If you’re part of the creative sector, it’s hard to truly convey to those outside of it what it’s like. 

The passion, the magic, the madness, the indescribable feeling of seeing what you’re making come together.  The bond that is built with others you’re creating with.

It’s so difficult to capture - but the new local movie Workmates has achieved it.

The New Zealand arts community - up on the big screen, for all to see. A movie about theatre life, made by self-described ‘theatre kids’ - without pretension or sterilising for the masses. And it makes your heart want to burst out of your chest with pride.

It’s so grounded in the reality of working in the arts, it’s not funny - except it is, it's very funny. 

Within the first minutes of the film, they’re making jokes about their next unsuccessful funding application. It’s littered with hugely identifiable traits like how to get things past the Board, crowd funding, resource envy and quotable lines that will feel very familiar.

“This is theatre - we’re not supposed to be well behaved!”

“No one knows you, you’re in arts administration.”

“Sometimes you need to break the rules to make something great happen.”

As producer Sam Snedden explains on his hopes for this movie - “I hope artists watch it and see themselves - I hope they feel seen.”

Light from dark times

The movie is the brainchild of former Basement Theatre General Manager and current Silo Theatre Artistic Director Sophie Henderson. 

An accomplished actress with a track record of success on stage and as a screenwriter (Fantail, Baby Done, The Justice of Bunny King), she wrote this story of the duo running the fictional Crystal Ballroom doing whatever it takes to keep the venue alive during the sector’s darkest days of COVID.

Henderson told The Big Idea “The idea started really little, during the long lockdown. All of my friends lost jobs, a play I was in got cancelled and all the theatres were dark and I was like, ‘what if they never come back?’ I wanted to write something about my time at the Basement and running that space. We were just going to shoot it on iPhones.”

She called on the talents of her real-life best friend and former Basement GM partner-in-crime Snedden with the plan they’d play themselves and it would be closer to the real story. 

They’ve known each other since meeting at drama school auditions when Henderson was 17 and Snedden 24 - they describe their relationship as like brother/sister and that’s unmistakable when you sit them down together for a conversation, their answers blending in to one another.

But as the development process evolved, the decision was made to add a (completely fictitious) romance angle between the two main characters of Lucy (played to chaotic perfection by Henderson) and the slightly-more-sensible Tom (embodied by Matt Whelan). 

With Henderson’s husband Curtis Vowell on board as director - this love letter to the performing arts began to take shape.

Finding the funding

It’s hard enough to get a stage production made in the current climate, so how on earth did they manage to get a movie made about the theatre?

Henderson begins “When we went in for the production funding, Sam was so sure we were going to get it. And I was like, ‘Alright, mate, good luck’. (Laughs) Honestly, I didn't think they would green-light it.”

Snedden picks up “I think I was totally ignorant of the process. I’d never made a movie and I think that helped me to have the confidence to make one. 

"I really loved the story, and I really felt like it would resonate with people. When it got bigger, I just felt like all signs pointed to yes, I guess. Did it feel grandiose? I think anyone who tries to make a career in the arts is essentially a little bit delusional.”

They approached the NZ Film Commission asking for the maximum amount of money you can receive without getting a bonding company on board. NZFC loved the concept and told them to work on it more and aim higher - it paid off.

“Part of why I think we got (the movie) up is Sam raised so much money from philanthropists in the theatre community. We were going to the Film Commission with something like 12-13% private investment, which was amazing for a film of our size. To get $170,000 of cash and in-kind investment support is a lot of money.” 

Snedden agreed “They were just people who believed in us when we were making the Basement who we'd kept in touch with - and they believed in us making this film about it too. Incredibly generous. I said to Sophie early on… when this process is over, I will have no favours left - none," he chortles.

"I will use every theatre favour I have to make this movie about theatre.“

He wasn’t kidding. 

Henderson reveals “All the venues were free - Basement just gave us their space while it was closed over the summer, Auckland Live came on board and gave us that venue, tech gear…”

“We were just like, ‘can we get into the St. James Theatre?’” Snedden adds “‘Can we can shoot in your foyer?’ And they went ‘well, it costs $10,000 to hire the the Kiri te Kananwa for a single night’. We said ‘can we have it for free?’ And they replied 'as long as you shoot it 1am’ - we were sweet with that!”

Dealing with dodgy

The movie tackles issues that will ring true for many in the arts - some hilarious, others more confronting.

As Henderson details, “I think that character (Lucy) represents what you put on the line for the good of your art. The dodgy things you put up with to save something beautiful.”

As well as raising moral conundrums, there are also wry smiles to be found in some of the corner-cutting that goes on at the Crystal Ballroom.  When posed the question of how much of the theatre maintenance gags were embellished and what was true stories from their time running the Basement, the replies begin to bounce around like a tennis ball at Wimbledon. 

Henderson serves first. “I have to say that the Basement now is fully legit. The Basement when we were running it.. less so.” 

“We believed it was necessary to break rules to make magic.” 

