KEY POINTS:
Nothing fades faster than memories of a politician who came second, and three years on from Don Brash's ill-fated tilt for power it is strange to be reminded of issues that once blazed across front pages and inspired breathless TV commentaries.
Dean Parker's sharply scripted adaptation of Nicky
Hager's book presents the behind-the-scenes story of the 2005 election that was disclosed in a bundle of leaked emails that expose the shadowy underbelly of the National Party's campaign.
There are revealing accounts of the murky liaisons with members of the Exclusive Brethren and American policy advisers, though I couldn't help feeling that Brash's ham-fisted deceptions about these events pale in comparison with the sheer audacity of Hilary Clinton's recent "I mis-spoke".
In a similar way, the play makes a compelling case that Brash and his cronies deliberately concealed their extreme right-wing agenda and cynically exploited the populist appeal of various emotive issues. The indictment is well proven but remains resolutely partisan and avoids any suggestion that the Labour Party might use similar tactics to conceal a left-wing agenda. In fact, the Machiavellian intrigues of the party insiders are as old as democracy itself.
But beyond the documentary of recent events, The Hollow Men offers a moving human story that occupies the borderlands where comedy and tragedy mix.
Stephen Papps' portrayal of Don Brash has a wonderful Chaplinesque quality that is instantly appealing.
He hilariously captures the nerdy awkwardness that was probably the decisive factor in Brash's defeat, and New Zealand's most unlikely political leader comes across as a well-meaning clown who is relentlessly buffeted by forces that he cannot comprehend.
Jonathon Hendry's fast-paced direction brings together a strong cast, with Michael Keir Morrissey providing a down-to-earth foil to the wild enthusiasm of Brash's younger advisers played by Arthur Meek and Sam Snedden. Lyndee-Jane Rutherford and Adam Gardiner skilfully take on multiple roles with a variety of well-drawn character studies that include Ruth Richardson having a bad hair day and a spirited portrayal of Phil Goff barracking Brash during parliamentary question time.
The action is kicked along by Andrew McMillan's sound design, which makes effective use of the high-energy chords from Toy Love's classic Bring Down the Shades.
