The theatre production offers moments of brilliance and striking visuals, but its lack of emotional depth and cohesion leaves much to be desired.

There’s something disheartening about having high expectations but being left wanting more. I thought Ngā Rorirori would be great. My anticipation slowly built up over the days as opening night drew closer. With hopes of watching yet another enthralling piece of Māori theatre, we left the baby with Nan and Pop, venturing to Te Pou Theatre for a Thursday night date.

Reading about the show, I was expecting to be taken on an emotional rollercoaster, exploring issues like land loss, disconnection, and a journey to create change through the whenua. Unfortunately, the show left me feeling confused and not quite sure what the message behind it was. I appreciate the need to laugh at oneself, but the show felt like a not-so-funny mockery of Māoridom with a storyline that took an age to make any meaningful progression.

There were themes and characters I could relate to. A corrupt uncle who had returned to the marae, chasing glory and riches; an activist cousin, determined to see social justice for any and every cause; an overqualified relation, coming home after years in the urban abyss. Sadly, I never felt emotionally connected to any of them. Perhaps I wasn’t meant to.

Despite this, there were some bright spots. I couldn’t help but bop my head to the funky, futuristic hip-hop tunes composed by Maarire Brunning-Kouka, also known as MĀ. The set design, led by Mark McEntyre, was also good. Wooden trestle tables, silver teapots, and big brooms added a level of authenticity to the otherwise nondescript marae. There was plenty of te reo Māori too, with surtitles projected onto a screen to help with translation. Some of the dancing was good, drawing applause from the crowd at times, especially performances from Pillow (Manuel Solomon) and Sefa Tunupopo.

Sadly though, that was about it for the highlights. There weren’t any moments that made me particularly emotional, or laugh out loud. The beginning of the show was confusing, with audio snippets featuring Hana-Rawhiti Maipi-Clarke and another with pro-Palestine chants. There was even a Palestinian flag. They were one of many loaded guns that failed to fire throughout the story. Another was an awkward interaction between Pillow’s sister Manuela Rorirori (Mycah Keall) and Stacey Li Paul (Nomuna Amarbat), which left me wondering if it was a strange dip into exploring gay relationships, or just a poorly executed joke.

The entire audio experience was restricted to jarring voice overs with heavy hip-hop tunes cut in between. The voiceovers were discombobulating at first and I spent at least the first half of the show wondering why they chose to use them – was it because they didn’t all learn their lines? Maybe they wanted the actors to focus on the dancing? Whatever the reason, it resulted in some awkward pauses and felt unnatural. Someone else in the audience said it was like watching the All Blacks play in gumboots.

Billed as a 75 minute production, the show went past 90 minutes. The guy in the seat next to me left an hour in. The middle part of the show seemed to take forever, with the crowd and cast literally going around in circles. There was a strange mix of french dance terms and moves sprinkled in, plus something I can only describe as an AI-generated tūpuna character that felt like it was only brought in to help carry the storyline.

I really wanted Ngā Rorirori to be good. It has the bones to be great. Unfortunately though, it seems to get lost in the sauce. I can’t help but feel that the story is lacking in a production that maybe focused too much on trying to be innovative and “cool”. For me, it needed more emotional connection, or to push the envelope further with its humour and criticisms. I wanted to be challenged emotionally, mentally and spiritually. Make me cry from pain or laughter – this doesn’t do either. While I appreciate what Hone Kouka is trying to achieve, Ngā Rorirori unfortunately misses the mark.