“And that's true -we did break them for a time. I promise I'm not like that anymore…” Henderson vows.

Starting the list, Snedden offers “We did set off the fire alarms. We did put ice cream containers over the smoke alarms.”

“We did gaffer tape up exit signs because you can't get a proper blackout,” Henderson volleys back.  “We did actually shut down. In the middle of Fringe, they shut down the studio space upstairs and I had to call like 50 artists and get the people who are in the theatre space to share with the people in the studio space. It was like a programming nightmare.” 

Henderson shifts “The feeling of the film is real, you know? There's the literal and the emotional truth - it's a memory film. It all feels real. The film feels what it was like to run the Basement. 

“Me, Sam and Charlie (McDermott) were the ones who got the first CNZ funding for it to be a risk share. So for years, we were barely getting paid, we were reliant on box office to open. It was a crazy time.” 

In this together

There’s been a deliberate play with Workmates to bring the sector along for the ride. 

If you stick around for the credits, those who work - or play - in the creative fields will recognise plenty of names.  From set designers to script assistants to the cast themselves, Henderson, Snedden, Vowell and the production team have been intentional with their selection.

“We really made a choice with the actors that they were all theatre actors,” Henderson reveals. “I think every single one of them, Curtis and I had worked with either on screen or in the theatre - except for Aki (Munroe, as the scene-stealing Whētu) - but we'd seen Aki on stage. They were all actors we loved, and we rang them up and they said yes.” 

Doubling down on the art-imitating-life factor, Snedden chimes in. “With the board scene in the film, I play the Chairperson but Charlie (McDermott) is in there and the other people there are all the board members from when Soph and I ran Basement. It's so good.” 

While it has something all in the creative fields can relate to, it’s going to be particularly poignant for anyone who has fallen in love with the performing arts at any stage of their lives. 

If you have a memory about backstage frivolity, if you can still remember what it’s like to cheap out on that prop you needed for the school production or dressed in black to help the techies - this movie will bring it all flooding back.

“I think so many people have come out of the woodwork and are secret theatre kids - so many people did drama at high school or have been in an amateur dramatic play or a musical - there's a whole network of drama kids everywhere all around the world who will, I think, love this film,” beams Henderson.

But for those who live and breath the industry, this will feel less like a movie and more like a lived experience. 

Snedden opens up “It's a coming-of-age story, but it's a coming-of-age for someone who's in their 30s. There can be a Peter Pan-ish quality to the people who live those kinds of chaotic, freelance lifestyles. I certainly don't want to cast aspersions on anybody in the arts because anyone who is making a living doing this, they're almost a one of one,” he declares, holding back tears. 

”It's so hard. It's so hard. It's so, so courageous.”

'Real jobs'? Nah, we're good

As well as this extraordinary and exciting career moment they’re experiencing, both Snedden and Henderson have day jobs in the sector too. It’s part of their DNA - they are arts ‘lifers’.  Snedden teaching drama students at Unitec, Henderson settling back in at Silo.

Henderson’s eyes sparkle as she speaks. “Lifting other people up and seeing them shine on stage, supporting other people's careers, doing something bigger than yourself - I just love that so much. I find that so much more fulfilling than writing scripts in my bedroom.  

“I'm at Silo is to serve my community, discover new people, develop people and try and make more shows and more jobs…it doesn’t feel like work for me.”

“I feel the same,” nods Snedden. ”It's the same reason that I'm at Unitec because uplifting people, training a new generation trying to engender that mad, brilliant, courageous enthusiasm - it's what I want to do. 

“I do a scene class once every two weeks just as an actor, and I get as much pleasure out of it as I do out of getting a (paid acting) job - I ride for this art form.  I'm in service to this art form.” 

That drives another ambition with this movie for Henderson. 

“I really want (to reach) a younger audience. That's exciting for me. I want people to go, ‘oh, I could do that. I could be in the arts’ - maybe what we do in the movie’s too dodgy (laughs) - but I do think it's so fun. 

"It is a good time just making something from nothing and keeping the lights on with hard work.”

The verdict

Everyone has different tastes - but you’re not going to find a more real, relatable and accurately Aotearoa scripted depiction of the live arts scene in this country than Workmates.

If you have even a passing interest in this sector, it’s must-watch - pure and simple.

Some memorable performances, laugh-out-loud humour, painfully relatable love story, home-slipper level familiarity with the locations, spot-on depictions of both the wonderful and the wanky people everyone has experienced in the arts community and a hugely-appreciated choice not to ‘Hollywood’ the script…Henderson and Whelan suck you in as production mates that you'll feel like you already know (or perhaps are).

Anticipation is building ahead of its World Premiere at the Civic on Friday (1 August) as part of the New Zealand International Film Festival, before its nationwide release on 21 August.

Henderson’s final message to the creative community - “We made this for you and hope you love it…” before adding with that glint of mischief sweeping across her face “and if you're a theatre kid, hit me up and I'll tell you how to get into the after-party.” 

 It doesn’t get any more theatre than that.