Scriptwriter
SKYBLUE, winner of the Best Dramatic Production in the 2013 New Zealand Radio Awards, returns to the airwaves this Sunday 16 June at 3:04pm.
Set in a forensic psychiatric unit, the one-hour drama spends a day at the sharp edge of New Zealand’s mental health system.
The cast includes Tess Jamieson, Jamie McCaskill, Nigel Collins and Mick Rose. SKYBLUE is produced by Jason Te Kare, engineered by Phil Benge, and brought to you by Radio New Zealand National.
The scene is familiar: our Hero Detective’s supervisor – a lieutenant in an American show or a superintendent in a Commonwealth show – having had his arse chewed out by his superior, seeks out our Hero Detective in the bullpen.
Spotted recently on the box:
INT. DETECTIVES’ BULLPEN – DAY
Detectives are scattered about the open-plan office, a hubbub of conversations throughout.
Our Hero Detective’s supervisor, THE SUPERINTENDENT, strides through the entrance:
THE SUPERINTENDENT
Where’s Hero Detective?
RANDOM DETECTIVE
He’s on a call, sir.
THE SUPERINTENDENT
(fumes)
Get him to see me when he comes in.
RANDOM DETECTIVE
Yes, sir.
As The Superintendent heads for his office, the Random Detective turns to a colleague:
RANDOM DETECTIVE
(sing-song)
Someone’s in trouble!
I was like, WTF? What happened to this oldie-but-goodie:
INT. DETECTIVES’ BULLPEN – DAY
Detectives are scattered about the open plan office, a hubbub of conversations throughout.
Our Hero Detective’s supervisor, THE SUPERINTENDENT, strides through the entrance:
THE SUPERINTENDENT
Where. The fuck. IS HE?
The bullpen is silenced, its occupants afraid to move or speak.
THE SUPERINTENDENT
I want him in my office NOW!
The bullpen springs into action as --
-- The Superintendent continues to his office and SLAMS the door behind him.
Sure it’s a cliche that’s been parodied endlessly, but at least it doesn’t look and sound like a bunch of school kids hearing that Mr So-and-So is on the warpath.
At the end of Frank Miller and David Mazzuchelli’s Daredevil: Born Again, our hero, broken in the first act of the story and now painfully reconstituted as a stronger, more focused, more realistic hero and human being, walks into the figurative sunset with the love of his life.
I stopped reading the series at that point. I knew if I continued, it would just go on and on and on: there would be more villains, more life-obstacles – more of the same, but different.
Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever been a big fan of ongoing serials. My comic collection is made up largely of one-off’s, mini-series and trade paperbacks. As for the viewing library, even though I was a massive fan of Law & Order, it’s taken quite a conscious effort to get myself to buy up to the sixth season of the show, as opposed to the complete runs I have of The Shield, The West Wing, and The Wire.
I think real life is exciting and ongoing enough, thank you.
Spotted recently on the box:
INT. POLICE INTERVIEW ROOM – TIMELESS
Our HERO DETECTIVE studies his SCUMBAG PERPETRATOR from across the METAL TABLE.
SCUMBAG PERPETRATOR
... Okay. I’ll talk.
Our Hero Detective reaches across to the RECORDING DEVICE and pushes the ‘Rec’ button.
HERO DETECTIVE
I’ll just record this.
In a post-Law & Order age – in the too-small shadow of the short-lived Interrogation, even – shouldn’t that scene have played like this?
INT. POLICE INTERVIEW ROOM – TIMELESS
Our HERO DETECTIVE studies his SCUMBAG PERPETRATOR from across the METAL TABLE.
SCUMBAG PERPETRATOR
... Okay. I’ll talk.
OUT ON our Hero Detective pushing the ‘Rec’ button on the RECORDING DEVICE.
The Goodbye My Feleni team have acknowledged and thanked those who’ve helped make the production a reality.
But there’s been a group missing from all our backslapping – the following list is not complete:
Those marked with an asterisk ‘*’ are those who are known to have served but are not in official records.
Goodbye My Feleni is for those who went before us.
Yes: it takes a village.
I’m sure you’re sick to death of the faces of the production. I’m pretty sure you’ll soon be sick to the back teeth about the principals behind the production.
This post is about those who helped make it happen:
To youse all: Fa’afetai tele lava.
Okay, so The Goddess and I snuck down to the capital for some time-in with cafes and restaurants and a wee bit of shopping, and Goodbye My Feleni was awarded the 2013 Adam Award for Best New Pasifika Play.
Which meant that I missed a day-long rehearsal which I should have been apprehensive about missing. But you know what? At the preceding rehearsal, the directors and actors generously granted my wishes of workshopping all remaining scenes and providing some audio for a teaser which I knocked together below. And I’ve finally come to understand the method to the directors’ ah, method.
Which is a typically long-winded way of saying that whilst I was tucking into a ribeye steak (rare) and/or churros for breakfast, I spared nary a thought for pre-production because it’s in good hands. Seriously.
So yeah. The awards. I shared space with fellow winners Paul Buckley, Renae Maihi, Philip Braithwaite and Hannah McKie. Big ups to Playmarket for the event – effervescent director Murray Lynch, the sartorially elegant Salesi Le’ota, and ever imperturbable Stuart Hoar. And a wonderful chat was had with Circa manager Linda Wilson who let slip that Circa Theatre – just like the Basement Theatre – has a risk-share model for incoming productions; something to bring up with Producer Jenni when the season is over.
Our final week of rehearsals commenced tonight. In my absence, lines have been cut, props have been introduced that are not in the script, and concepts have been introduced to me that I have difficulty visualising – but you know what? They all seem to work.
As always, the level of achievement I get in this collaboration is not what I expected.
It’s exceeded.
You think you’ve got plenty of time, you actually do have plenty of time, and then the production crosses the rubicon and you realise that opening night is less than three weeks away – that’s less than the total number of digits on your body, which means that it’s not far away at all.
Yes: panic and hysteria are never far away from this writer.
Yes: this writer has full confidence in the team his producer has thrown together – haven’t you been reading his rehearsal reports? He thinks they’re just awesome.
So you’re wondering what the hell my problem is. I’ve attended most of the rehearsals so far, catching the odd word like provocation and motivation here and there, and the directors and actors haven’t been referring all that much to the script. Y’know, the 95-pages I slaved over, foregoing countless hours of Call of Duty and Left 4 Dead, a belated catch up with The Sopranos and Deadwood.
I think the real reason for my anxiety is that I’m experiencing in real-time and -life the once vicarious thrill and frisson of being in the middle of something bigger, something of which I can only discern a small part – not unlike the jollies I get with each rewatching of The Wire or laboriously rereading of my Alan Moore collection.
Yeah, that feeling.
It’s a little scary. But it’s exciting. And the esprit de corps of the team is positively cuddly.
Bring on the final fortnight.
