Close-up of a circular sticker with black handwritten text around the edge and a red graphic in the center, set against a red background.

BATS

Making a place for the work we wanted to see.

A man with dark hair and a smile, wearing a blue patterned shirt, is sitting against a beige wall. He is holding a beer bottle and appears to be smiling or laughing. His legs are crossed with orange pants, white socks, and brown shoes. The flooring is wooden, and a person's blue clothing is visible at the bottom of the image.

Simon E

1989

Simon Elson and I took over a shabby, semi-derelict venue-for-hire in Kent Terrace, Wellington, and transformed it into a professional theatre with a distinctive artistic identity.

We didn't set out to build an institution. We wanted to make a place for the kind of theatre we wanted to see: high quality, inexpensive, entertaining, accessible, new and experimental. There wasn't really a place for that work, so we redefined what BATS could be.

I had known the building since I was ten years old.

A child playing a violin, wearing a paper hat with black pom-poms, indoors with a woman standing behind. The woman has long hair and is wearing glasses and a patterned shirt.

In 1975, I appeared in my father's production of Goldoni's The Venetian Twins at what was then called Unity Theatre.

I played the violin in the show.

I also slept in the props room under the stairs.

A young man wearing sunglasses and a black leather jacket riding a scooter on a construction site with unfinished buildings in the background.

In the mid ’80s I performed there as a young actor, and as a Drama School student.

In 1988 I returned to the building with Simon Elson.

That makes BATS a particularly important thread in my life.

I was there as a child, came back as a young theatre-maker, and eventually helped create the institution that would occupy the building until the present day.

POSSIBILITY

Black and white photo of a room with large portrait paintings of a man's face on two canvas. In the foreground, there's a small framed photo on the floor, a ladder, and a bicycle with a large tire. To the right, there is a lounge chair, and the background appears to be a dark room or studio space.
A large black and white portrait of a child's face, likely part of an outdoor art installation, with a ladder and some chairs in front of it.
Black and white mural of a woman's face on a wall, with art supplies, chairs, and a geometric sculpture nearby.

When I think about BATS, I remember the smells before almost anything else.

Dust, cask wine soaked into old carpets and paint.

Later there was the smell of rum-toffee coffee from our sponsors, Robert Harris, and cigarettes. Sets were constantly being painted in the auditorium, and after every show the stage area had to be repainted black.

It was shabby, but it felt like possibility.

The theatre had 92 seats and a perfect rake. The acoustics were extraordinary: you could hear an actor whisper. And because it was small, we could do things that larger theatres couldn't.

TWO SIMONS

Simon Elson and I became friends through theatre.

He was a technician, set and lighting designer and builder who had worked extensively in the UK, including with The People Show and at the King's Head Theatre in Islington.

I had just trained as an actor.

Two men standing in front of a large lit letter 'A' with bulbs, inside a room with warm lighting and stairs visible in the background. One man is smiling, wearing glasses, a dark blazer, and a black shirt. The other man is looking at the camera, also wearing glasses, with a suit jacket, shirt, and a scarf.

We shared a sense of humour, a taste in music and a frustration with mainstream New Zealand theatre.

We liked The Cure, The Smiths, The The and The Young Ones.

Me and Simon E, BATS foyer, 2015

More importantly, we shared a belief that if the kind of theatre we wanted didn't have a place, we weren't afraid to make our own.

Our ambitions were different. Simon wanted to establish and manage his own theatre. I wanted somewhere I could direct the kind of theatre I wanted to make. Those ambitions turned out to fit together remarkably well.

I could write the proposal, articulate the vision and talk to funders.

Simon could design and build the place.

We spent long sessions in pubs developing the proposal that would become our pitch to funders, sponsors and anyone else we needed to convince.

Eventually we became known as “the two Simons.” Or Simon B and Simon E. Our company was called Nomis Productions.

Simon Backwards

MAKING THE PLACE

A man with a beard and gray blazer standing in a dimly lit hallway, looking down with his hands in his pockets, next to a cane, with patterned wallpaper on the wall behind him.

When we took over the lease, the theatre had become almost derelict.

Simon set about physically transforming it. I dealt with administration, fundraising and presenting the case for what we were trying to create.

Once BATS opened, Simon was the person who was always there: programming, dealing with artists, organising volunteers, running the accounts, fixing things and building things.

I was increasingly making work.

It was an extraordinary partnership because neither of us could have done it alone.

