On the Upside Down of the World

The Maori word for mother, “whaea”, is pronounced as “fire”. In Arthur Meek’s play, based on the memoirs of 19th-century New Zealand settler Mary Ann Martin, it’s an aptly elemental association for the maternal role. Motherhood in this world is also likely to burst into flame, leaving behind burnt fingers and scorched earth.

For Mary, wife of the first Chief Justice of New Zealand, motherhood means both the raising of a young Maori boy and the fostering of an entire nation. It’s also presented as one of the few options available to her as a woman and one that she seizes and subverts with both hands, defying the expectation that she remain quietly in the background.

The play’s critique of colonialism is not as delicately sketched as its comments on restrictive Victorian womanhood, and it eventually opts for a bluntly stated message about the impact of empire building on New Zealand and its native population. Less direct, though more uncomfortable is its narrator’s parental attitude towards the Maori people, one that is at once protective and patronising.

Meeks’ monologue is engagingly delivered by Laurel Devenie, who adeptly conjures the rich backdrop of Mary’s life in New Zealand and the wide range of supporting characters. Tony Rabbit’s ladder-cluttered design, however, feels a little superfluous, creating an imposing atmosphere that highlights the play’s essential lack of theatricality. Interesting as Meeks’ play is, it’s hard to shake the suspicion that it, like the memoirs that inspired it, would be just as happy on the page.