A good criminal gang needs roles. Fixers, drivers, the kind of people who look at impossible odds and say ‘I’m in’. Each one with a specific set of skills that allows them to pull off that one last job before they can retire forever. This is no different.

Murder Club is yet another madcap idea devised and directed by Joel Luscombe, improvised by some of the most chaotic improvisors in Wellington City. Starring Tristram Domican, Kipling Davies-Colley, Mamaeroa Munn, Dianne Pulham and Megan Connolly, what starts off as an already insane idea descends into a pit of madness from which no sense can escape.

The premise is simple; the audience gives the performers a fictional character for the Murder Club to assassinate. It’s a testament to the fun of the format that audience members are calling for fictional heads on spikes before Davies-Colley is able to finish his opening spiel. People are chomping at the bit to witness the deaths of Jack Sparrow and Pocahontas (who’s not actually fictional) but once the rules are followed, the quarry is decided; Dracula.

It’s a great start to the show when the audience is already leaning forward before a single scene’s been set up.

We follow three members of Murder Club who form the core main cast. Together they establish a plan, with additional flavouring to flesh out their characters’ motivations, and most importantly, they asisgn each member of the club roles and goals to fulfill within the next few scenes.

This represents the backbone of the show’s structure. It’s a super clever piece of work. The next few scenes take one of the main club members and pair them with one of the supporting cast, who plays a character dressed improvised to assist the main cast with their specific goal. However, the trick here is that the main cast is never allowed to completely succeed. A search for garlic turns into a settlement for paprika. The hunt for a noble steed results in a 95-year horse named Johnny (?) being added to the crew for a handful of beans. Progress is made toward the assassination, but not the progress the characters were intending. It’s schmucking at its best, and exactly what Luscombe’s direction excels at.

This is repeated after a brief regrouping, and the characters are once again sent out to accomplish their second goals. By this time, the magic of the format has been revealed, and we can see the hand being played. It would be nice to see a bit of a shift in the format when it repeats, but that doesn’t detract from the hilarious scenes that ensue.

Carrying these scenes are the phenomenal actors who work so differently, yet so well together. Tristram Domican constantly has the audience in apprehensive giggles as he glides across the stage, becoming aroused by a myriad of inanimate objects that get mimed. He plays into this bit throughout the whole show, committing to the chaos. Dianne Pulham pushes the narrative forward with every line of dialogue, producing setting, goals, and expression of personal desires all at once. The efficiency with which she drives scenes is so snappy and engaging to watch. Megan Connolly’s charisma is unmatched, digging deep into every character they play, including the target themself; Dracula. It’s such a delight when they come out in an outfit based on everything the other characters have been alluding to. A masterclass in active listening.

Kipling Davies-Colley brings his signature sad boy energy and takes every scene so personally, you can’t help but feel for him. He is repeatedly put into the position of the straight man against his more absurdist scene partners, and never fails to find a way to get frustrated about it in the funniest way. Mamaeroa Munn redefines object work, no longer satisfied with simply picking up pots and bowls. Instead, she completely embodies the concept of these objects and, like Domican, refuses to drop the bit for even a second. Combined with her willingness to accept and then elevate the insanity around her, she produces an ethereal performance that only leads to escalation.

All this to say that every single one of these players knows their role and plays it to its full potential. Their skillsets are so different, but when united by a common structure, they succeed just as much as their characters fail. In the end, their target is neutralised, just not in the way that any of them anticipated. A perfect ending.

Murder Club is a joyous exploration of the inherent goofiness involved in planning a murder. It revels in plans going off the rails and the fun of improvising with the resources they’ve got. It’s a hilarious, violent delight that has a hilarious, violent end.

I’m in.

Disclosure: As an active member of the Wellington performing arts community, I am 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.