Theatre Review: Dust

Words by Janhavi Gosavi (she/her) 

Dust was the inaugural play by Dusty Productions, a new company founded by VUW Theatre graduates Tom Smith and Jimmy Williamson. It was a devised comedy starring Tom and Jimmy, alongside Andre Moffat, Ben Espiner, Clarke Telfer, Ethan Hahunga, and Zac Hobbis. The season ran at Bats Theatre from 17-20 August.

A flat of seven boys wake up on a tragically dusty Tuesday morning to find that the ruckus they caused the night before is resulting in their imminent eviction. Except … none of them can remember what happened. The Hangover meets Welly lad culture as the cast scrambles to piece the puzzle together and hold on to their flat. 

The set was minimal: a couch and a coffee table sat in centre stage, surrounded by a smattering of red solo cups and general trash. The walls of the ‘flat’ were adorned with Wakachangi posters and a Hurricanes flag.

The cast was rather large for the small theatre space they were in, but the actors did their best to create unique personalities for every character. I particularly enjoyed sweetly co-dependent Tom, driven by the need to keep his friends united under one roof. But my favourite character was Andre, a feral, wanky, and articulate weirdo who turns into his alter ego “The Beast'', a sage-like mystical being that had me in tears. 

The script slapped and the quick fire dialogue was very Amy Sherman-Palladino-esque. There was banter that bounced between actors like a ping pong match, slapstick physical comedy, and quippy one-liners. Most importantly, their humour reeked of Kiwiana and lad culture. Ethan muttered “kia kaha” to himself to soothe his anger issues, the lads exclusively referred to their drug dealer as “old mate” or “the bro” because no one actually knew his name, and they even accidentally called their female landlord “mum”. One of my favourite gags was when Tom stopped mid-spiel to ask for a “line”, leading the audience to believe he had forgotten his dialogue, only for his flatmate to present him with a line of meth. 

Occasionally, punchlines got lost in the hubbub of laughter. I do appreciate that instead of writing a play full of throwaway jokes, the writers set up jokes early on in the play, which come into effect down the track. However, I could have done without half of the meta-jokes which broke the fourth wall and addressed that the characters were, in fact, living within a play. 

The play joked about peer pressure, substance abuse, toxic masculinity, and the objectification of women, but it did so with critical self-awareness. Dust was full of heart because we, the audience, know these kinds of boys: the lads who don’t always say the right thing but mean well and know how to have a good time. 

Dust was the kind of low budget, high quality, intimate black box theatre that Aotearoa is known for. It proved that all you need to make excellent theatre is actors who lead with conviction and writers who have a thorough understanding of what makes their intended audience tick. 

The lads may have been dusty, but Dust was fresh as.