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The Honolulu Advertiser
Posted on: Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Maori love story sings in 'Aroha'

By Joseph T. Rozmiarek
Special to The Advertiser

'HE REO AROHA'

The ARTS at Marks Garage

2 p.m. tomorrow, Thursday; 4 p.m. Sunday; 8 p.m. Wednesday, Thursday; and 10 p.m. Friday

$25

528-0506, www.hawaiitheatre.com

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There's a moment in "He Reo Aroha (Words of Love)" that effectively tells you all you need to know about this two-person Maori musical drama.

Kaia, the young woman, is singing a sweet, but prosaic version of "Blue Moon" when Pascoe, the young man, takes her guitar and begins to sing a Maori love song. Courting her with her own instrument, he entices her to join him in a lovely harmony.

The two-person Maori musical by Miria George and Jamie McCaskill combines drama and music, with songs in English and Maori. It stars McCaskill and Kali Kopae and asks the perennial question of whether it's possible to go home again.

The action begins on a London stage, with Kaia asking audience members to raise their hands if they are in love and, if they're not, whether they're trying to find their way back. "Finding her way back" takes Kaia home to New Zealand, where she has left her boyfriend Pascoe working on his family's fishing boat.

Director Hone Kouka keeps the action crisp and sprightly, instantaneously snapping the two performers into new scenes and new characters.

McCaskill pulls on a knit cap and immediately transforms from Kaia into her boyfriend's fishing companion, rocking against the waves on a small boat. Kopae takes two steps and changes from Pascoe into his girlfriend's confidant, smoothing lipstick with a pinkie and applying mascara with an invisible brush.

But about an hour into the 90-minute production, the audience has figured out the morphing characters and locales. That's when the production hits its creative wall and becomes a simple love conflict. Can Kaia and Pascoe jettison their differences and merge their divergent paths into a common road?

The show is over before it can become too badly swamped by its underlying melodrama and some strong production elements sustain audience attention.

The stage is effectively set. Three guitars stand ready, framed by their open cases and a couple of wooden folding chairs. Visible lights and sound equipment complete the picture and promise the music to come.

McCaskill and Kopae are excellent in the rapid fire transitions and segue easily from song to dialogue and back again. Their pantomime of a storm at sea is convincing and the simple act of facing two chairs toward each other effectively transforms them into a rowboat.

They also turn in believable characterizations — both tough, but vulnerable, independent people who come to realize their interdependent need.