At the end of June, award-winning playwright and journalist Sam Brooks led a workshop on critical engagement at Auckland’s Basement Theatre. At just two hours long, it was brisk, but attendees absorbed and discussed concepts and strategies around engaging with and responding to theatre, and fundamental approaches to writing reviews. The workshop adds to a slowly growing network of initiatives to counter a small and struggling arts media landscape. Opportunities to develop into, and even be, a critic are scarce. With that in mind, The Big Idea has offered participants of Brooks’ workshop an opportunity to publish reviews.
Here is the second, by John Armstrong, a theatre researcher and teaching artist based in Te Whanganui-a-Tara. His work encompasses performance, education and critical writing. He also runs Theatre Research NZ on Substack and Instagram.
Let’s put it on the stage and find out
John Armstrong
The infinite monkey theorem was all Jamie Honey (playwright/director) needed as inspiration for Bigger Fish Theatre’s newest show Monkeyboard. The theory asks the question: if a monkey was set down at a keyboard with an infinite amount of time, could they eventually type the complete works of Shakespeare? The answer, according to mathematicians, is almost surely. The answer for Bigger Fish Theatre? Let’s put it on the stage and find out [insert monkey sound here].
Moving to Wellington recently has meant my choices of theatre viewing have felt almost random, not unlike a typewriter monkey. One of last week's picks was this show. Last year, Honey co-wrote The Last Crime at Te Auaha before the building's sad demise. By all accounts, Honey seems to have built on the skills he developed during his last production to put together Monkeyboard over a five-show season at Bats in July. I feel fortunate to have seen the performance and look forward to seeing more of their clever, ambitious work. I’ll certainly be making more random viewing choices moving forward.
The Infinite Monkey theorem is a deceptively simple premise for dramatic action that is juiced for all its worth. To Honey’s credit he also manages to fold in themes of A.I and free will. The company utilises elements of commedia dell'arte to drive a more physical approach to comedy, rather than relying solely on the text. Admittedly, I have a love/hate relationship with the art of the literary pun. ‘Shakes-a-pear’ was certainly justified in the text, but it can seem to lose its validity when the actors look at the audience in a ‘see what I did there?’ fashion. That being said, I was certainly in the minority, as the remainder of the audience cackled consistently at the Shakespearean puns.
In this dramatic take on the aforementioned theorem, our monkeys are grown in a test tube upstage left. This is how we first meet our hero Clive the Capuchin (Alannah Munn). After being thrown into the brightly covered office in an almost Severance-styled fashion, Clive quickly meets A.I Boltzmann (Tim Johnston) and co-workers Bongo (Joshua Lees) and Neil (Daniel Honey). As we’re introduced to each character, the absurd comedy we’re about to enjoy is established. Not only are the stakes ridiculous (each monkey has essentially been assigned to office purgatory) but each actor delivers on whimsy via their well defined characterisations.
Overall, the actor's approach to the text is commendable. Masks can be something of a double edged sword in that the audience can lose the character if specific techniques aren’t already engrained in the actor’s body. At times this was the fate of the cast, but several stand out moments demonstrated that mask could be a great choice if the commedia approach is a continued choice in later developments. I particularly enjoyed Lee’s work with the Orangutan character Bongo. The intuitive comedic timing and physical commitment to slipping on a banana peel twice in a row was sublime. This paired with a convincing grumpy monkey voice had me chuckling constantly. Shout out also to Daniel Honey’s delivery of monologue as Neil at the midpoint of the play, I’d never imagined a melodramatic delivery of Five Little Monkeys making me cry and laugh simultaneously. Alanah Munn delivered what is arguably the most difficult role in the play, given that Clive’s actions drive the narrative. Munn consistently kept the pace even and direction clear in the midst of an otherwise anarchic world.
Between these characters we witness a well paced 60-minute chase sequence, filled with twists and turns along the way. Uptight Bongo is desperate to have Clive ejected from the workplace for touching his keyboard, whereas Clive and Neil simply want to find Clive a keyboard of their own. As time passes, our hero starts to notice the peculiarities of the office (such as a fake alligator). As Clive catches on, they begin to *nearly* quote Shakespeare. To be… Honest. To be… Frank. This chase sequence culminates in Bongo, Clive and Neil teaming up to defeat the real enemy, A.I Bozzman. A subsequent fight and smashing of the office is concluded as our unlikely heroes escape through a hole in the back wall into the jungle.
As exciting as this narrative is, the thoughts that linger with me from Monkeyboard exist in its theme of A.I and what this might look like in our future. On a wider lens, the production itself demonstrates a rigorous approach to the craft and a commitment to human-centred art. Bigger Fish Theatre can be incredibly proud of what I’m sure has been a labour of love for all involved. What Monkeyboard lacks in finesse, it makes up for in its humanness. The show is incredibly ambitious and at times misses the mark. This is what makes it incredible. I feel confident that all the components that make Monkeyboard special couldn’t be curated by a computer, even if it had a monkey and an infinite amount of time.
