Critic Te Ārohi, risking life and limb after publishing a not-so-positive review last year, returned to this year's Capping Show. Thankfully, we didn't have to worry. We only needed to get about 10 minutes in before realising that we weren't going to regret putting them on the front cover the other week.
Breaking tradition, SQUEAL: A Capping Show Horror relied on the horror genre as a whole – its tropes and ideas all viciously blended together. That’s a major departure from the normal studentesque rip-off of a well known film for the storyline. Critic is delighted to announce that this change really, really worked.
The show follows the tenants of Flat 666 (Lindsey, Deborah, Tom, and Matty), who are dealing with a spooky flat and an ancient malevolent landlord (as many tauira do). This landlord, Mr McCready, had been patiently counting down until Saint Patrick's Day, when he could finally complete a ritual to possess a fresh young body. The tenants were also haunted by Ghosted Face (not to be confused with Ghostface), but in a genuinely good twist – Ghosted Face turned out to be trying to scare them off for their own good. Sorry for the spoiler.
This was the most well-rounded Capping Show in our time as students, and nowhere was that clearer than in the main sketch. Free from the annual burden of cramming a recognisable movie parody into 120 chaotic minutes, the writers had their leash unclipped and let things descend into glorious stupidity. Enter “John Pork is calling”, Looney Tunes-ass disguises, the fatal horror-movie decision to “split up, gang”, and a Jeffrey Epstein jumpscare delivered with full Wile E. Coyote energy. On top of all that, when Senior Officer Craig Daniels and his Campus Watch officers-in-training entered the mix, there was a minute-long break for applause. Critic is surprised there was no standing ovation.
The only real critique we have for the main sketch is that it felt like it needed an extra scene, which has been a recurring sentiment over the years. There was superb lighting, sound, costume and writing that promised an epic showdown with McCready, which much like great sex, was over way too soon. But we’d much rather be left begging for more than kept hostage in the auditorium way past our bedtimes.
We would also like to formally state that butchering a Twilight poster, even as a prop, should probably qualify as a criminal offence. Although, seeing as it was a Jacob poster, we suspect a jury may be prepared to acquit. Our moral compass truly is strange and mysterious, but the Capping Crew should know better than to fuck with a Twilight stan.
Even though the main storyline carried its own weight, the side sketches also did some undeniably heavy lifting. Thankfully, they hadn’t skipped any day over at UniPol. Like the main sketch, they felt oddly liberated. Gone was the pressure to spin a dozen takes on sex jokes across each and every scene, and entered the freedom to say something stupid just because it was funny. Not every sex joke is equal, and this year saw quality over quantity (reverse Pinocchio blowjob — need we say more). Instead, the show leaned fully into their uniquely Capping flavour of unhinged creativity. Unexpected sketches riffing on James Bond and on Jack’s death in Titanic were sharp, while their deranged spin on To Catch a Predator and the interrogation of Mr. Peter Phile had us reeling. Will Murphy outdid himself with the sketch of AskOtago discussing how to remove a student's “GAY, FURRY, HENTAI, INTERRACIAL, GANGBANG PORN” tab — almost outshining his crowd-favourite role as Senior Officer Craig Daniels, Campus Watch. Having Craig only appear briefly was an excellent decision, proving that 2026 Capping has the ability to stand on its own while acknowledging existing successes.
Another highlight on the side sketch list was “Let it Grow”: an argument over whether to let the bush grow, delivered through the iconic Lorax song. It was absolutely fucking relentless and had the energy of a bit created at 2am that becomes funnier and funnier because it just won’t stop. Every time we thought it had finally reached its natural conclusion, another person would storm onstage to keep the riot going. Then, just as the audience finally began recovering, O’Nair appeared with “Shave it Off”, sung to the tune of “Let it Die”, and absolutely cleaned us up. Filthy work. Exceptional stuff.
However, we must admit that we didn't fuck with everything (please don’t come for us). There was a bit of domestic violence-themed humour woven through a couple of skits, which was more awkward than amazing. One sketch in particular featured a singlet-clad father berating and hitting his son for accidentally bringing him a non-alcoholic beer, and we'll be honest: no one really knew when or where to laugh, except for the deliberately absurd ending. Beyond the shock value of the angry, beer-fuelled dad, there did not seem to be much else underpinning the joke.
Additionally, we know that Capping is pretty keen on its traditions (wimpy blokes, the same actress playing a child with a propeller/hat, and the final Capping bow). Don't fix what ain't broken. But on this note, where did all the NZ political jokes go? There were some, sure, but there could’ve been a few more. Perhaps with the utter tomfuckery of international politics, there just wasn't enough space for shots at our homegrown coalition.
The boys of the Selwyn Ballet were at their circus best, excelling with their stunts. It was evident how much work had gone into making the chaos of their routine feel genuinely polished rather than just boys doing flips in skirts. First created in 1928, the Selwyn Ballet is the second oldest amateur ballet troupe in the world, and was the oldest all-male troupe until it was opened to everyone at the hall in 2024. Despite these beginners knowing shit-all about ballet, it’s more than impressive that this is the one wholesome thing to come out of the cult of Selwyn.
In terms of the musical side of things, we have even more good things to say. The Sexytet did a great job this year. Their best parody was of the Harry Styles hit, titled “Sign of the Wine” (hahaha, get it?) Their commentary on the abolition of Fees Free got plenty of rise from the audience. Our only critical note read: “I would have laughed more if I could have heard what they were singing.” We did hear “fuck Arana” loud and clear though. Preach.
The Sextet’s refrain “you take the man out of Otago, not Otago out the man” was genuinely touching, expressing a certain amount of sentimental admiration for Ōtepoti, which is often overlooked by the student body. Were the rest of the verses still crude? Of course, and we would want nothing less. The band also delivered a truly outstanding performance, from lyrical highlights such as “Robbo doesn’t know”, to grinding on their microphone stand (and on each other). If only town had bangers like these.
Undoubtedly, the best part was the unpredictability of it all. Every time the curtains opened, it felt like anything could happen. This was trying something new and brave, and experimenting with which lines to cross. And, judging from the Sextet's choice of “We are Charlie Kirk”, and the timeless Capping bow at the end, that seems to be the point of it all. All the hard work that went into this show absolutely paid off. Med Revue, Law Revue, and Capping Show '27 should be absolutely terrified. The bar is here.
Fuck Arana.
