Jack McGee
So do I like the size of Sweetie's hands? Yes! More or less! Here’s the premise, Stent and Hope-Higginson play two people (friends? They have some degree of prior relationship) competing in a series of competitions dictated by an unseen, robot voiced narrator. These competitions escalate in terms of absurdity as time goes on, as do the rewards the performers receive for winning: we begin with Calci-Yum, we end up with Bouquets of roses and DVDS of Julia Roberts movies. The whole thing is made to feel childish, with the characters existing somewhere between the ages of 8 and 35.
The competitions essentially serve as sketches. These can be simple, brief, cultural call-backs (the BEEP TEST!) or extended opportunities for Stent and Hope-Higginson to do character work, such as a scene from Romeo and Juliet where they both attempt to upstage each other, high school theatre style. I find these sketches to largely be the weakest part of the show. While there are plenty that land (the Romeo and Juliet scene for instance, is killer), a lot of them feel messy, overlaboured, and directionless. A scene where Stent and Hope-Higginson play competing private eyes is a notable miss for me, never quite proving its value beyond giving the two performers an opportunity to do crazy accents.
Yet, honestly, the sketches not being consistent doesn’t actually matter that much. Which might sound bizarre for a sketch show, but Sweeties has bigger things on its mind. In between the sketches, there are extended sections of victory and defeat. When a performer wins, they make their way to a podium and do a little victory dance - video game style. As this is happening, a child’s play tunnel suspended from the elevated stage door drops the prize, and we can watch the loser's reaction in the background. Over time, this escalates to reality-TV-esque post-game interviews, and little glimpses into the two characters' actual relationship.
It’s in these in between sections that a lot of the substance of Sweeties lies. This is a show that understands the joy of winning. While it delights in mocking how easily its characters can be won over by a certificate (You’re the bestest!), it fully captures the rush that comes with external validation. We laugh, but we know we’re no better than them, and that we’d let a Calci-Yum go to our head given the circumstances. Simultaneously, it captures the crushing frustration of losing - especially when the game is rigged, or unfair. There are nuances in here, as we see these two do the awkward dance of false modesty and resentment with one another. The personal conflict that escalates between the two characters, as they get pulled apart by this competition, is portrayed in two different ways. There’s a beautiful juxtaposition (admittedly questionably executed due to technical difficulties on opening night, but FRINGE!) between the self-seriousness in which the conflict is viewed internally, as opposed to how childish and petty it really is. Sweeties is remarkably good at making its point, without ever feeling like it’s preachy or excessively subtle. Competition turns us into stupid children wrestling on the mat.
As the challenges escalate, they also become increasingly vulgar and sexist. Sweeties, while broadly about competition at large, is more specifically concerned with how the world views women. With a swimsuit competition in the middle poking fun at child-beauty-contests, the show slowly creeps from “tallest” and “biggest hands” to “biggest tits” and “most fuckable” over the course of its run length. This commentary is particularly biting, as Sweeties is so consciously talking about the entertainment industry. It's difficult to see these insidious challenges later in the show and not think about the fact that performers are expected to still have their bust, hip, and waist measurements on their résumés. There’s an upsetting joke early in the show, where Hope-Higginson blames her inability to win the “being tallest” competition on her not trying hard enough. Soon after this, she begins winning, as if the system is rewarding her for buying into its bullshit and blaming herself. Sometimes there are few things as heart-breaking as being a “good loser”.
While Sweeties is universal, as mentioned, it’s particularly effective at commenting on the creative industries. There’s a very thorny metatextual aspect to this show, which would be disingenuous to ignore. Stent is one of Aotearoa’s more successful comics and performers, having found a home on TV as well as the stage, and it’s hard not to read the show as talking to some extent about her own success. To many in the audience at BATS, her career is the dream, something to be coveted, and it’s impressive that the show doesn’t feel in any way out of touch or condescending on the nature of success, especially as she plays the role of the show's ostensible loser.
Hope-Higginson is successful and acclaimed in her own right (she was in The Power of the Dog, colour me jealous), but she hasn’t been recognised to the same extent Stent has. Unlike her show partner, she doesn’t have a Wikipedia page. As a pair of Toi Whakaari grads who both seem to be of a similar age, it’s fascinating to see these two performers who have likely competed with one another (as we all do in the arts) dive head-first into that murky pond and play around. Look, I’m talking around it, but I’m sure I’m not alone in having to fight the urge to project baseless, gossipy, assumptions of the performers personal relationship onto the show. This, of course, only proves Sweetie's point. As audiences, we’re fixated on competition. We get just as caught up in the cycles of winning and losing, as the people stuck in them. We love to celebrate winners and tear them down. We see ourselves in losers and place ourselves above them. We give these systems their power.
I love that Sweeties isn’t content with criticising competition, instead finding moments to hint at genuine, low-key, human connection. There’s some sound cues throughout the show that dig away at these themes. I'm not 100% convinced of the execution of said cues, but I admire the ambition and the idea. The end of Sweeties however, fully lands. Quietly beautiful, it’s both a healthy dose of perspective and an act of radical mundanity. Take a breath everyone. Chill out.
Sweeties is on at BATS for the rest of the week. You can buy tickets here.