BATS Theatre
April 12-21 | Reviewed by Kate Blackhurst

IN THIS POWERFUL and moving piece of drama presented by the Wheelbarrow Group, Ronald Trifero Nelson directs a cast of eight young people to explore a seemingly pointless death and offer theatre as therapy. It contains violent content that may offend, and will certainly disturb, and notices in the foyer recommend counselling services to those who want to talk about issues raised by the performance.

In a true and horrific incident, a 14-year-old boy called Jeff was beaten to death on a side street in central Wellington early on the morning of 8th May 1999. The boot prints of his two assailants, Jason Meads and Steven Smith, were imprinted on his scalp. With his purple hair, green fingernails and facial piercings, perhaps Jeff was killed because he was gay, because he was on drugs or simply because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

By piecing together witness statements, police interviews and newspaper reports, the company attempts to uncover what happened that night. Much of the dialogue in the play derives from the actual words of the characters, such as the speeches of the principal of Wellington High School in which she informs her students she is proud of the way they handle their grief and the media. She says that all will grieve in their own way, and this play works through the stages of grief. There were tears on opening night as many of the audience members will have known this young man.

Everyone in the cast wears t-shirts and dark trousers, which allows them to play interchangeable roles. Characters of buskers, prostitutes, bartenders, police officers, tourists, and the milieu of people who frequent the town centre in the early hours are fleshed out, but no one actor plays the victim. There are three portrayals of the actions of Meads and Smith, based on interviews, anecdotal evidence, instinct, and their own account.

The mood ranges from affecting to horrifying throughout the play. A group of school friends sit together reminiscing about the good times with Jeff. As they recall special thoughts and share memories and intimate moments, it is a beautiful celebration of a creative life. The re-enactment of the killers laughing about what they’d done, calling the boy a faggot and saying they had never seen anyone bleeding out of the places he’d bled out of, is repulsive. So too is a witness recounting how the victim tried to stand but couldn’t and fell to his and knees, making a sound like a possum. The sound of bare feet stomping on the stage, knowing they represent Doc Martens kicking a body to death, is sickeningly graphic despite its minimalism, and is hard to cope with.

The play isn’t afraid to ask questions about blame and responsibility. There are many factors – the police who could have taken him home; the friends who left him behind; the bartenders who serve alcohol to minors; but above all, a society that seeks to destroy what it doesn’t understand. The priest at the funeral is accused of lecturing against drugs as though they were the cause of the death, when it was actually brutality. Early on we are asked to question our attitude to spiders – we kill them because we are bigger than them, but also because we are afraid of them. Is this a metaphor for the death of a flamboyant teenager who “expected to walk confidently into the future”?

There is a smattering of humour but a lot more anger and hate. The play even touches on the provocative aspect of the appeal of death with everyone wanting to claim association and gain reflective allure. It is confrontational from the beginning and risks alienating the audience by making them stand in a cold alleyway watching someone spraying graffiti on a wall, before leaving them to follow indoors and stranding them awkwardly on the stage, preventing them from sitting until directed.

The play is very local and there are many references which provoke knowing laughter, but would not work in a wider context. At one point, the Cuba Street fountain is discussed as a metaphor. It was meant to be a clock but it never worked, and now its dysfunctional eccentricity holds iconic status among the slightly surreal, melting pot of Cuba Street.

The plain set with props of wheelie bins and plastic recycling bins works well. The bins are used as everything from public bars and park benches to cars and a witness stand. The recycle motif suggests that something good can come out of this. If one person is encouraged to realise that they are not six foot tall and bullet-proof and to stay safe and look after their mates, then the healing process will be worth it.

Another highlight is the music – several songs were created especially for the show and are written and performed beautifully by Stewart Pedley and Romy Hooper. All of the actors do a splendid job of presenting this sensitive but shocking piece of theatre. They looked exhausted and emotional at the curtain call. Corner of 4am and Cuba must be a cathartic experience for all involved in its production.