Can I get a woof woof?

The New Zealand Improv Festival is back in full swing now and on the second night, I find myself at a local favourite; Tiny Dog.

Comprising a core cast of Gabby Anderson, Alayne Dick, Charlotte Glucina, Stevie Hancox-Monk and Lesa Macleod-Whiting, along with guest (?) star, Ryan Knighton, the Tiny Dog crew bring their classic brand of absurdist improv to a fully engaged audience.

The premise is simple. Questions projected above the stage prompt the audience to answer on post-it notes that can stuck onto a large board. Throughout the show, the Tiny Dog cast seek inspiration from these ask-fors and little by little, the board gets whittled down. It’s a great way to build pre-show buzz. The crew are already in position, encouraging punters to pop in their answers. The performance has begun long before everyone’s walked through the doors.

Once everyone’s submitted and seated, the lights dim. Tiny Dog converge in the centre of the stage and pose in the darkness. Yes, we can all see them shuffling around, but what do they care? What do we care for that matter? They’re having fun with this. One performer can’t even stifle their giggles as the lights go up and who can blame them? You’ve got the set the tone somehow, and what better way than with such a strong, delightful note.

After some quick introductions, the scenes begin.

It’s hard to describe the next hour as anything but a bizarre long-form fever dream in which you’re never sure if a reference to a previous scene is simply a call-back or a genuine continuation of the ever-expanding canon. There’s a sense of tension when the cast has established that any scene, at any point could be revealed to be mere role-play therapy exercise. We engage with the scene anyway, regardless of its hold on ‘reality’ and the more we return to familiar locations, the more we get to know about the mini-worlds we’ve seen created.

It’s impossible to stop laughing.

With a cast like this, it’s hard to give individual props, but I’ll give it a shot anyway.

Anderson displays a frenetic energy that results in strong characters such as a casting director from Hell (literally). Dick’s signature goblin energy is on full display, conceptually redefining what a ‘naughty book’ is. Glucina’s deadpan delivery of hippo facts is a refreshing palate cleanser whilst being responsibly educational. Hancox-Monk, even when playing the dorkiest stenographer, oozes cool in every scene they’re a part of. Macleod-Whiting’s prop work forces me to double-blink to make sure I’m not really seeing the smoke coming off her imaginary cigarette. Finally, Knighton brings a soft masculinity to the proceedings, always complementing the generally feminine vibe of the scenes, never stealing from it, even when portraying a dick-turned-owl named Allen.

The quality of the improv is as stellar as always, but I honestly don’t believe that’s the draw of this show. The reason I keep going back to Tiny Dog isn’t the consistency of the jokes, or the punchy one-liners they land. It’s the chemistry and aroha between the cast that enraptures me, along with the rest of the audience. Individually, they’re all immensely talented performers, but together they’re so much larger than their troupe name would suggest.

So, in the end, this isn’t really a review of last night’s show as much as a record of Tiny Dog’s chemistry. It’s not a monthly show, it’s a collaboration that happens to manifest on-stage every month or so to the delight of everyone present. I have every bit of confidence that even when they’re old pups, they’ll still be inspiring each other and bringing out new tricks. I can’t wait to see more.

Woof woof.

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