Theatre Review: Another Mammal by Jo Randerson

This is review, by Jessie Moss, is of the 8 May production of Another Mammal, a play by Jo Randerson, directed by Jane Yonge. Another Mammal is currently playing at Circa Theatre until 29 May.

 
unnamed (1).jpg
 

Another Mammal opens with a scene that we can all feel, at the least, familiar with. A table and two chairs, a tea trolley, exposed timber and a lace lined window. There is a sense of foreboding as the first song of a stellar local soundtrack begins. 

Over haunting and spacious kick and bass, Reb Fountain sings ‘Changes, I made some changes for the fickle and the wildin' ones. I don't wanna stand here and talk like this. Like it if you want to, like it if you want to, you can have it’. 

And with that, the scene is set. The only scene, of sorts. As they meet and engage over a dining table, ‘Y’ and ‘Z’, hilariously performed by Anya Tate-Manning and Natano Keni, are invited to try again and again. Ambiguous and relatable, Y and Z could be anyone, or anything. Two sides in relationship with each other, attempting to understand, to create and move together. In a tussle for control or domination, or in search of acknowledgement and understanding. 

The day before opening night, Another Mammal writer, Jo Randerson, went through the very British, formal process of receiving her New Zealand Order of Merit for services to the Arts, an honour well earned. This medal, laden with societal values and colonial symbolism, no doubt prompts further questioning for Randerson of what it is and how it is, that we celebrate and hold true as groups of people. A known firebrand, Randerson’s work routinely exposes and engages with the murky lines of contradiction that individualism, collectivism and nationalism hold. Whether it is patriarchy, white supremacy, colonisation or all of them, Another Mammal uses the metaphor of intimate relationships to explore them all.

Another Mammal was set to open in 2020, and the Covid pause provided time to incorporate even more current themes into this work. For the privileged among us, the presence and implications of national borders may feel sudden and brutal, whereas for the many, borders have long been erected, with spaces, places, flags and systems imposed over our own. 

As Y and  Z fire verbal grenades at each other, the stage manager, in plain sight, watches and enables. She stands, poised, waiting for the inevitable, time and time again. Bang! Just at the moment where true learning and understanding could take place, the conversation is blown apart.

Stage Manager Erina Daniels cleverly inhabits the parts of ourselves we may not want to identify with. The lurkers, the knowers, the enablers, the do nothing about it-ers. As well as those we are most proud of, the rescuers, the through-thick-and-thin-always-there friends, the negotiators. As the conversation intensifies in complexity, the stage manager's involvement increases. Each time we see more of ourselves and the societies and systems we create together.

Each iteration of the conversation, mundane in itself, offers new layers to explore. The familiarity of their arguments and discussions seemed to hit a sensitive chord with the audience. A visceral acknowledgement of these deeply personal, yet entirely universal truths are obviously exposing. In silent recognition, people shift in their seats awkwardly only to be rescued by the next round of laughs or another Bang!

Speaking on RNZ, Randerson explains her longtime interest in how we interact when we meet each other. ‘Do we seek to get the upper hand?’ She asks how we can engage ‘not using power to try and overcome. When humans get power we seem to like it and we want to hang on to it, right now power is shifting and changing ... Anything can change at any moment, we can make new steps at any moment in the ways that we choose to relate.’ 

Entitlement is greeted by appeasement. Obliviousness by sheer rage and frustration. Misunderstandings and intergenerational experiences of loss are thrashed out as the egos take control. ‘You don’t know who I am, you don’t know where I come from’, shouts Z, while quietly in the background, three ‘Wolf-Apes’ appear from time to time. 

Are they reminders of our pasts, of our realities as mere mammals or a connection to our true selves and vulnerabilities? These creatures are equal parts disturbing and lovable. Peter Burman, Sean Millward and Waitahi Aniwaniwa bring the weird and wonderful that Randerson is loved for. Ever present, yet just beyond the veil, the ‘Wolf-Apes’ remind us to consider the long game and our own subconsciousness. 

In all, Another Mammal deftly encapsulates our collective and individual needs for acknowledgement and influence, and importantly our constant struggles for a better way forward. 

Jane Yonge is to be congratulated for this first interpretation of the play. And it is no mean feat. Written with lines that anyone can play, there were no character backstories per se for Yonge to lean on. It is exciting to know that each performance will be different as anyone could be Y and Z, yet as nothing and no one is an island, the nuances that are bought into Another Mammal will change as the performers do. 

On our luck of being an island nation in the current climate, Randerson says ‘We are small enough to have conversations ... lots of things are great here but we’ve got massive problems, gross injustices are still occurring here but it feels like there is a conversation that means it's shifting as well. So it’s this interesting thing of consciousness of what needs to change but also some sense of hope. But it has to be balanced with actual work, practical action. Not just a blind hope that we are going to be ok.’ 

Be reminded that we can change direction. That we have every opportunity to do things differently. May Another Mammal serve as a reminder that while we have every right to focus inward and directly in front of us, we must always use this knowledge when looking outward and that there is no change without action.   

Another Mammal, 8 – 29 May at Circa Theatre

Tues – Sat 7.30pm, Sun 4.30pm

$25 – $52 

Runtime: 60mins

Please note: ‘Another Mammal’ contains sudden loud noises and the use of prop guns. 

Jessie Moss

Jessie Moss is a teacher, writer, musician and Te Reo Māori enthusiast. Focusing on music, gender, disability discourse and how Pākehā are and interact in Te Ao Māori. She spends her time reading, thinking and writing about society, our histories and how we live today.

Instagram: @lockemossmonster
https://thespinoff.co.nz/author/jessie-moss/

Previous
Previous

On how to write too much

Next
Next

Shitfight