Guy van Egmond
As we sink into the cold and early darkness of winter in Wellington, it’s easy to forget how revitalising a good show is. I wouldn’t so much say that Inverted Citizen’s Revel was a pick-me-up, more like a bolstering, golden elixir that settled, warm and sparkling, long after the final bows.
I was enjoying myself well before the show started, finding my way into the theatre like a true speakeasy. The entrance was hidden behind a hinged bookcase, which opened up to a little slice of the Moulin Rouge. The space was dressed with thick red curtains and a tungsten-bulb sign, while the stage itself was a working bar doing a steady trade as people filtered in.
This itself was a lovely space to sit in with a friend and a drink, amid the ambience of the preshow jazz quartet on stage. I was disappointed, however, to see my Manhattan be slung together and served on the rocks in a plastic glass. Nitpicky, maybe, but there would prove to be more moments like this that jarred as they poked through my expectations.
Expectations which were, I’ll admit, very high. Revel's marketing as ‘more than a show’ worked almost too well. The branding was rich and classy, the cast are some of the best performers in the city, and the romantic allusions to Paris and Berlin wooed my dreamy arts student heart. They’d even arranged a looming threat of authoritarianism and global conflict to escape from. But this wasn’t the KitKat Club and Wellington is not a major European capital that can support such a space on a whim.
Revel itself seemed to struggle with this dilemma too. Its cabaret structure was loosely tied together into a narrative show by a simple pantomime story that ultimately felt out of place, especially around the sheer quality of performance. It wanted to both be a club and tell a story about a club, getting in its own way on both accounts.
But this is a single flickering bulb in the brilliance of director/producer Jackson Cordery’s cabaret. The cast was an incredible set of performers who had us alternatingly laughing and whooping along, or silently tensed on the edge of our seats (or woofing at the striptease acts, in the case of the lady sitting behind us).
Adriana Calabrese served as our decadently-dressed host for the night, keeping the energy high between acts. Her constant vigour caused for a few trip-ups and breathy vocal performances, but she had a lovely rapport with the audience and her fellow cast members. I loved her jazzy rendition of The Spice Girls’ Wannabe, together with Brandy (Jared Pallesen) and Ginger Velour—the latter lip-syncing with a girthy cucumber as mic.
Pallesen was a vision of a 1920s diva and a gorgeous vocalist, using their impressive range to give a fresh take on classic tunes or twist contemporary songs like Everybody (yes, by the Backstreet Boys) to suit the jazz club aesthetic. A personal favourite was their rendition of Minnie the Moocher, with the same audience call-and-response as in The Blues Brothers, but rather more sex appeal. Ginger Velour’s burlesque performances were splendid; glittery and sultry, she blended the class of the ‘20s with the bawdy influence of Wellington drag. They were a delight to watch throughout the show, adding little gags and extra sparkles that livened up the background.
Also a joy was Robin Yablind, who made frequent cameos with ever more elaborate ways to try and steal the tip jar. In these scenes and their drag performances, he had a brilliant sense of rhythm and detail. As with the others, the way Robin kept their acts classy yet contemporary, with swing covers of Bad Guy and unapologetically-Pōneke drag work, kept the show really unique.
Timeless however, and never failing to impress, were the acrobatics of Matthias Goed and Nicole Maisey. I’ve waxed lyrical about Maisey’s aerial work before and we were treated to another ethereal hair-hang performance here. It was delightful to watch my friend’s jaw slowly sink to the floor, watching Maisey twirl like an angel above the stage. But, quietly, it was Matthias Goed’s balancing-board acts that had the room speechless. As Maisey teasingly brought him more and more cylinders to stack beneath him — until they formed a chest-high, twisting serpent that he would balance atop — the murmurs of “no way…” from the audience sank to a tense silence. After a flirty back-and-forth of one-upping each other with balancing acts, Maisey and Goed settled their differences with a flawless, two-person tower on the balancing board and the audience erupted with cheers and applause.
Revel was a 90-minute showcase of Wellington’s finest, and chomping at the bit to be so much more. Inverted Citizen’s long-term vision to create a complete performance institution, where the nexus of talent that Pōneke has can shine on a stage with all the trimmings, is a shining dream. But this is Pōneke, an already tiny city, whose arts industry is underfunded at that. Our Moulin Rouge will have to make do, for now.
