There is a Werewolf among us! As the audience of Werewolf files in past CCTV surveillance, then a security door, followed by a pop-up encampment screening tent similar to a Covid vaccination drive-through, they enter Safe House 656, a type of quarantine zone surrounded by a makeshift metallic backdrop.
The door is then closed shut. The lock-in begins. Literally, any exit is terminal to your involvement or witness to this event. The infected (those outside the theatre) have a week of attenuation whilst we sit that week out condensed into 70 minutes in the theatre, with three uncontaminated, ill equipped and somewhat contrarian wardens – what could possibly go wrong?
Well, something obviously has gone wrong. There is a Werewolf among us! This is the premise of the late 90’s game, Werewolf, which is itself a minimally adapted version of the game, Mafia, initially devised as a psychology experiment at Moscow State University in 1986.
A much more modern derivation, Deception, is alleged to be the inspiration sparking the creative minds at Wellington’s contemporary performance company, Binge Culture, to craft this work whilst using its predecessor’s title.
Whatever the origin may be, as with all social deduction games, where it can lead and the permutations within the journey are what matter.
The tone of the play adjusts in accordance with the interaction of the audience. A member of the public may be particularly on form and trigger a much funnier performance, but no involvement is so critical that the direction of the play will career off track and never reach the evening’s usual station.
Despite there being an expressed invitation for audience participation, there is no explicit requirement to interact. This may be bait for someone to see if derailment is possible, but the setup is loose and does not utilise the game beyond its premise and day-night pattern.
It is not a murder each night concept. You are not assigned a specific role, nor is the unique card placed on every seat as you arrive a tool to generate multi-permutational journeys or destinations.
These cards contain useful information. Most are as useful as Ashley Bloomfield’s daily pandemic updates and offer similar reminiscent phraseology from that time, now drawing out wry laughter.
Some of the cards accelerate a plot point, but not one hinging on the audience member delivering it or any following interpretation, ingenuity or deduction.
Really the cards are arbitrary, a little gimmicky, whimsical and amusing ruses utilising a new face to deliver a conspiracy without backing or share the authority of a cousin’s hearsay which is now washed over the public and liberally affirmed – perhaps forming a new collective belief!
As the audience speaks up, the three wardens react, and allow the form of the play to feel ad-libbed though ultimately the daily processions are guided.
Joel Baxendale, Stella Reid and Hannah Kelly play the wardens. They are consistent to their characterisations and accentuate specific ideals regarding public safety and protection.
They are also casual yet retain a skilled and seamless improv-control of the production. It is not surprising that this work was well received at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival a couple of years ago as it competently carries a niche and daring approach as part of its appeal which spills onto its audience – infects them even.
As a marginal caveat to the audience lack of functional involvement, 8 are actually given roles. Their roles are really only time filler and form the routine check at the beginning of each day, mimicking the often-ineffective practices of HR, including health and safety, head counts, wellbeing monitors and technical support.
The resulting tête-à-tête moments drew regular laughter from the accommodating opening night audience – at least by day!
The night format within the play is a juxtaposition guided by jumpy mechanics, almost complete darkness, effective torch use, sound effects and frightful flashes of what you think you might have seen.
One does not hear an air condition unit switch on, but the sensation of its effect spreads a chill amidst the containment zone, and the group no longer feel safe.
You might seek the comfort of a speculative and private whodunnit conversation with your neighbour as to the identity of the Werewolf from among the cast or suspicious audience plants present, but undoubtedly the maximum enjoyment experienceable is a direct product of the volume of audience members willing to be fully involved by day and observe each night unashamed of their own screams!
Many shrieks accompanied the nights from all the ages present. As an approximation the youngest attendee was 12 years-old, which is the likely lower limit of potential over sensitivity to the content.
Nightmares could be generated by some of the imaging, and the nature of the ending will not leave some settled, but the overarching production is one of comedy heavily outweighing any terror. Is that ultimately disappointing?
Well, disappointment is generated through expectation. If you expect to be a part of a psychological game to test your cunning, deduction and wit; then yes, you will be disappointed. It is not strictly social deduction and contains no competitive pay off.
If you expect to be tenuously involved within a slightly out of the box slice of light Kiwi comedy, are appealed to a few unexpected jumps and scares and are happy to share this experience with the variation of culture that happenstance brings together; then no, you will not be disappointed.
After all, there are a myriad of contactless social initiatives already flowing through the veins of modern culture. Is it not refreshing to briefly interact with some strangers within Safe House 656 where L stands for Lycanthropy?
Giles Wynn
Werewolf is presented by Auckland Arts Festival and plays until 8 March 2026. Tickets and more info HERE.