Despite being cancelled for a certain student-theatre review earlier in the year, Critic Te Ārohi is back on its feet for Med Revue. Ever gluttons for punishment, here’s what three hours of enduring med-student humour is like (in the name of charity, of course).
Med Revue’s theme was Diagnosis of a Wimpy Kid (aha, get it). The show was structured around the plot of Diary of a Wimpy Kid, but instead of attending high school, the cast is thrown into their first year of Med School at Otago. Poor things. Stretching from July 31st to August 2nd, all proceeds of the show were donated to the Dunedin Night Shelter. But don’t let Med be mistaken for a charity case.
In the overarching story, Med really played to its strengths. By sticking to the niche in which they were grounded, Med led us into their world with sincerity, even as they satirised it, neatly balancing between comedy and cartoonishness. Alongside this was a strong showing of side sketches. In pairing a trophy with the on-screen medical term "atrophy", Med has mastered the short, snappy, no-mercy joke. When we saw students push the University to merely acknowledge the existence of a "fire", it was the most tasteful Gaza sketch we'd ever seen.
These future doctors had clearly taken a break from the med grind, and studied the anomaly of Castle Street. There was no mention of burning couches or the term 'scarfie'—both stereotypes lost to the 2010s. It was surprising yet reassuring to know at least some med students have actually stepped foot on Castle before.
Despite what you may think, everyone can act. And boy did they. Each recovered med zombie stood out in their own wonderful way. Greg Heffley’s actor embodied the high school loser turned med-loser with conviction without becoming a caricature (Zoo- Wee-Mama indeed). Half the script must have been written for medicine’s muscliest man who played Manny. His mere presence caused fits of laughter and maybe a respectful "awooga" or two. The delightfully shameless king of comedy playing Fregley surely gave Jim Carrey a run for his money. The theatre nerds dotted around the audience were taking notes.
And hopefully, aspiring directors were taking notes too! From using the band instruments live during a main sketch, to simply opening the back curtains for an entrance, there was some cool innovation on the general format that made the crowd go "OooOoOoO."
But, you can't have your cake and eat it (bummer). In faithfully adapting Diary of a Wimpy Kid, the main script had a lot to contend with. The first half juggled it all so well; so when the second half dropped the ball, even the amazing acting could not hide that it had largely forgotten Med for Wimpy. Scenes progressing the plot became devoid of any reference back to the med school setting. An oversaturated roster of characters left us debating who the leading lady was, and if we were supposed to remember those male bullies. The liturgy of unnecessary sideplots left viewers lost for direction, driving them down a series of windy roads leading to a cluster of dead ends.
Wedged within a three-hour show, what the snack bar really needed was coffee. Still, in defiance of likely many med students’ strict bedtimes, the audience powered through. What truly woke anyone with heavy eyes was the clever skit playing on the two definitions of CBT: Cognitive Behaviour Therapy and Cock and Ball Torture. However, if the show dragged on for any longer, like Cinderella, we may have all turned into pumpkins.
On the Friday show, we watched with gnashing teeth and middle fingers raised at a group of nine noisy hecklers. Described in our notes as "exhibitionist freaks" and "cunt losers", it was observed that they sat where the final night Capping Show hecklers sat. So it was with a mixture of pride and surprise that we watched Campus Watch emerge, not to join a sketch, but to turf out those cretins.
Who would’ve thought a med student could possibly have the time for a 3-hour wimp-athon, let alone the months of preparation in advance? Mad respect.