I just scrolled back through my Facebook messages with writer Albert Belz - who reached out almost three years ago to let me know about an aerobics play he was keen to have me consult or choreograph. 

He said it was partly inspired by an aerobics video of me back in the day that I had posted during lockdown.

My answer at the time was that I was cringing at this very long put-away part of my movement journey, but I 'graciously' accepted and said I would be in touch.

Cut to 10 February 2024 - and the play now entitled Hyperspace (running until 24 February) has its world premiere to a packed audience of friends, whānau and industry elite, sponsors, VIPs and stakeholders at the glitzy ASB Waterfront Theatre. 

I have earlier that day concluded choreographing the last-minute changes required, quickly showering downstairs before reemerging with the other creatives as we gather and schmooze with our glasses of sponsored wine.

The evening erupts with a cacophony of vocalised support, the fourth wall is permeable as the Rhythm of the Night calls forth - this is a karanga to the ‘90s that elicits a crinkling memory of New Zealandness including VHS tapes, chips and dip, clubbing, and the heyday of Gloss (the tv show starring Peter Elliott) and gym junkie culture where Aerobics is king.

Back to where it began

As the choreographer, the play felt like a coming-of-age story, a national self-acceptance of seeing ourselves reflected in this nostalgic take by Belz and director Tainui Tukiwaho.

I have had a long history in the evolution of Māori contemporary dance (as a founding member and former Artistic Director of Atamira) with an appreciation of the abstract and the metaphoric which centres the creative approach to the body. Though I have dallied in other disciplines, Hyperspace is the first time I have revisited the language of ‘90s competitive aerobics since actually competing in my early 20s.

To achieve the authenticity of aerobics, I held a pre-Xmas boot camp for the leads of the play to introduce them to the movement, physically and mentally. Sure, the technical specifics of form and execution were touched upon with the four compulsory movements – strides (or jumping jacks), high kicks, sit-ups and press-ups, but it is the extremities of the form (flexibility, explosive and dynamic aerial movements, power lifts and speedy, hyper coordinated movement patterns) that posed a greater challenge.

Kruze Tangira, who plays Tawhai Patai, said to me halfway through the boot camp – “sorry to say it but we’re fucked”, which was a fair enough response to being put into this physical battle. 

I reflect now on the modern version of fitness, which is typified by more high intensified interval training -  'In just 45 minutes, F45 members can burn 400-600 calories, delivering the amazing, post-workout euphoria, all in under one hour'. 

We also had some memorable flubs, including trying out a lift from the 1991 pairs winning routine where the female jumps, splits her legs and grabs the male partners hands, and by using momentum and physics, he tosses her over his head. 

I competed as an Individual so didn’t have personal knowledge of how to achieve these lifts, but breaking it down, we got into a compromising lifting position only for the actors to fail – giving new meaning to the saying “ass about face”. 

We fell about laughing and it was in these moments, where the dynamic interplay between the characters Natalie Te Rehua (Te Ao O’Hinepehinga Rauna) and Tangira were born.

Characters Sonny (Kauri Williams) and Jen (Anna-Maree Thomas) were also at that boot camp. At that time, the script only called for them to do a short routine as a silly opening to the second half. The script notes say: “At this point in their practice for the championships, they’re not gonna be in the medal running, but would definitely take the gold for enthusiasm”. 

However, as the rehearsals unfolded and the director’s vision for an aerobics competition inside the play emerged, the heat was on to transform them. Thomas asked me “What do you call people who do Aerobics competitions?” 

I said, “Athletes. They are Aerobic Athletes”. 

In one particular rehearsal session, I treated them how I would if they were training for a competition. They were huffing and puffing, and the repetitions were killing them. As I later said onstage “They are not acting their routines, they are truly doing aerobics.”

The play itself is an epic construction, a 14-strong cast with five emerging Māori performers, and a unique mix showcasing the diverse range of skills (hip hop, ballet, gymnastics, circus, skateboarding, basketball) and more importantly a range of physicalities that make the show imminently relatable to audiences. I relished the task of drawing all of these differences together and slowly building a repertoire of functional movement abilities that then became the foundation for the overall choreographic lens of the script's passionate flair for movement and dance.

Movement matters

The rehearsals; which took place at Te Pou Theatre, were this hubbub of daily energy; cast members riding bikes to work for fitness, COVID recovery, dealing with the cast’s many varied roles in the play and sharing time with their acting workshopping. 

We had three stage managers (Matiu Kereama, Chiara Niccolini, Ariana Williams) who held the fort, and a slew of marvellous designers (Filament Eleven – set and lighting, Allison Reid – costume, Crescendo studios – sound) who were all buzzing into the hive. We worked, we sweated, we pushed through.

One day at rehearsal - during our daily check-in - Tangira shared his reflections on the protests happening around the country regarding the nation’s discontent with the coalition government’s leaked draft of Treaty of Waitangi principles, alleging it would “erase” Te Tiriti. The outer world rippled as it does, while we worked on sustaining our bubble. 

In many ways, it is my belief as an artist that our work is pivotal to being the change required. 

The other day, I spoke onstage as part of a forum, where I reflected on - amongst many things - the importance of partnerships between Māori creatives and non Māori. A joint statement issued on Waitangi Day by Te Pou Theatre and Auckland Theatre Company said: “Our coproduction of Hyperspace is theatre made by Māori in partnership with non-Māori. It is an example of the Treaty in action. Two worlds, two peoples, two tongues, two ways of thinking, working together: kotahitanga and mana motuhake in partnership and action”. 

It is radical mahi to highlight the strength of resources that everyone brings, and it uplifts me to know that we are putting new work onstage that shows our faces, our feelings, our words and our being. 

The play humanises the ongoing lived experiences of whānau (this play is the follow-up to 2019’s Astroman which follows the coming of age of sibling, Hemi Te Rehua) and puts our accent and vocabulary front and centre. 

Sitting in the audience on opening night was a blast, with beautiful speeches by ATC and Te Pou, drawing attention to the role of arts in our communities.

Indeed, at my talk, I was asked what I thought about the influence of Māori and Pasifika plays on young South Aucklanders. I decided not to wax lyrical, but to question why in 2024 we are still having to imagine a space where our stories can be adequately held. That our Indigeneity can also exist outside of Te Matatini, Church, School or our community spaces, and that ATC is a wonderful example of programming diversity where many voices are heard.

Let's raise a glass - or a barbell - to the collective entwining that celebrates and shows who we are, in a time where we may regress through misinformation. The heart of our nation (and the Hyperspace cast, at least) beats strongly.