and Ariel pull flowers from their bodies, beer magically regenerates in the mini-fridge, the components for onion dip fall from the ceiling or rise from beneath the stage. In the world of the play, this is the magic some of the characters are capable of, but the real magic is in how fluid and smooth these moments are; the audience doesn’t see them coming, and I feel wonder every time it happens. There is something truly special about how well the technical elements work together. The coalescence of these elements – the smoke and the cool blue/green/purple tones in the lighting, the blending of eerie soundscapes at the surreal moments and bursts of acoustic and pop songs at others, the hidden lights in objects on the stage, the way the stage can eject plinths at the whim of Ensor’s Sycorax – is spectacular. The set (Lucas Neal), light and special effects (Michael Trigg), and sound and music (Matt Asunder) are best friends in Lads on the Island. The stunning visual they grace the audience with accentuates the witty script and fabulous cast.
There is much to love about Lads on the Island. I think you weasel more out of the production the more familiar you are with its inspiration and the Bard himself, but the magic of theatre, the crisp performances, and the story that sits underneath it all – the “ode to friendship” Brooks promises – makes it well worth setting sail for this island.
Lads on the Island opened at Circa Theatre on Saturday 3 February and runs until Saturday 2 March. Visit the Circa Theatre website to book or find out more.