NOTE: This review will contain light spoilers.

Sorry, don’t look at me, I’m just crying in the Community Centre.

Before We Slip Beneath the Sea is an immersive theatrical experience that plunges its audience right into the heart of not just an incident, but a community of people about to be displaced by the rising tides. Written & directed by Cassandra Tse, the play tells the story of the last party before the evacuation to the mainland.

This is no ordinary stage.

The Te Aro Community Centre is abuzz with audience members eager to figure out exactly how the experience is supposed to work as they help themselves to generously laid out cans of drink. We are asked to mingle, listen, and most of all, eavesdrop into the many conversations happening simultaneously around the hall. But we don’t really understand what that means, until voices start calling out, setting the scene of the play from all directions of the hall. That’s when the penny drops.

This is some Westworld shit.

Suddenly, there are calls to make sandwiches in the kitchen, petitions to sign and latecomers bursting in for a party. At first, I’m thrown. I take a flyer for a councillor, but skip out on signing the petition (there was a queue). A woman hands me a bowl of chips and I pass it around like an awkward guest at a real party. I listen in on two women holding flyers for about thirty seconds before realising that they’re not actually part of the play.

But flitting from set piece to set piece gives me the context I need to figure out what the real story is here. Everyone’s got a strong opinion on the evacuation and I find myself in agreement with almost all of them. What starts as throwaway banter becomes a piece of a puzzle that I’ll never see the completed version of. There’s FOMO, but I never feel like I’m lost. The bits of conversation I overhear give me more than enough to piece together a full enough picture. We’re invited to interact with the actors, but I’m so invested in their talks with each other that I’m obsessed with being a fly on the wall for everything.

There is some excellent game design here. Despite the various conversations being strewn about the hall, whenever a main beat is incoming, the conversations pivot and start moving toward the main beat. Characters will suddenly ditch their conversations and the audience will follow them, eager to know what happens next for them. It’s a phenomenal piece of theatrical user interface that makes sure we’re always looking at something interesting, and we’re never missing out on crucial information. There are even times where actors set up for a scene with no onlookers, and without fail, stage manager Abby Lyons is there to start a viewing party, just watching them and inviting others to do the same. Once a crowd forms, most of us are too invested in the scene to notice her slip away to set up the next one.

It’s moments like this where I really appreciate what a well-oiled machine this is. There are, essentially, up to four different scenes running concurrently, and I can’t believe how seamless they all blend into each other. This can only be accomplished with whip-smart writing and an insane degree of precision that I can only imagine how long rehearsals must have been to nail it. The actors are all incredible from start to finish.

Charlie Potter as Bree holds the perspective I most personally resonate with. She’s doubling down on the inevitable and branching out where she can. Potter brings a level-headed sweetness to the show and she’s so easy to follow around. She exudes a charming shyness that makes her interactions with other characters so endearing to watch.

Her sister, Carla, on the other hand, is played by Hannah McKenzie Doornebosch and has a more outspoken approach to the problems the island is facing. Just because of the show’s nature, Carla was the character I followed the least, which is a shame because I would have loved to see more of the chirpy, welcoming energy that she exuded in the scenes I saw.

Clive, played by Ralph Johnson, was probably the character I followed the most of across the whole play. I was fascinated by his perspective and his tiredness of it all that I couldn’t help but root for him as he struggled to find his footing in an ever-changing crisis. Johnson plays out that struggle spectacularly, and I cheered when he was finally able to communicate his own desires.

Megan Connolly’s Eden is a wonderful contemporary character whose quirks and creativity result in the most logistical successes of the island’s plans. They’re the one who gets the most laughs by virtue of their chaotic nature, but also their well-placed political commentary. Connolly stealing the sweetest moment in the whole show was not on my bingo card, but they pull it off with such grace, it had me internally screaming.

The other young character, Kip, played by Billie Deganutti, is designed as the heart of story, for his character’s best traits, or for his worst. Deganutti expertly plays the misunderstood teenager with all the misplaced emotion that comes with the territory. He exhibits that perfect balance of youthful exuberance and dark anger, letting both reign over him at the appropriate moments. One moment near the climax had myself and the rest of the audience completely shook.

Helen Jones as Maggie, is one of the clearer voices in the cast. She could be heard from anywhere in the hall, and was always a safe bet to get good new information out of. There’s a strong mark of respect that seems to follow her around. Jones is incredible at maintaining her status in every scene, always seemingly in charge, so in the few scenes where she isn’t, she’s a fascinating watch.

Marty, played by Craig Geenty, is a great devil’s advocate throughout the whole play. He’s so self-assured and just wants to move on, but his personal relationships won’t allow him to just up and go. Geenty has this strong masculine vibe that exudes action, but he holds it back when it’s time for him to really connect with the other characters.

With a cast like this split across different parts of the hall, the narrative manifests as what I can only describe as omni-drama. Every character feels so strongly about all the others that fights break out, couples are driven apart, and kisses are stolen, all of which would be missed by audience members who weren’t in the right place at the right place. As such, it’s hard to decipher exactly what the core message that playwright Cassandra Tse is trying to get at. That’s got to be intentional. Every audience member left having seen a different combination of scenes to everybody else. The interpretation of what happens completely depends on what you saw at what point.

For me, I took it as a story about how protest buckles under lack of vision. Some characters get caught up in the performative aspects of it, and when it’s suggested that they seek the support of some unscrupulous outsiders, a surprising amount of them are on board with it. Airtime and calls to action become more important than following due process to some, while the opposite applies to others. Wherever I listened in, it seemed that nobody could agree on how to save the island, and when it came down to it, they couldn’t.

It left a pit in my stomach.

We, as the audience, got to pick the ending by virtue of voting on what option to go with. There were arguments flying around for all the options. I voted the same way I did during the last general elections: I turned to Austin Harrison and asked him what I should do. Ultimately, the one we settled on wasn’t quite enough. I don’t think any of them would have been. By the time we got to Eglantyne, it was already too late. By the time, Kip sparked his rebellion, the sea had already dampened the fuse. I felt the tears welling in my eyes as, one by one, the residents issued their epilogues. It was hopeless for this fictional island from the start.

But it doesn’t have to be hopeless for the real world.

I don’t think Tse’s message is that we’ve missed our chance. My interpretation is that she wants to show us exactly what happens, what will happen, if we do miss it. Why did it take until a child of sixteen to speak up, before action was taken? What’s stopping us from taking action now, before it gets too late? This is our chance, right now, to make sure we don’t suffer the same fate as Eglantyne. We just need to get on board, do the mahi, and not fuck about with optics.

At least, that’s my interpretation. Others will have seen different scenes and drawn other conclusions. I feel like I could have spent hours discussing the play with my fellow audience members, but alas, I’m on a deadline for this thing, so I’d better wrap it up.

Before We Slip Beneath the Sea is a hauntingly beautiful portrayal of human relationships. It’s a fantastic immersive experience that plunges you into the sea of its drama, and you don’t even really want to come up for air. I found myself completely invested in the omni-drama, and felt insane FOMO for the other conversations in the room. Ultimately, it’s a well-structured, well-planned and well-executed piece of political art that needs to be truly experienced firsthand. If it ever returns, I urge you to see it.

Before it slips away.

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.