Forget the weather, it's fine inside

By JOSIE McNAUGHT

The New Zealand International Arts Festival (to give it its full name) has livened things up in Wellington for 20 years. And while the performers come and go, and the bank balance goes up and down, there have been two reassuring constants: parking (the lack of it) and precipitation (too much of it).

Opening night on Friday did not disappoint on either count. We Wellingtonians are a tough bunch, and on a normal night out walking a few blocks to the theatre is normal. You have to allow extra time, of course, to rearrange windswept hair and discard your coat - essential clothing even in the capital's so-called summer.

After dumping the car closer to the Basin Reserve than the Opera House, and praising myself for leaving the heels at home, I skedaddled through the crowds in Courtenay Place and took my seat for 12 Angry Men.

Based on Reginald Rose's Pulitzer Prize-winning play and immortalised by Henry Fonda's famous film, 12 Angry Men takes us into the jury room at 5pm on a Friday, and we witness one juror, to the frustration of the 11 others, refusing to give a quick guilty verdict to a young delinquent accused of murdering his father.

The catch in this production is the 12 actors are all well-known comedians back in Britain. This was a little disconcerting for the audience, used to seeing the likes of Ian Coppinger hamming it up on Whose Line Is It Anyway? So the sarcastic jibes and lame jokes that the characters swap at the beginning, when it's 11 to one, were greeted with loud but inappropriate guffaws.

What was worth making a noise over was the intense and compelling performance from all the actors, and the brilliant script, which hasn't dated. Phil Nicols' (juror 10) explosive speech outlining his bitter, racist views had audience members near me commenting that Don Brash should see the show.

Near the end, as one by one each juror changes his verdict to not guilty, the oppressive heat is broken by an electrical storm and a deluge of rain. True to form, when we came out of the theatre the city was awash, and my umbrella was in the boot of my car, a mere 15 minutes away.

So I deserved a break and it arrived on Sunday evening. My destination - the waterfront, for Circa's world premiere of Spreading Out, Roger Hall's sequel to Middle Age Spread, and Brazilian music legend Gilberto Gil at the Events Centre on Queen's Wharf.

Spreading Out was vintage Hall and so was the audience - older, educated fans who probably saw the original production of Middle Age Spread. Just like the play's characters, they are concerned with retirement, their health, ungrateful adult children and growing grandchildren.

Hall didn't disappoint, providing plenty of laughs and poignant moments as the mistakes and anxieties of a generation were laid bare and, in some cases, put to rest.

The first half was a bit slow to get going, but once Dorothy McKegg, Grant Tilly, Ray Henwood and Jane Waddell had got a few pinots under their belt (courtesy of Tilly and McKegg's Wairarapa lifestyle grape patch) they were away. Having the original cast from Middle Age Spread available to do the sequel made it more realistic, as well.

With five minutes to spare before Gil hit the stage, I grabbed my coat and headed out into a balmy, still night and ran down to the waterfront, annoyed I couldn't appreciate this gift from the weather gods. My warm and breathless arrival was the perfect preparation needed for this Brazilian master of cool.

From the minute he set foot on stage we were in Rio, man. He didn't stop all night for his Bob Marley tribute concert, with a few scintillating Brazilian numbers thrown in.

The question isn't did I dance, it's did I sit? They were great seats, but after a couple of songs it seemed like a crime to stay put as Gil and his fantastic band wove their magical blend of reggae, samba and bossa nova. No Woman No Cry sung in English and Portuguese will never be the same, nor will The Girl from Ipanema, which came with a reggae beat.

Gil, aged 61, moved around the stage like a 20-year-old. Between making beautiful music, he is Brazil's Minister for Culture in Luiz Inacio da Silva's Government. He has also been imprisoned and exiled under previous authoritarian regimes in Brazil, for the musical movement he co-founded, Tropicalia, which criticised the regimes on political and moral levels.

I know the music doesn't sound different when you put his background in, but it gives him undeniable street cred. It also ensures a wide audience, many of whom could have escaped from Spreading Out. There was a healthy smattering of students, too.

In the end I was sweating and screaming with the best of them for more, more, more. Forget my parking woes, after this concert I could have sambaed home, no sweat.