Showing posts from September, 2015

My Son, My Hopes, My Fears

I was overcome with ecstasy at what I had birthed and yet my new found confidence was crumbling as the question dawned on me, would I be enough? It's been a year since I really wrote anything. For eight years I pushed out words, hour after hour, day after day, my world not caring whether my creativity flowed freely or not. Carving out new angles, splicing pithy phrases, I honed my craft. Then came my greatest ever creation and the enormity of this masterpiece snatched every ounce of my focus. August Lotter Kotuku. For once, words evaded me. How could I begin to translate the tide of emotions which overwhelmed me? As one predecessor so aptly wrote, it was though all my hopes and all my fears were suddenly in front of me. So greatly desired, this tiny picture of perfection awed me, his vulnerability ensnared me and his innocence frightened me. Who was I to carry this precious gift, this gargantuan responsibility? I was overcome with ecstasy at what I had birthed and

Review: Band of Magicians

James Galea, Adam Mada, Ben Hanlin and Brett Loudermilk How well do you trust your partner? Your daughter? Your brother's best friend? How about that guy three rows ahead of you, slightly to the left? Thanks to the mind-taunting stunts of the fabulous four that are the Band of Magicians, you will be eyeing everyone up with suspicion as you try and work out who's in on the act. Surely some audience members have been prepped to play into the hands of these clever tricksters. It's the only explanation for how the four could know the activity, place and famous person that three audience members were collectively thinking of. It's the only reason for British magician Ben Hanlin knowing which number one chosen audience member was thinking of. And how he managed to create a mind-blowing number of mathematical equations to match that answer – 73. Interestingly enough, my husband had that same number in his head. Was the audience lead into guessing that nu

Review: Waiting for Godot

"Nothing happens. Nobody comes and nobody goes." This pretty much summed up my experience of Waiting for Godot, the classic French and English tragicomedy adapted by Shoreside Theatre. A millennial child, I visit the theatre to gasp at a murder mystery, giggle at slapstick or marvel at a polished soliloquy. Rarely do I find politics or philosophy entertaining as much as I do disturbing or even boring. So the idea of an absurdist fiction that lamented on the purpose, or more to the point of this play, the purposelessness of life, sounded somewhat dreary and depressing. But for some reason I decided to give this 1940's Samuel Beckett play a go. Sitting in The PumpHouse's chilly new Coal Bunker Studio space, I'm actually glad I did. "Do you find it tedious? "I have been better entertained." One hour into watching two old men nattering about nothing, I admit I wanted to make a run for it. It wasn't the fault of the protagonist actors, Tr