It’s slightly misleading for Happiness – billed as New Zealand’s first musical television series – to start with something as daggy as an airport flashmob set to the Backstreet Boys.
Not only is this six-episode comedy much sharper than its dated intro to Everybody (Backstreet’s Back) suggests, it’s not a jukebox musical, either.
Beyond its opener, Happiness is made up of quirky, charming original numbers taken from The Trojan Horse – the show’s delightfully janky musical-within-a-musical put on by amateur society Pizazz. No boyband can compete with a real estate agent playing Helen of Troy belting, “Won’t you be my Troy boy/not some typical toy boy.”
But Happiness is well aware of its opening’s cringe factor. For one, it’s written all over the face of flashmob target Charlie (Harry McNaughton) as he gawps at a wild display of awkward limbs and thrusts led by his doting mum and Pizazz owner Gaye (Rebecca Gibney).
Behind the glitter and hot glue, the show centres on this mother-son relationship damaged by Charlie’s barbed distance, leaving his home town Tauranga behind to become a Broadway director. Through the transformative power of a swords-and-sandals musical, can he learn to embrace the earnestness of both amateur theatre and small-town life – and even find true happiness?
Like many musicals, Happiness’s plot isn’t exactly groundbreaking, but it does offer a melisma of humour, joy and unabashed cheese. Think Schitt’s Creek meets Glee, hand-sewn together with hokey Kiwi charm.
Charlie, of course, is far from charmed at first. To him, New Zealand’s fifth-largest city is a parochial swamp. He’s only returned from New York to renew his visa, as he’s midway through directing rehearsals with Sally Field for a Broadway revival of Cats (presumably not the recent ballroom-set revival).
Ignoring Charlie’s snide jabs, Gaye ropes her son into Pizazz’s first-ever original musical, written by high school music teacher Gloria (Marshayla Christie). Naturally, those visa issues see Charlie stay a little longer than expected, and he’s soon sucked back into the amateur theatre troupe where he was once a star.
McNaughton – a writer-actor who is well known for appearing in Kiwi soap Shortland Street – is excellent as Charlie, a prickly, pretentious character who you nonetheless root for even as he’s asking high schoolers to identify the “erogenous zone” of a scene. Moments of calm and connection, such as rehearsals coaxing out a teenager’s talents, remind both him and the audience of an inner softness otherwise calloused as a survival mechanism.
McNaughton’s given a lot to play off, too. Like any amateur production, Pizazz’s ramshackle rec centre is home to a world of power plays, ballooning egos and sexual frisson. As with most “backstagers” (works centred on the inherent drama of any theatrical production, such as High School Musical, Glee or Smash), Happiness relies on archetypes.
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There’s the tyrannical director and delusional leading lady (Jessie Lawrence), as well as the reluctant-to-perform jock with a natural talent (here, a sparkie, played by Henry Auva’a), the excited ingenue (Melody Lui-Webster) and the overlooked composer who, in creating songs for others, finds her own voice (Christie).
While these characters might feel thin if Happiness was longer, the show simply has no time to spare. With six 20-minute episodes, its script has been economically whittled down; much like Pizazz’s nonexistent budget, it works wonders. The cast chomp into their roles, adding enough weight to their romances, feuds and raison d’Pizazz. (And if you think these archetypes are unrealistic, you’ve never done amateur theatre, which is filled with passionate people who, against their best intentions, crystallise into cliches.)
Happiness’s numbers – usually one or two each episode – are highlights too, with the cast belting through The Trojan Horse’s punchy pastiche of current musicals. There’s a dash of Dear Evan Hansen’s pop ballads and Six’s comic take on historic figures – though Charlie’s quick to correct anyone who declares them Broadway-ready.
What about Gibney? For an international audience, she is likely Happiness’s only familiar face, and it’s sad to say Gaye is a minor character in the show. She is often present but quiet, an ever-sunny people-pleaser who puts her own views and life to the side.
When Gaye does reach breaking point towards the show’s end, you can’t help but wish she cracked open earlier. Perhaps it’s hinting at what’s to come, with season two already in the works. Gibney taking centre stage? That’s one way to ensure Happiness keeps living up to its title.
