Yo, I thought my dreams were fucked.

Enter the world of dreams with Mog Connolly‘s debut solo hour, Night Ferals, a show that refuses to divulge whether everything that’s happening is all in your head or actually happening in front of you. A combination of sketch and clown, sanity is always kept at an arm’s length as you’re hit with a barrage of colour, sound, and perfectly timed cues.

Framed as a tour guide of Dreamland, our guide, Mog, ushers us into weird location after weird location, each one offering its own unique kind of unhinged madness. Each bit serves a distinct purpose, whether it’s to lure us further into a surreal, almost slumbering state, or a sudden snap-back to reality. The result is a show where not only are you unsure of what to expect next, but when the mood might just switch up on you.

The set design is purposeful and phenomenally structured to maximise weirdness. Angled mirrors hang from the walls, maybe reflecting into each other, forming liminal spaces within liminal spaces. You’ll often catch a glimpse of performance through them, adding to the illusion that not all is quite where it should be. A white curtain serves a double-purpose. Once as a wing to hide stage manager Maeve Burns and the myriad of props used in the show, but also as a flowy, ethereal projector screen upon which mere impressions of Mog’s psyche are displayed.

Mog is no stranger to the stage and their presence is pure comfort. At times, they feel like they’re lost in the dream themself, but never to the extent that we’re not confident in where they’re going. We go along the crazy path they’ve laid out for us with little resistance. We respond when they call. We speak when spoken to. We are led like lambs to laughter. This is in huge part thanks to Mog’s impeccable instinct for audience manipulation. It’s not easy to get a whole audience holding up an entire speaking role within a play, yet Mog does it with ease. We are putty in their hands, and they mould us to their whims.

With the expert execution of tech by Felix Olohan, it’s rare to see the seams. I can only imagine how meticulous the rehearsals for this show would have been as they nail the timing consistently. Every moment feels magical. There are even instances where the tech is designed to be a little delayed for comedic effect, which pulls double-duty as proof that everything is being done in real time. There are no tricks or rhythms here, just a performer and tech tuned perfectly in time. Hell, even stage manager, Maeve Burns, has their comedic timing nailed on, whether it’s a telephone, microphone, or quietly dragging a blanket backstage. It’s an absolutely well-oiled machine.

All of this incredible groundwork laid means that it’s so easy to relax and laugh at the absurdity. And there’s a lot of laughing. It feels packed in the BATS Studio. Mog doesn’t even have to tell jokes in order to get laughs out of us, but they do so anyway, and generously. It’s no secret to anybody in the Wellington scene that Mog is really, really fucking funny, and that truth is being screamed from the rooftops here. They combine surprise and character to create an act that’s unforgettable, and yet you’re left wondering if it was real.

This is the level of professionalism that we should aspire to in the Wellington scene. Mog has thought of everything. It’s a carefully planned show, despite presenting itself as ethereal, and the result is a chaotic 50 minutes that feels secure in its actual material. Everything goes according to Mog’s vision, and it’s a damn thrilling one. Nothing feels like an accident, even the accidents – a cucumber went walkabouts tonight but I question within myself whether that was planned. The show is so full of surprises hidden in plain sight, and it’s an absolute delight to experience live.

It’s a shock to nobody that Night Ferals is an excellent demonstration of Mog’s talents. Between clowning and sketch elements, you’re constantly kept on your toes for the next big thing to happen. The set, the timing, the content are all packaged together in a phenomenal performance that has to be experienced in real time to be believed. It’s a fantastic show.

But was it all a dream..?

Disclosure: As a somewhat active member of the Wellington performing arts community, I may be quite familiar with a number of the performers in this show. Having said that, I am not a liar, and there is zero bias in my reviews, shut up.

Also, tickets were provided to me for free by the production. Literally changes nothing, though