Simply put, Meremere is a mem­oir come to life. I don’t feel qual­i­fied to ‘review’ the piece and the rich lay­ers of cul­ture, his­tory, iden­tity, and art con­tained with­in. It’s not quite dance, nor a film or a play – there’s a raw­ness that will appeal to those well-versed in the per­form­ing arts as much as those who aren’t ‘theatre people.’

Bell’s story meanders, not entirely seam­lessly, but always authen­tic­ally, between com­edy and drama, whimsy and pro­fund­ity, as he recounts his jour­ney from Aotearoa to the United States and back again. The nar­rat­ive has not been san­it­ised for our com­fort, and those con­front­ing moments about race and dis­ab­il­ity will haunt you. 

Meremere has all the flaw­less tech­nic­al pro­duc­tion of a well-fun­ded stage pro­duc­tion, but the gritty pas­sion of a solo con­fes­sion­al. I mean that in the best way pos­sible – there’s some­thing to impress every­one here. Move­ment of the Human, the com­pany behind Rushes at the NZ Fest­iv­al earli­er this year, has done an incred­ible job com­ple­ment­ing Bell’s story with light, pro­jec­tion, and sound. The music is so per­fectly timed to the move­ment that it’s easy to for­get there is a com­poser stand­ing there, mak­ing it all hap­pen live. And the pro­jec­tion is a work of art unto itself, adding an enthralling lay­er to an incred­ible story. 

See­ing the love and admir­a­tion between all of the col­lab­or­at­ors on open­ing night really drove home how much this story means to those bring­ing it to life. There was a lot of love in that room, and it was a priv­ilege to be sur­roun­ded by it. Some things defy descrip­tion or review, and Meremere is def­in­itely one of them. 

Meremere is a poignant remind­er that there’s always more lying beneath the sur­face. How many oth­er beau­ti­ful stor­ies have we over­looked because of our assump­tions about the nar­rat­or? 

Meremere is on at Circa Theatre until 30 June.