With a2 Company, you’re in safe hands. In the Arts Centre’s North Quad, performers clad in all-white streetwear greet you and guide you to the Cloisters Studio. The auditorium is relaxed. Running Into the Sun begins, with a song. You are welcome here.
Then it kicks off. Running Into the Sun is advertised, accurately, as a “high octane performance”. It’s a 60-minute burst of energy, put together with expert precision.
The show was first conceived by writer-director-producer-actor Ben Ashby and Long Cloud Youth Theatre back in 2021. Here it’s performed by a2 Company, run by Ashby and Nadiyah Akbar. The script has been updated to reflect our present moment. I could only spot one remnant of that year: a reference to “necessary travel”.
After big wins at the 2024 Melbourne Fringe, the production is on a tour of Aotearoa, with stops in Wānaka, Tāmaki Makaurau, and Te Whanganui-a-Tara in addition to Ōtautahi. It adapts well to the Cloisters Studio, the only snags being a couple of brief microphone issues.
The ensemble, made up of “two actors, a three-piece jazz band and four contemporary dancers”, is well-rehearsed and utterly confident. You can see how much value years of work can add to a production.
Ashby plays meteorology graduate Ash, who’s in a slump after a failed job application. Ash delivers big news to his friend Morris, played to perfection by Ethan Morse, in a dialogue scene that feels like a modern take on The Front Lawn song ‘How You Doing.’
That comparison is one of the highest compliments I can bestow. I adore The Front Lawn. They were a semi-comedic theatrical-musical duo who toured Aotearoa in the late 1980s and early 1990s. Like them, a2 Company are interested in parties, male bonding, advertising, the nuclear family, and most of all, people and their wonderful people-ness. The Front Lawn were a tender Gen X rebellion; Running Into the Sun is big-hearted Gen Z existentialism.
I think anyone would enjoy Running Into the Sun, but Gen Z will feel particularly seen. Finally, a show that asks if our mates are actually getting those vasectomies!
The structure is fluid, with a central storyline branching out into movement and dance sequences. The ensemble is also fluid. The actors dance and the dancers act, with the trio of musicians as their Greek chorus. I’m partial to the saxophone, so my attention is often drawn to the excellent Toby Leman.
The musicians have sparks of connection with the actor-dancers. There’s laughter every time Ashby and Morse check in with Te Ata Kahurangi on drums. Later, a moment of eye contact between Jasmine Susic and double bassist Seth Boy makes me well up. Networks of silent gestures are the engine that keeps theatre going, but they only work when members of an ensemble really listen to each other. I’ve never seen an ensemble listen so much—and so well.
Susic is the bridge connecting the actors to the dancers. She plays Mary with warmth, sensitivity, and a bit of grit. Luke Romero has a jittery, bouncy presence—infinitely watchable. Akbar, a triple threat as dancer, choreographer, and rehearsal director, has a star quality that comes out in full force when she gets on the mic. I could watch her forever.
Since Ashby fills so many creative roles behind Running Into the Sun, I want to make sure I don’t overlook his fantastic acting work. Ash’s good intentions are the moral code of the show, and Ashby takes great care in expressing them. The interplay between Ash and Morris feels both lived-in and unpredictable. In short, it’s great acting.
I want to give a special mention to dancer Alec Katsourakis, who plays Jack in a remarkable two-hander scene. Morris faces Jack, while Jack faces the audience. An offer. Silence. Stillness. Jack holds the tension. Morris holds his tongue. I hold my breath.
Running Into the Sun has an apocalyptic vibe because the world has an apocalyptic vibe. It’s bookended by mentions of the Four Horsemen, with more biblical references in between: a massive flood, a shirtless Last Supper, a pregnant woman named Mary. Things feel hopeless, from the climate crisis to the ongoing genocide of Palestine by Israel. The characters start to crumble.
But with a2 Company, they’re in safe hands, just like the audience is. The finale is a gleeful act of community care. There are ways to comfort each other without living in denial. One of those ways is to see this show.
Run, don’t walk, into the sun.
