Flat shares always have a weird crowded energy.
You feel like your space isn’t quite your own, that there’s little living going on in the living room. The kitchen is either a warzone that only the most precise of schedules can mange, or it’s in a perpetual pristine condition, never used by anyone in the flat. It’s anxious, it’s suffocating, it’s water bubbling under your ears.
Which is why it’s astounding that Nick Robertson manages to caapture the complete opposite vibe with Everything That Happened at Number 68.
Upon entry, our host is open, inviting and ready to please as he makes offers of blankets, pillows and even tea (in limited supply). At first, people are hesitant to take up the offers. This, after all, is billed as a comedy show, and the fear of a prank is real. But the more we listen to Robertson’s preamble, the comfier we get, and by the time the show starts, almost everything on offer has been snatched up. All of this creates a wonderful, cosy vibe that acts a salve for the chaos that NZ Fringe normally offers.
And thus begins the show.
Robertson immediately demonstrates what a phenomenal storyteller he is by declaring his hands to be covered in piss, and yet the audience is captivated, wanting to know more. The way he describes his settings are completely immersive and, in addition to the cosy vibe he’s cultivated, make us feel like we’ve popped round to a mate’s place where he’s spilling the tea with a side of earl grey.
Amongst the storytelling are some incredibly funny jokes, centred around the absurdity of the antics perpetrated by his flatmates and himself. But despite their chaotic nature, Robertson consistently grounds them in reality. He’s not telling stories out of malice, or catharthis. He’s breathing life into the characters he’s talking about and allowing them to sound reasonable, despite their silliness. This is a storyteller who loves these characters as much as he feels compelled to talk about them. They’re framed as absurd characters but they’re treated with respect, like the human beings they are. It’s a tremendous display of respect that you wouldn’t expect in a show about the drama of a flat share.
There’s a plethora of really great techniques at play here too. Recurring joke motifs jolt us back into the right mindset. Stories told out of order click into place with just a few corresponding details. The whole show is a cohesive living work of art that builds complete trust with the audience. At all times, we feel safe, warm and, crucially, willing to accept a couple of puns with minimal groaning.
Everything That Happened at Number 68 is a hilarious and highly polished piece of entertainment. Everything, from the content to the vibe, whispers ‘cosy’ and invites you in for a series of stories told by someone who’s a master of the craft. Nick Robertson is a genuine delight in his performance and leaves you with an appreciation for humanity, wherever it lies.
Even within a bunny named George (né Meataxe).
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.