BATS Theatre
August 23-September 1 | Reviewed by Melody Nixon

BOTH THEATRICALLY and in terms of dialogue this Ronald H. Morrison meets Barry Crump meets Lorae Parry piece is pure gold. Its celebration of local and national kiwi bush lore is worthy of the rugged greats, Crump and Morrison; its exploration of the gendered psyche and emotional repression is a Parry-like step in the right direction to counter the “post-colonial stiff upper lip chest out shoulders back bullshit” (in the words of writer Brian Hotter) that still plagues many an aspect of our culture.

Brian Hotter’s script offers thoughtful, deep and worthy reflection via the lives of three characters: Rob Harding, the white plumber in Wainuiomata (played by the versatile Jason Whyte); James Rapana, Rob’s mate and the local butcher (played by the consistent and comical Jamie McCaskill); and Donna Rapana, Rob’s lover and passionate, if adrift, artist (played with sympathy by Rapai Te Hau). Through the interactions of these three characters, and in particular through the pig hunting scenes of Rob and James, we gain a view into the mindset of the Kiwi Everyman who would rather put himself through tremendous pain than admit his own weakness; and who would rather push his nearest and dearest away than risk appearing vulnerable. These are themes reminiscent of Gavin McGibbon’s Stand Up Love, except when Hotter introduces a fatal illness into the script the complexities and attitudes this ethos creates are truly put to the test.

The interweaving of light contemporary comment and fact (such as the sculpture MP Trevor Mallard has commissioned Donna to make for “his Wainui”, or the visit to Te Papa Museum where the “real kiwis”, the everyday, feel uncomfortable and out of place and Rob “likes the super-bike”) adds well aimed elements of humour, anchors the play firmly in our present, and allows it to resonate with viewers of all walks of life – from the Wellington dwellers who have never made it over the hill into Wainui, to the residents of that town themselves.

Set by Brian King is also thoughtfully rendered, and a valuable contribution to the production. The carved half moons on the corrugated iron wall are reminiscent of Hotere, the artist the play most invokes. These half moons glow red at the revelation of Rob’s illness – the big ‘C’ – and the terror of this moment is greatly enhanced by the visual ‘C’ spelt out behind him. Lighting by Marcus McShane contributes strongly to this effect, and to the dark and tangled atmosphere of the later bush scenes.

Between Rob and Donna a real and believable chemistry is captured, both in script and acting. Rob responds to the fear of his illness with an alienating and agro staunchness – a delicate illumination of those aspects of emotional repression which perhaps cause the most pain. Donna reacts with her own kind of feminine staunchness, refusing to “turn on her man brain” and toughen up to Rob’s austerity. Whyte manages to maintain our compassion for Rob throughout this and despite his anger, his love for Donna is still apparent. Te Hau on the other hand lets her frustration show, and it is the frustration of so many women caught in similar struggles for emotion intimacy. While Donna’s staunchness is also fearsome at times, it is staunchness with a cause; she wants desperately to help Rob “cut the crap” and free himself from his fears.

The relationship between Rob and Donna does however highlight one difficult aspect of the production; it is often hard to tell how much time has passed between events in the script. While not always a problem, this obscurity does make it difficult to relate to certain scenes, such as the bitterness and aggression which suddenly arises between the couple when they go pig hunting together. As Rob’s confession of his illness has come only a scene or two earlier, it is not clear whether this fight is an immediate response to his confession, or the result of a long period of unhappiness. The unexpectedness of this fight does cause it to jar a little.

There are other scenes which utilise aggression as a tool for the characters for relate to one another, and this works well. The final, sour battle between Rob and James is both disturbing and heartbreaking. And the final scene is the most poignant and memorable of the night; suffice to say that it captures many of the hitherto alluded themes, and also that quote “The more I see of human nature the more I love my dogs,” printed in the programme. Pig Hunt is tender, hilarious, and Real; a brave and honest move by a talented production team.