
Think you don't like opera? Let La boheme change your mind
2. Drama without missing a single word
One of the biggest hesitations around going to your first opera is the understandable thought that you wouldn't have the foggiest what anyone is saying. But NZ Opera performances have subtitles projected above the stage, translating everything we sing into English. You can even get the translation directly to your device in Braille or Chinese. Think of it like a foreign film, but with an orchestra - and incredible singing.
- Baritone Hadleigh Adams, who plays Colline
3. One seat, infinite art
This opera is an opportunity to see multiple art forms in one sitting. There is nothing quite like bringing a group of artists of multiple disciplines (instrumentalists, singers, actors, directors, designers and more) together to tell one epic tale that has transcended the test of time and still leaves a lasting impact on its viewers. The opera is not just a night out but an opportunity to go on a journey - all from the comfort of a plush theatre seat.
- Soprano Elena Perroni, who plays Mimì
4. Drama and shenanigans
This opera has more drama than Shortland St, more shenanigans than Police 10-7 and a cafe that would outshine any Māngere Bridge cafe.
- Baritone Benson Wilson, who plays Schaunard
5. The death you won't hear coming
If you think deaths in opera are endless, loud and unbelievable, so did Puccini! In La bohème, he wrote a naturalistic death. In fact, we only realise it's happened after the fact. It's a brilliant sleight of hand.
- Brad Cohen, conductor of the Auckland season
6. Your new favourite troublemaker: Musetta
My character is the type of person who causes drama if they are not the centre of attention. Musetta exploits her sexuality, rages and lies to win whatever she desires. She has intense feelings for her sometimes-lover, the penniless artist Marcello, but they never last long together. In the final act, tragedy shocks her into feeling a vulnerable, deeper love for him, making this role a wonderful journey to take and a favourite for sopranos to sing. And her drama-queen antics are next level.
- Soprano Emma Pearson, who plays Musetta
7. Love, loss and lots of laughs
Come for the romance, stay for the freezing attic, catchy tunes and suspiciously sudden coughing. With bohemian banter, accidental arson, and an opera chorus big enough to raise the roof, who knew tragedy could be this much fun?
- Bruno Ravella, director
8. Real life meets live magic
What I love about this opera is how grounded it feels - the characters are messy, in love, and completely recognisable. The design feels lived in and accessible, a reflection of a world not so different from our own. I'm so excited to move into the Kiri Te Kanawa Theatre, as I hear the singers every day in rehearsal, but that first run with the orchestra in the venue always stops me in my tracks. Once we layer in the technical elements, suddenly we're in the goosebump zone that exists only in live theatre.
- Chanelle Muirhead, stage manager
9. It's basically a romcom
If you believe in love, you should come. If you believe in friendship, you should come. If you're sick of Netflix, you should come. It's the Love Actually of opera, and who doesn't love Love Actually?
- Baritone Samuel Dundas, who plays Marcello
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


Otago Daily Times
9 hours ago
- Otago Daily Times
Band set to make noise in China
Members of Dunedin band Dale Kerrigan (from left) Josh Nicholls, Joel Field, Connor Blackie and Shlee Nicholls will embark on an 11-show tour across China next month. Photo: supplied Getting their lyrics vetted by the Chinese government was among the hurdles a Dunedin band faced in taking their music to the global stage. Noise rock four-piece Dale Kerrigan announced last week they would be embarking on an 11-show tour across China in September and October — including in Shanghai, Chongqing and two shows in Chengdu. Guitarist Joel Field said he had never been to China before, and still did not know what he was in for. "My small New Zealand brain cannot comprehend how big and complicated these cities are going to be." The tour had been about a year in the making. An overseas promoter contacted the band after watching them perform at last year's Camp A Low Hum music festival. Planning the tour had involved "far more organisation than Dale Kerrigan can handle, to be honest", he said. "At the time, I didn't even have a passport, so we got on to that super quick. "We had to apply for permits, so we sent in all of our lyrics to get them approved by the Chinese Communist Party and make sure they were all good, and they were." They also sent in videos of them performing all their songs before they could apply for visas, but discovered two members of the band were not actually permanent New Zealand citizens. "So the whole process to get all of our proper documentation together has been quite a nightmare, but it's going well now." The tour marked the international debut of the Dunedin band. Formed in 2020, Field said their music was influenced by 1990s acts such as Sonic Youth, as well as contemporary New Zealand bands such as Ringlets. Their third record HEAVY GREASY was released last month exclusively on Bandcamp. Every band fantasised about going on an international tour, the expectation in New Zealand being this would happen in Australia first, he said. Their music was "very hectic", "extremely loud" and "in your face". "I know there's heaps of people in China, so surely some of them like it." He hoped to "turn some people right off" but that other audience members would be "real keen" on their music. "I reckon there's going to be some people standing in the back, still very confused at what we're doing, but I think there'll be some people up front running around and headbanging."


NZ Herald
10 hours ago
- NZ Herald
Book of the day: Reacher: The Stories Behind the Stories
Tom Cruise: His Reacher movies paid for author Lee Child's English country house. Photo / Supplied New Zealand is, as Lee Child says, 'the world capital of Reacher madness'. Per capita we buy more Jack Reacher novels than anywhere else. As Child said in one TV interview, New Zealanders probably like his giant vigilante hero because he's a bit like the archetypal Kiwi: 'quiet, undemonstrative, not


