19 hours ago
Review: Roger Hall's End of Summer Time knows it audience
Sam Brooks reviews the new play from New Zealand's most successful playwright.
Roger Hall's new comedy End of Summer Time is all about Dickie Hart. The character, returning from two earlier plays (C'mon Black and You Gotta Be Joking!) is a retired farmer who moves from Wellington to an apartment block in Takapuna with his wife to be closer to his grandkids. He's very much set in his conservative ways, not especially interested in new ways of thinking, and definitely not new ways of living life. He is pitched as a loveable curmudgeon, but your mileage might vary on how loveable he is.
The comedy on display in Auckland Theatre Company's production of End of Summer Time is as broad as the ASB Waterfront stage, which is to say that it's pretty authentic to the Hall's creation; these aren't dad jokes, these are granddad jokes. End of Summer Time is a reflection of a very specific lens on Auckland, in that Dickie Hart's idea of South Auckland probably means 'south of Smith and Caugheys' (RIP). Hart has other ideas you might associate with a man of his demographic; he has thoughts about the attractive woman who lives in his building, the idea of learning reo Māori (that joke got more winces than laughs), and the very basic concept of veganism. None of these thoughts are surprising, and this allows Hall a very broad canvas to paint on; we can feel the punchlines coming in our bodies before we even hear them.
Andrew Grainger, an ATC mainstay and favourite, does great work. He has to carry a near two-hour show, and with a fairly minimal set, hold a spell over the audience. He also has to marry two competing, conflicting, sides of Dickie Hart. He is both showman and grump. He makes jokes but refuses to be made a joke of. It is a testament to Grainger's charm – which softens some of Hart's rougher takes on modern society – and craft – which brings a clownish physicality that doesn't necessarily exist on the page – that End of Summer Time works. He's an ideal match for Hall's comedy: Hall loads the gun, Grainger fires it.
Throughout the show's first act, you can feel how surgically Hall has peppered the show with jokes – certain pockets laugh at the sports jokes, others at the difficulties of finding your way back to a car in the Civic Theatre carpark, others the reality of driving up Takapuna's Lake Road.
Then comes the interval.
While an interval is likely a logistical and economic reality, it does End of Summer Time a disservice. The first act cliffhanger – which I won't spoil here, but is signalled fairly early on in the show – drops as heavily as the literal curtain that it cues. It also completely breaks the spell that Grainger has on the audience; we're allowed to leave the space, talk amongst ourselves, and essentially, judge the production before it has even finished.
This is especially jarring because of the huge tonal shift that occurs after the interval. While the first act plays as close to a stand-up set as a solo play possibly can, the second act is an interrogation of loneliness, particularly the brand of loneliness experienced by older males who are used to being communicated at rather than embarking on that communication themselves. Grainger communicates Dickie Hart's reality as movingly in this act as he did comedically in the first act, but we're placed at a distance from him. The interval also allows us to make a judgement of Dickie Hart's character before this particular arc is completed, which is especially rough given where he actually lands – a place of relative enlightenment, a place where he is open to the world and its many differences, and even grateful for it.
The interval also opens up the audience to discuss the odd tension at the core of End of Summer Time. It's important to acknowledge in this era of dubious media literacy that any playwright, and any fiction writer really, does not necessarily agree with or endorse everything their characters do and say. It would be a mistake to immediately assume that Dickie Hart is a reflection of Roger Hall, or a mouthpiece to communicate Hall's ideas and opinions in the world. The man has 47 plays to his name, reflecting a kaleidoscope of politics, social and otherwise – if they were all soapboxes of his opinions, it's unlikely he would be as successful as he has been.
The context of End of Summer Time also makes this delineation difficult. Hart and Hall are demographically similar characters on the surface; cis straight men of retirement age who live on the North Shore. While it would be a mistake to assume that Hart and Hall share politics and views on the world, it's one that I can imagine an audience making. The fact that End of Summer Time is a solo show makes this even trickier; any voice that might push back against Hart's occasional sexism, occasional racism, and general lack of tolerance for what he's unfamiliar with is filtered through Hart himself, usually in a condescending voice.
On opening night, full of people attending for free, and largely belonging to a younger demographic than the show's target audience, I detected quite a few winces at some of Hart's comments. I wonder if those winces might be replaced by laughs in an audience of ticket-buyers, and whether they'll understand that Hall means for them to be the targets of the jokes, rather than have their worldview confirmed by them.
When I profiled him earlier this month, Hall said that the new generation has a tendency to use the stage as a pulpit for their politics. 'Come along and you'll be better informed and your opinion will change on whatever issue it is. That's not necessarily what it's for – or entertaining!'
Every piece of art contains the politics of its creator, however, intentionally or not. Even if the piece of art is meant solely for entertainment, it is the product of a subjective mind, with its own way of seeing the world. Hall's work, including End of Summer Time, is no different. His plays reflect an understanding of New Zealand that is specific, if not unique, to him. I truly believe that End of Summer Time is more of a critique of Dickie Hart than an endorsement, but I spent far too much of the show wondering if the method of delivery softens that critique to the point of dullness.
But look, Hall knows his audience; he's been writing for them for half a century, and they've shown up in droves in turn. They have grown up with him, from the office workers of Glide Time, to the middle-aged friends of Social Climbers, to the retirees of Last Legs. Broadly speaking, these people have mortgages, not landlords. You might assume, then, that this audience doesn't want to be challenged. Perhaps they don't.
End of Summer Time might be for an audience of Dickie Harts. They exist in our world, walking down our supermarket aisles, and voting in our elections. I can imagine them laughing at many of the jokes, even the ones that brush against the lines of racism, sexism, and general intolerance, if not outright disdain. Inside this show, conservative in both form and delivery, he actually puts up a challenge for that audience. If Dickie Hart can change, if he can look a little bit wider, and a little bit more kindly at the diverse city he lives in, can't they? It's a noble, if idealistic challenge, and I hope that those Dickie Harts can hear it underneath the laughter.