That said, it was still a gorgeous escape; a chance for us antipodean folk to enjoy our own version of Western swank and glamour. I love that Revel already has the self-confidence of a cultural institution, stringing us all along in its vision of glitz and grandeur that will continue to build upon itself. It glowed with joy and warmth and absolutely has the potential to be “Wellington’s hottest night out.”
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
This itself was a lovely space to sit in with a friend and a drink, amid the ambience of the preshow jazz quartet on stage. I was disappointed, however, to see my Manhattan be slung together and served on the rocks in a plastic glass. Nitpicky, maybe, but there would prove to be more moments like this that jarred as they poked through my expectations.
Expectations which were, I’ll admit, very high. Revel's marketing as ‘more than a show’ worked almost too well. The branding was rich and classy, the cast are some of the best performers in the city, and the romantic allusions to Paris and Berlin wooed my dreamy arts student heart. They’d even arranged a looming threat of authoritarianism and global conflict to escape from. But this wasn’t the KitKat Club and Wellington is not a major European capital that can support such a space on a whim.
Revel itself seemed to struggle with this dilemma too. Its cabaret structure was loosely tied together into a narrative show by a simple pantomime story that ultimately felt out of place, especially around the sheer quality of performance. It wanted to both be a club and tell a story about a club, getting in its own way on both accounts.
But this is a single flickering bulb in the brilliance of director/producer Jackson Cordery’s cabaret. The cast was an incredible set of performers who had us alternatingly laughing and whooping along, or silently tensed on the edge of our seats (or woofing at the striptease acts, in the case of the lady sitting behind us).
Adriana Calabrese served as our decadently-dressed host for the night, keeping the energy high between acts. Her constant vigour caused for a few trip-ups and breathy vocal performances, but she had a lovely rapport with the audience and her fellow cast members. I loved her jazzy rendition of The Spice Girls’ Wannabe, together with Brandy (Jared Pallesen) and Ginger Velour—the latter lip-syncing with a girthy cucumber as mic.
Pallesen was a vision of a 1920s diva and a gorgeous vocalist, using their impressive range to give a fresh take on classic tunes or twist contemporary songs like Everybody (yes, by the Backstreet Boys) to suit the jazz club aesthetic. A personal favourite was their rendition of Minnie the Moocher, with the same audience call-and-response as in The Blues Brothers, but rather more sex appeal. Ginger Velour’s burlesque performances were splendid; glittery and sultry, she blended the class of the ‘20s with the bawdy influence of Wellington drag. They were a delight to watch throughout the show, adding little gags and extra sparkles that livened up the background.
Also a joy was Robin Yablind, who made frequent cameos with ever more elaborate ways to try and steal the tip jar. In these scenes and their drag performances, he had a brilliant sense of rhythm and detail. As with the others, the way Robin kept their acts classy yet contemporary, with swing covers of Bad Guy and unapologetically-Pōneke drag work, kept the show really unique.
Timeless however, and never failing to impress, were the acrobatics of Matthias Goed and Nicole Maisey. I’ve waxed lyrical about Maisey’s aerial work before and we were treated to another ethereal hair-hang performance here. It was delightful to watch my friend’s jaw slowly sink to the floor, watching Maisey twirl like an angel above the stage. But, quietly, it was Matthias Goed’s balancing-board acts that had the room speechless. As Maisey teasingly brought him more and more cylinders to stack beneath him — until they formed a chest-high, twisting serpent that he would balance atop — the murmurs of “no way…” from the audience sank to a tense silence. After a flirty back-and-forth of one-upping each other with balancing acts, Maisey and Goed settled their differences with a flawless, two-person tower on the balancing board and the audience erupted with cheers and applause.
Revel was a 90-minute showcase of Wellington’s finest, and chomping at the bit to be so much more. Inverted Citizen’s long-term vision to create a complete performance institution, where the nexus of talent that Pōneke has can shine on a stage with all the trimmings, is a shining dream. But this is Pōneke, an already tiny city, whose arts industry is underfunded at that. Our Moulin Rouge will have to make do, for now.
That said, it was still a gorgeous escape; a chance for us antipodean folk to enjoy our own version of Western swank and glamour. I love that Revel already has the self-confidence of a cultural institution, stringing us all along in its vision of glitz and grandeur that will continue to build upon itself. It glowed with joy and warmth and absolutely has the potential to be “Wellington’s hottest night out.”
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