Le Sud effectively punctures New Zealand's politically correct pieties. Photo / Natalie Slade
by Paul Simei-Barton
Auckland Theatre Company's season opener explodes with the jaunty impudence of a jack-in-the-box as it bounces around the alternative reality of a South Island that was colonised by the French, leaving our Anglo-Saxon forebears to make do with the North.
In the anarchic imagination of playwright Dave
Armstrong this historical "what if" throws up the delightfully absurd image of French poodles trained as sheep dogs, with some predictable jibes about a local cuisine sans Watties tomato sauce and the truly horrifying realisation Dan Cartier wouldn't be playing for the All Blacks.
When a suitably gormless delegation of northerners arrive at an opulent chateau on the shores of Lake Wanaka the encounter offers a fresh perspective on recent New Zealand politics - with the Francophone party utterly bewildered by a country that outlaws cigarettes and spanking at the same time as it legalises prostitution.
The sharply drawn characters embody a range of pantomime stereotypes but each one is enlivened by idiosyncratic traits that are seized on with relish by a superb cast.
Michael Lawrence brings a wonderfully deranged quality to his portrayal of a stolid meat-and-potatoes Kiwi PM who succumbs to hilarious outbursts of suppressed passion as he is tutored in the art of seduction by his French counterpart.
George Henare skilfully carries off the quick-fire mutations of a mercurial shape-shifter who transforms himself from French sophisticate, to corporate deal maker, to cuzzie-bro raconteur or mystical exponent of Maori spirituality as the situation demands.
Jennifer Ward-Lealand is so convincing as the ball-breaking, power-dressing Minister of Energy that she brings the house down when she theatrically reveals the torment of a dangerously suppressed secret identity.
The play draws on the elaborate plotting of traditional farce but Armstrong's unwillingness to pass up any opportunity for topical satire means the running time is about 20 minutes too long and the deftly constructed climax is almost derailed by a contrivance that delivers some smart one-liners on global politics but is completely out of sync with the rest of the play.
But, on balance, Le Sud serves up a thoroughly amusing entertainment that effectively punctures the politically correct pieties so ingrained in our national psyche.