Otago Daily Times
2 days ago
- Otago Daily Times
A night down an imagined memory lane
The Church of St Mary and All Saints in Derbyshire is a typical example of medieval English ecclesiastical architecture — but for its curiously twisted spire. Legend has it that Satan himself was soaring over Chesterfield, and feeling tired, landed upon the spire to rest his hairy wings. Perched there, he recoiled in horror upon seeing a virgin bride emerging from the church below. In his shock and incredibility, Old Nick twisted the spire before vanishing skyward, unable to abide such unexpected purity in the East Midlands. A postcard displaying a photograph of this spire, emblazoned with the words "I Was Dancing In The Lesbian Bar", was my first introduction to Holly Redford Jones, a Manchester-based musician and comedian. Originally from Chesterfield, Holly has decamped to Edinburgh for the month in order to perform a nightly "love letter to Sapphic institutions of a bygone era" — her contribution to this year's Fringe Festival. I had no idea what to expect of Holly's show — in fact, I didn't even know I was attending until several hours beforehand, when my friend Dani, swayed by some rather persuasive Instagram advertisements, impulsively bought us tickets. I'm glad she did. I Was Dancing in the Lesbian Bar is a cabaret-style concoction of comedy, music and queer storytelling, structured loosely around a set of curated songs and personal reflections. At its core, the show is a love letter to queer spaces of the past — the lesbian bars that once offered sanctuary and solidarity, now increasingly displaced by gentrification, commercial homogeneity and cultural amnesia. I spoke with Holly a few days after the performance to explore the inspirations and influences behind her work. Describing herself as "a musician first and foremost", Holly's passion for music is evident throughout the show as she deftly switches from anecdote to history lesson to song. But it was the pandemic, coupled with a bout of creative frustration and an encounter with a certain Netflix special, that nudged her towards comedy: "Watching Hannah Gadsby's Nanette was a turning point," she told me. "It was the first time I felt really represented — it was so honest; so much of it resonated with me." Fittingly, the show's title came from a pub gig: Holly had been performing covers in the same pub — the Bottle & Thyme in Chesterfield — for several years, when late one night, spurred on by a "let's see what happens" attitude, she decided to play Jonathan Richman's cult classic. The reaction surprised her. "Much to my delight, people loved it. I found this inspiring in my hometown as it's not a particularly progressive place. Having people liking the song and requesting it felt very powerful, having grown up there and not being able to be openly LGBT." And so, I Was Dancing in the Lesbian Bar became not just a staple in her setlist, but a point of reflection: why did this unapologetic celebration of queer spaces resonate so deeply, even in Chesterfield? The Bongo Club, where Holly's show is staged under the auspices of the Underbelly entertainment company, is no lesbian institution. But, having frequented its sticky floors and smoky corners countless times during my undergraduate exchange in Edinburgh, I can vouch for its queer potential. It's no stretch to imagine it transformed, albeit briefly, into a lesbian bar of Holly's own making. Holly is clear-eyed about the tensions that come with nostalgia, noting that cherished queer spaces have often been exclusionary. "The hardest thing for me to write," she says, "was critiquing lesbian bars in the past as exclusionary spaces ... as a white performer, I might have gotten in but loads of people wouldn't." Holly's show takes care to be trans-inclusive, though she admits that's not always easy in a room full of strangers: "People might take offence ... but it's also important to create a safe space ... even if it kills the mood." At a time when trans people in Scotland and the UK more widely face relentless hostility and the systematic eradication of their rights, this commitment to trans inclusion is both politically necessary and emotionally generous. One aspect of the show I particularly enjoyed was its rereading of cultural history through a Sapphic lens. I learned many new things — Dusty Springfield, for example, was a closeted lesbian. Who knew? (Apparently many people, but not me.) Holly riffs on the irony of Dusty having had to croon numerous love songs to fictional men, and wonders aloud how many "difficult women" throughout history (think Virginia Woolf or Patricia Highsmith) were simply closeted and furious: "I wonder how much this was due to having to hide an integral part of themselves, having to constantly check themselves." These reflections are never delivered as lectures, however, but are peppered between songs and comedic episodes. I Was Dancing in the Lesbian Bar is also a deeply personal show, replete with anecdotes from Holly's life in Chesterfield, with its infamous "Big Tesco" and the council's hilarious, inscrutable embrace of the Crooked Spire motif — slapped indiscriminately on wheelie bins, vape shops and football stadiums. The twisted spire appears throughout the show as a symbol of both local identity and accidental queerness. In our post-show conversation, Holly recalls a Facebook group for "mums of gay children of Chesterfield", in which one earnest mum (badly) photoshopped a rainbow erupting from the spire. "They've gone too far," someone spluttered in the comment section. Holly grins when she tells me this: "I knew my show would upset men like that." Growing up queer in a less-than-welcoming town, Holly found safety and identity through music. "It's nice to have a thing you're good at if you're different in a small town like that," she says. "Being good at guitar felt like a good identity — other than being different." Although she originally planned on writing new music for the show, Holly found herself instead drawn to reinterpretation: "I was over-analysing the songs I was writing ... It felt more creative to take existing songs and think about how they could be reinterpreted." From Dusty Springfield to Steps, the show's soundtrack is funny, eclectic and emotionally resonant. But this isn't musical comedy a la Tim Minchin or the Flight of the Conchords. The songs chosen — and Holly's rich, unshowy voice — complement the humour and personal reflections without veering into outright parody or pastiche. Gerry Rafferty's Right Down the Line is Holly's favourite to perform: gentle, romantic, reimagined as a woman singing to a woman. A highlight for me is a raucous reworking of the Ghostbusters theme that now includes the line "Who you gonna call? LESBIANS!" chanted gleefully by the crowd. Like Chesterfield's crooked spire, I Was Dancing in the Lesbian Bar is an idiosyncratic, irreverent and strangely beautiful show. Holly's "lesbian bar" might not exist outside a few scattered hours in a dark, too-warm Edinburgh venue, but it's undeniably a real place, made of memories, humour, music and hope. — Jean Balchin is an ODT columnist who has started a new life in Edinburgh.