By FRANCIS TILL
Covert Theatre, central clearinghouse for improv comedy in Auckland, is running an extraordinary experiment: improvised drama.
Tales of War consists of three spontaneous first-person monologues about lives in World War II, all Kiwis: a war correspondent, a career soldier and a vicar's daughter.
The performers are assigned their roles
just before they go on stage and tell their stories extemporaneously in a rotation determined by the spotlight operator. There are no props, no costumes, no sound effects.
The performers stand side by side, each in front of a curtained door, and speak directly to the audience.
While some of the essential ingredients of improv are a natural fit for this project, the strain of telling a coherent story with three distinct threads is a risky enough venture to cause apprehension in any audience.
More, a rotating cast (six players, no set roles, three parts) ensures the risk is the same every time the performance is attempted: every night is opening night.
The performance on Wednesday night was good most of the time and brilliant in patches, but this may have absolutely nothing to do with what you encounter if you go. And you should.
Not theatre in any formal sense, these stories, like The Vagina Monologues, stand or fall on the strength of the telling. But, unlike the polished Monologues, these also rely on the intellectual fecundity of performers who write as they speak.
In a way, then, it's impossible to review the production meaningfully because beyond the basic structure, no performance can be repeated.
On Wednesday, Jason the war correspondent (Robert Charlton) kept his story entirely private, while Sarah the vicar's daughter (Lorraine MacDonald) and Michael the career soldier (Paul Paice) effectively allowed their stories to brush against one another toward the end of the production.
Each story contained deeply tragic elements - but that simply reflected the movement in play. On another night the production could just as easily present as a comedy. All that's certain is risk. On the night I saw, the risks paid off. Handsomely.
