Theatre Review: Transmission:Beta (Circa Theatre, Wellington, until June 15)

A review of the second Verbatim Play about New Zealand in Lockdown. A must-see. Directed by Miranda Harcourt and Stuart McKenzie, at Circa Theatre, Wellington, until June 15.

Transmission: Beta

Direction: Miranda Harcourt and Stuart McKenzie (written by Stuart McKenzie)

Circa Theatre; Circa One (May 18 – June 15)

In 2021 Stuart McKenzie and Miranda Harcourt debuted TRANSMISSION. As you can see by the way I titled my piece about it, I was enthusiastic:

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TRANSMISSION told the story of the decision to put New Zealand into Lockdown. In keeping with the tenets of a “Verbatim” play, the dialogue and monologues in the play were taken directly from interviews carried out over ZOOM and Skype, with actors performing the roles of Jacinda Ardern and Grant Robertson. And other key characters, including epidemiologist Michael Baker.

I loved TRANSMISSION, and if, in hindsight, it played out a bit like an ad for the Labour Government of the time, there can’t be the same luck in this sequel volume, Transmission: Beta.

It’s important to say that you don’t need to have seen the first volume of the play, it’s all recent history we lived through of course. But Transmission: Beta tells a new story, and starts with enough of a recap befor it picks up the thread in 2021, and moves through to 2023, its immediate focus the Auckland lockdown extension; its ultimate finding — Jacinda-mania was replaced by a rage that festered online, the pandemic being usurped by an “Infodemic” — misinformation becoming its own infectious disease.

Through interviews again with Jacinda, Grant, Michael Baker, and new players — including John Tamihere, Bernard Hickey, police officers dispatched to deal with the Parliament protests, and a range of antivax voices, Transmission: Beta updates the situation.

Sophie Hambleton returns to voice Ardern. This time Grant Robertson is played by Simon Leary. Nigel Collins, Carrie Green, and Sepelini Mua’au are our other players, with video-screen cameos from the real Michael Baker, and Rima Te Wiata playing herself. Each of the actors gives voice to the playright Stuart McKenzie, standing in for him in his role as the gatherer of the stories (interviewer). They also play parliament occupiers and online conspiracy theorists and there are walk-ons by Winston Churchill, TradeMe’s Sam Morgan, vaccine scientist Kjesten Wiig, and various police officers, protesters and other ‘voices’ in the story. The actors never change costumes or adorn props. This is a play of words. It was, in the end afterall, a war of words. A fight for survival.

McKenzie’s play-notes tell us this isn’t about taking sides, it’s about listening. And we are reminded, through essentially non-fiction theatre (of course it’s shaped, that is the role of any writer, producer, director, creator) that fear and challenging voices entered the mix at a near-dizzying rate; that our Government of the time was very much reacting in real time with a hope to save hearts and minds and bodies of the many, not just to save face politically.

But, via examination of growing online hatred, journalistic scepticism, and just the toll of weariness — the exhaustion plaguing us all, but most particularly the decision-makers in this nationwide process — McKenzie’s script puts us back in the moments when, however you personally felt, however you positioned yourself philosophically and/or politically, you felt ‘the turn’. There was a noticeable shift. There wasn’t one exact moment, but there was a time when the pile-ups and the distrust and the fear-turning-to-anger suddenly became too much.

The actors move through a clever ‘cinemascope’ screen, designed by Mark McEntryre. Pivoting panels open like doorways, like portals, and allow the players to come and go, to reappear as different characters, and then for projections of names and titles for clarification to appear. And for video footage of the real Jacinda Ardern giving speeches, of footage from the lawns of Parliament; those old 1pm standups and the various reminders and updates. It’s all history already. It was only yesterday. Sometimes it feels like ten years ago instead of two, or four.

This would all be interesting, and worthwhile, but Transmission: Beta truly succeeds because of the craft of storytelling, and in particular the masterstroke this time is to not just hear from the scientists and politicians. It’s the dissenting voices that allow us to feel not just the fury, but the emergence of fully humanised politicians as a result. The waves of anger and fear washing over the stony faces, yes there are polished speeches from politicians doing their jobs, but we can feel the cracks starting to show. We can see new shapes to characters as the words of others and the pressure of time mount.

Crucially, Bernard Hickey’s character shows us how intellient people can take issue, but also find the humanity in the situation.

None of this would work as well without the incredible team effort of amazing actors, and the vision of the directors, the trust flowing back and forth between all players in the creative team.

It’s heartening, and heartbreaking watching this play. There are moments of humour and utter exasperation. There’s a hypnotic tension to it all. And Rhian Sheehan’s subtly pervasive score puts us right in the scene — and helps to keep us there.

And though I am struggling to put it all into words — for worry of spoiling the thrill and experience of seeing it and feeling it - this is primal, beautiful must-see, have-to-feel theatre. This is why you go. This is what you hope to experience. That is real, that it is ‘our’ story, part of the fabric now of the country. Well, that’s both tremendously sad, and hugely uplifting.