Simon E in BATS Foyer 1988

An empty room with yellow walls and a long counter with mirrors and chairs. There are signs on the wall indicating fire safety, with one sign reading 'use the ashtray' and another 'FIRE Extinguisher' pointing to the right. Various objects and wires are scattered around, and there is a door and a window in the background.

BATS dressing room 1988

A man with a beard and dark hair standing behind a counter in a small shop or snack stand, with various items on the counter and a larger sign in the background advertising white wines. Another person with dark, curly hair wearing a plaid shirt is partially visible in the foreground on the left side of the image.

BATS bar. Simon Rayner and Simon Elson

I learned from Simon how to coil an extension cable.

How to plaster.

And how to drive a dream.

A young man with blonde hair, wearing a green jacket and black boots, sitting at a retro diner booth with red and white seating. There is a green lamp hanging above him, and photos of various interior scenes are displayed on the wall behind him.

Me in refurbished foyer 1989

A PLACE TO TRY

BATS gave artists a place to try things that were unlikely to be programmed elsewhere: work that was risky, practitioners who were unknown, and ideas that didn't quite fit anywhere else.

Poster advertising the play 'Lice' by Ken Duncan and Rebecca Rodden, showing a black and white image of two women with identical faces and dark hair, dressed in patterned clothing, with a purple textured background and various blocks of text.

It made it relatively easy for a company to mount a show. The theatre provided box-office systems, equipment and technical support. The hire was set at 15% of gross box office, meaning BATS shared the risk with the companies using it.

Poster for the play "Naked to the Sun" presented by The Eclectic Co, starring Harriet Crampton, in Manfred Karge's "Bats Theatre," directed by Simon Bennett. The poster features black and white imagery with pink and white text, including show dates October 23 to November 4 at 8 PM, and a contact number 849-507.

This model mattered.

It meant the theatre had a reason to help the artists succeed.

And over time, something else developed:

A community.

Poster for the play 'Blue Sky Boys,' presented by Wilder Productions, written by Ken Duncan, featuring Timothy Balme, Michael Galvin, Emily Perkins, Stephanie Creed, Colin Kitchingman, Peter McCallum, directed by Simon Bennett, running from June 14 to July 2, with a limited season, contains rock 'n' roll and graphic scenes of sibling rivalry, warning sign, and a blue-tinted photo of cast members.

People who had worked at BATS moved on into the wider theatre and arts world. They carried the experience with them.

If you'd worked at BATS, you knew.

You were family.

WHEN IT WORKED

Black and white photo of a group of seven people standing in a line on a stage with a dark background and large structures or props behind them. Some are wearing hats and casual clothes, and one person is raising their hand.

Jism was probably the moment I realised we'd made something that could really work.

Jism by Ken Duncum and Rebecca Rodden. BATS 1989

Other theatres had turned it down, so we made a theatre and put it on.
It did good houses, was well reviewed, and announced a new voice in New Zealand theatre. It was unlike anything Wellington audiences had seen.

“Jism is a true theatrical event, impressive in conception, performance and production.”

Susan Budd, The Dominion

BLUE SKY BOYS

Then Blue Sky Boys took things to another level.

Two men in suits singing and playing guitar on stage, standing close together, with a microphone in front of them.
Nighttime scene of a theater marquee advertising the Blue Sky Boys, with a crowd of people gathered outside and cars parked nearby.

Ken Duncum’s play that had begun in a 92-seat theatre transferred to the 1500-seat St James.

BATS had become an incubator. Work could begin in this tiny room and go out into the world.

That was the point.

Black and white illustration of a woman with short hair and a plaid shirt with the word 'TRUELove' written on it. She has an intense expression and is holding her hand near her face.

I directed and performed at BATS throughout those extraordinary early years.

THE SHOWS

A person with spiky hair, wearing a jacket, is working with large metallic rocks or debris outdoors.

Truelove & Polythene Pam 1986

A group of six people standing in a row in a room with green walls and posters, holding hands and smiling, with musical equipment and a blackboard in the background.

Blue Sky Boys 1990

Black and white photo of a young boy with glasses, dressed in suspenders and a shirt, standing with arms raised in victory or celebration, on a stage or in front of a dark background.

Conquest of the South Pole 1990

A man with glasses, wearing a black jacket, is kneeling on the dark floor and hugging a person with long, striped clothing, with his arms wrapped around them. The scene appears to be in a dimly lit room.

