KŌPŪ
Written by Tuakoi Ohia
Directed and produced by Amber Curreen
Staged at The Court Theatre
Until 26 July
Duration: 75 minutes
Reviewed by Kineta Knight
From the first moment, it is clear that KŌPŪ is not theatre in the conventional sense. It is ceremony. It is reclamation. It is storytelling as spiritual practice. Delivered bilingually in te reo Māori and English, the production makes no concessions for monolingual audiences. Instead, it invites everyone into te ao Māori on Māori terms, creating a space that feels sacred, authentic, and proudly unfiltered.
We’re told to “check your white feminism at the door” as writer and performer Tuakoi Ohia leads us through a history lesson on the origin of the word ‘woman’ and that wahine is not the correct translation and goes on to explain why.
The narrative flows more like a constellation than a linear plot, with each vignette acting as a shining point of story that, when connected, forms a powerful whole. These stories range from the mythic to the personal, such as reflections on motherhood, grief, colonisation, identity, and the quiet strength of intergenerational resilience. Each moment pulses with meaning, layered in symbolism, sound, and spiritual resonance.
What makes KŌPŪ especially moving is its intentional intimacy. There are moments of deep stillness, where silence is as potent as dialogue.
The script has a bit of everything. It’s funny, risque, adult-themed, and has plenty of teachable moments. But it’s the performing wāhine that bring the unbeatable talent and entertainment to the stage.
The cast of Te Huamanuka Luiten-Apirana, Te Arohanui Korewha, Brady Peeti, Jane Leonard, Te Ohorere Williams together with Ohia has one goal: “if her teke (vagina) could talk it would sound like this”.
Each performer transitions seamlessly between characters, shifting from solemn to humorous, from the deeply reverent to the playfully rebellious. Their chemistry is undeniable, and their trust in one another allows for bold risk-taking on stage. At times they are orators, at times dancers, and at other times vessels through which the wisdom of their tīpuna seems to flow directly.
The multitalented performers weave live music, performance, poetry and poi to share stories from generations of teke.
The set is rather striking. Designer John Verryt’s gauze screens offer silhouette glimpses, which worked well with Jane Hakaraia’s lighting design, and were a good canvas for audio visual elements.
It took me a moment to really reflect on this piece, at times wondering what I’d just watched – including, but not limited to, dancing teke, but the more I thought about it, the more it makes me want to see it again.
