When chaos is crafted: a lesson from Laser Kiwi
There’s a particular kind of pride in coming home when you know you’ve got something cool in the bag. Hometown heroes Laser Kiwi have returned to Wellington, with a show strong and sharp, ready to show off to those who matter to them most – you.
After six months abroad, living, performing, and refining their newest work, Everybody Knows, they return to Aotearoa as part of the NZ International Comedy Festival. It’s a show that began not on the world stage, but right here at The Hannah! Developed over eight months in residence at Hannah Playhouse, with support from Auckland Live.
It was an absolute delight to interview Imogen – one third of this clever three-piece – about the trio’s journey from local development to international touring, and how the way their latest work was made, really matters.
The beautiful specificity of subgenre
Laser Kiwi don’t sit neatly in a box. Circus, yes, but also sketch comedy, physical theatre, absurdism, and improvisation. In their own words, they’re “the world’s only surreal sketch circus.” A genre-blurring, expectation-twisting hybrid that thrives precisely because it belongs to a smaller, deeply connected artistic ecosystem.
That ecosystem is where it all began. The trio’s origin story is grounded in a tight-knit circus community, one that Imogen describes as something you grow up within. The circus world, she explains, “seems quite small,” and it was through that environment: meeting as teenagers, surrounded by others making bold, self-directed work, that the foundations of Laser Kiwi were laid.
For her, it was inspiring. “Being in Wellington as a young artist meant being surrounded by people creating work and just carving their own pathway,” she says. That visibility made the idea of a career in circus feel both possible and compelling.
Subgenres don’t rely on mass audiences, they rely on communities. Spaces where artists test ideas, share work, and show up for each other. “The local circus scene is still so integral in our lives,” Imogen reflects. Regular showcases and gatherings keep the creative ecosystem alive and evolving, and whenever they get the chance, Imogen, Zane and Degge are there to support the community that supported them.
In Aotearoa, where scale is smaller and pathways are less defined, these communities are essential. They are where the work begins.
Making the impossible look effortless
At the heart of Everybody Knows is something deceptively simple: the illusion of spontaneity.
Laser Kiwi’s work feels loose, chaotic, improvised. But beneath that is a meticulous process of play, iteration, and refinement. The group often begins with improvisation, using it as a tool to discover what works. They’ll “improv our way through situations,” Imogen explains, before landing on moments that resonate. Those are the ones that eventually become embedded in a show.
Over time, what feels spontaneous becomes carefully constructed. The goal, she suggests, is for audiences to believe they’re watching something entirely organic, even when it’s anything but. That balance between structure and freedom is where the craft lies.
And sometimes, the line blurs entirely. In one performance, a genuine on-stage mishap saw Zane fall and lose a shoe mid-act. The audience, she recalls, assumed it was intentional. That ambiguity where chaos and control coexist is part of what gives the work its energy. It’s playful, yes. But it’s also precise. An example of what happens when masters of their craft are in full flight.
The gift of time, space, and trust
What sets Laser Kiwi’s latest show Everybody Knows apart, and what has allowed it to become what it is now, is the way it was made.
Thanks to a funded development period at The Hannah with support from Auckland Live, this work was not rushed or squeezed into a timeframe based on affordability. It was given time, space, resource, and belief.
For Laser Kiwi, their residency at Hannah Playhouse marked a turning point. It was, as Imogen describes it, “the first time making work in such a supported way.” Having a dedicated space meant they could leave props in place, experiment with lighting and sound, and return to ideas over time rather than rebuilding from scratch each day.
That continuity changed everything.
It also opened the door to a more transparent creative process. Early showings during the residency were intentionally rough “...so bare bones,” as Imogen puts it, where audiences were invited into the process itself. These weren’t polished performances, but conversations. A chance to try something, sit with it, and then “hang out for a beer after and chat about how it went.”
This is a perfect demonstration of The Hannah fully realising its own tagline: a performance and development space. A lab for bold and independent creatives.
Layered with support from Auckland Live which contributed funding, technical development, and touring infrastructure, the result was a rare kind of creative environment. One where ambition could be matched with resource, and ideas could be followed through properly.
More than anything, it created a sense of belief. That backing, Imogen explains, wasn’t just practical, it was emotional. “It felt like someone saying, ‘you’ve made good work before, and you can do it again. We believe in you.’”
From Wellington to the world and back again
There’s a familiar story in New Zealand’s arts landscape: make the work here, refine it overseas, and build audiences elsewhere.
As Imogen reflects, Aotearoa is “a beautiful place to work, but it’s a hard place to work.” Not because of a lack of talent (quite the opposite) but because of scale, population, and cultural habits around attending live performance.
In Europe, she notes, going to a show is simply part of life. People attend regularly, without needing to be convinced. Here, audiences are just as engaged, but the culture of attendance is less embedded.
And yet, that challenge produces something else: resilience.
In New Zealand, artists make work because they want to, not because there’s an easy pathway. That necessity breeds creativity: not just in the work itself, but in how it’s shared. Artists hustle. They build their own opportunities. They take risks.
Which is why this homecoming matters.
Because for once, Aotearoa audiences aren’t seeing the early draft. They’re seeing the show fully realised. After seasons in Edinburgh and Adelaide, and months of iteration and refinement, Everybody Knows returns as something complete, tested, and ready.
As Imogen puts it, audiences here won’t be the “crash test dummies.” Instead, they’ll experience a version of the show that has already found its shape.
A stage worth returning to
For all their international success, there’s something grounding about returning to where it began.
For Imogen, Zane and Degge, Hannah Playhouse holds a particular place in that journey. It’s not just the physical space – though Imogen describes it as “such a beautiful room to work in and perform in” – but the energy surrounding it.
There’s a sense that the venue understands the artists it supports. That the people behind it recognise the realities of independent practice: the hustle, the risk, the process behind the performance.
Which is a beautiful thing, because when artists feel understood, they make better work.
The work behind the wonder
Everybody Knows might feel like a wild ride, and it is. A visual, audial and conceptual extravaganza. A masterclass in controlled chaos. But what sits underneath is something quieter, and perhaps more important: A subgenre sustained by community. A process grounded in play and persistence.
And now, after months of hustle, risk, and international touring, it returns home as a show ready to meet its audience. Which feels, in every sense, like something to celebrate.
Catch Laser Kiwi: Everybody Knows as part of the NZ International Comedy Festival. Showing at The Hannah 1–16 May, and at Auckland’s Herald Theatre 19–23 May.