This show is anything but.

A three-person play by In The Soup Productions, Messy is a dark comedy about post-uni direction (or lack thereof). With an excellently paced script and three stellar performances, it explores the importance of mental health in the arts scene, and the support we have to give each other to pull us through the dark.

The stage is gorgeously draped with red fabrics that contrast beautifully with the predominantly green costuming. Right from the start, we’re completely immersed, to the point where the play just begins at its own leisure with zero awkwardness. It takes place entirely within main character Freya’s bedroom, displaying scenes of emotionally charged angst and hope, interspersed with monologues that serve to reset the energy of the room when it gets too real.

Tara Weston-Webb leads the cast as Freya, a struggling artist whose chronic procrastination is all too relatable to anybody who’s ever stared at a blank page or canvas. She carries the emotional weight of the script, seemingly entirely in her eyes which flicker in the BATS Stage lights yielding glimpses of tears in her blinking. She’s pulling double-duty as director and it shows with the way she embodies her script in and out. With her, it feels like every word matters, every gesture means something.

Opposite her for most of the show is Clare Poulgrain, playing flatmate Gracie. Poulgrain does such a fantastic job acting as both a foil and a mirror to Freya’s more hidden struggles, delivering deeply miserable lines with lashings of sass that almost disguise the sadness. She finds strength in her empathy and bridges the connection between the audience and the darker parts of the narrative.

Sarah Penny joins as the third character, Annie, who drops in strategically to boost the energy levels when required. Honestly, this girl is ADHD incarnate, speeding through her lines without ever dropping a word. She’s a magnetic presence who elevates the pacing with every frantic movement she makes. After the play, I had to reconcile how many times she actually appears on stage and I think it’s just two?? Massive presence for such a short time. Great work.

It’s the chemistry between the performers that really makes this show work. They all just seem so in-tune with each other and the script that time flies by. By the curtain call, I’m stunned. It feels like I’m in the theatre for ten minutes. For a fifty minute play. It’s constantly entertaining in a variety of ways. When the quips come, they land to giggles from the audience. When the emotionally charged moments arrive, the girls commit completely to their performances.

And that’s just the obvious stuff.

There’s so many moments of subtlety that add so much to the narrative. A seeming misstep knocks over mushrooms, only for them to be cleaned up as part of the next scene. Glances at paintings at the right time tell us where the characters’ hearts truly lie. There’s a moment where Freya gives a sarcastic thumbs up to Gracie as she rambles about her day. The shadow it casts against the back of the stage looks like a middle finger. It’s so powerful in its subtlety. This is a show that doesn’t need to yell, it just needs to be.

The key throughline of the show is the fracturing mental healths of the girls, and how each struggle looks different. Sometimes they clash, sometimes they help each other, but there’s always a feeling that they want what’s best for each other, even if they don’t quite know how to communicate it. It’s a superbly poignant way of demonstrating various afflictions, and how to help each other through them.

There’s an almost meta commentary going here about the framing around artist burnout and it’s a great way to bring attention to something that affects pretty much everybody in the arts. In an age where our youngest artists are entering an industry that’s unfairly pulled up most of the ladders, it can feel hopeless. It’s exhausting to just exist in this scene and Messy doesn’t shy away from admitting it. It is hard, it is ruthless, and it is, for the most part, unrewarding. Characters break down at the realisation that the death of inspiration isn’t something that happens overnight, it is a slow death. It’s not the knocking over of an unfinished canvas, it’s the passing of yet another day without a single stroke made, then another, and another.

The play shows us the harsh reality of what it’s like to be an artist where the crumbs left aren’t enough to sustain one of us, let alone all of us. But it also shows the solidarity of that situation. As artists, we need to be both able to support each other, and be supported by each other. We are not competition, we are colleagues, and we should consider each other as such. Sometimes we go through slumps, and that’s okay. We can carry each other through them. That’s what Messy is saying. That’s what it means to be an artist.

Messy is a play that will make you laugh, cry, send you spiralling, then fill you with hope. It’s a reminder that the harshness of the arts industry is not the artists’ fault, but just another challenge that we can overcome, together. It’s an expertly-paced play that never drags, loaded with performances that are authentic and powerful. I urge everyone in the arts community to see this.

And, in return, be seen.

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