Man to Man 1990

Three characters are on stage participating in a scene, with a backdrop that reads 'VIOIA'S SECOND.' One male character has a large head, glasses, a brown hat, and is wearing a bowtie with a flower boutonniere. A female character with short dark hair is wearing a red and white jacket. The third character, with blond hair, is wearing a pink outfit and holding a flower. The scene appears to be part of a theatrical performance.

Hamlet 1990

Twelfth Night 1989

A man in black clothing is crouching behind prison bars, looking intently at a woman lying face down on the ground. The woman has reddish hair and is wearing a pink jacket and patterned pants. The setting appears to be a prison or detention center with concrete and metal structures.
Black and white flyer for a 1985 theater production of Jonesco's "The Chairs" presented by The Bit Players, featuring a drawing of two chairs and a person sitting with their head down, grouped within a box. The flyer includes details about the event, including the date, time, ticket price, and location at Bates Theatre.

Jism 1989

Truelove & Polythene Pam · The Chairs · Jism · Blue Sky Boys · Hamlet · Conquest of the South Pole · Twelfth Night · Man to Man And many others

I also designed posters and took the publicity photographs.

The work, the design, the photography, the building and the administration didn't feel particularly separate.

It was all part of making theatre happen.

THE COMMUNITY ANSWERS BACK

In 1990, a fire caused by faulty wiring in a fridge damaged the backstage area.

Harriet Crampton organised a benefit concert to help rebuild. The St James filled. The Topp Twins performed and Paul Holmes spoke.

The response told us something:

BATS had become part of Wellington's cultural life. It wasn't simply a room where people hired a stage. It belonged to a community.

CUSTODIANS

A group of five young adults, four men and one woman, seated and standing in a small room with wood flooring. The woman, wearing glasses, a hat, and casual clothing, is at a small table with notebooks and a backpack. One man in an orange jumpsuit and others in casual attire are holding bottles. A bulletin board with various posters and papers is on the wall behind them.

Simon E, Jonathan Brough, Dan Slevin, Guy Boyce, Helen Searancke

In 1993, I moved to Auckland. But Simon and I remained controlling shareholders of BATS Theatre Limited until 2014. We appointed theatre managers, attended board meetings and continued to advise when asked.

Our role had changed. We weren't running the theatre day to day anymore. We were protecting the idea.

We resisted opportunities to make BATS bigger, including the possibility of taking over the 250-seat Hannah Playhouse across the road. We believed that BATS's small size was one of its greatest strengths. The fewer tickets you had to sell, the more risks you could take.

RETURN

In 2012 I came back to BATS to direct White Cloud, with songs by Tim Finn and a script by Ken Duncum.

Returning to the theatre after all those years was strange. So much had happened in the intervening years — I'd moved to Auckland, built a career in television and worked in theatre in a very different way.

But as soon as I started packing in with the performers, I recognised something familiar. The room still had the same intimacy, and the same sense that anything might happen in it.

A jazz band performing on stage with four musicians: a guitarist, a drummer, a trumpeter, and a female vocalist standing at a microphone. The stage is dimly lit with a black backdrop.

White Cloud, BATS, 2012

A white building with classical architectural details and large windows, with the signage "BATS" at the bottom, located in an urban area with parked cars in front. The building has other signage indicating "Manchester Unity Oddfellows" and "Loyal Britannia Lodge." There are modern buildings and trees surrounding it, under a clear blue sky.

WHAT REMAINS

I'm very proud that BATS is still going. I'm proud that the principles Simon and I established at the beginning are still there.

The building is bigger now. It has three performance spaces and has been earthquake-strengthened and restored. It's considerably less grubby than the theatre I remember, but I think the spirit survives.

When I look at the people who have come through BATS and gone on to do remarkable things — Taika Waititi, Flight of the Conchords, Fat Freddy's Drop, Robyn Malcolm, Kerry Fox and many others — I think: BATS made this possible.

Not because BATS made those artists. It gave them somewhere to begin.

And yet there is another feeling I have about BATS now, which is a little more complicated.

Most people working at the theatre today have no idea of what Simon E and I did to put BATS on the map.

I don't say that with bitterness. BATS belongs to the people who are making the work now. That's how it should be.

But there is something strange about creating something that outlives your involvement in it. You watch it continue, change and grow, and gradually you become part of its mythology rather than its daily reality. I sometimes feel a pang of sadness about that.

Mostly, though, I feel proud.

Because we didn't set out to create a legacy. We were two young theatre-makers who wanted somewhere to make interesting work.

So we made a place.

And the place survived us.

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