Wellington Fringe 2026
Tap Fusion
Tap NZ
Genre: Dance, Dance and Movement Theatre, Tap
Venue: Hannah Playhouse
Festival: Wellington Fringe
Low Down
A rollercoaster ride where Tap, Hip Hop, Break, Popping and Lindy Hop were fused seamlessly to narrate a story that genuinely pushed creative boundaries, using dance to communicate and narrate in a way that was both adventurous and compelling.
Review
Wellington’s Hannah Playhouse is packed pretty much to the gunnels, the audience patiently awaiting curtain up for this, the opening performance of the capital city’s 2026 Fringe.
The house lights dim quickly, leaving just eerie darkness and silence. Then, after what seems an eternity but is probably only a few seconds, comes the sound of a distant, rhythmic clicking, its volume and intensity growing. Then, suddenly, it’s “lights up” and we’re off.
“Listen to my feet, and I will tell you the story of my life” is a quotation widely attributed to John Bubbles, the pioneering American tap dancer, vaudevillian and actor who is widely recognised as the father of rhythm tap. Apocryphal or not, it’s still a neat summary of Bubbles’ hypothesis that tap dancing can rhythmically narrate, expressing life’s syncopations through improvised footwork.
It’s a theory that co-creators and choreographers Brandon and Cameron Cater-Chan put to the test as we embark on a rollercoaster ride where Tap, Hip Hop, Break, Popping and Lindy Hop were fused seamlessly to narrate a twelve chapter story that genuinely pushed creative boundaries, using dance (with tap as its central theme) to communicate and narrate in a way that was both adventurous and compelling.
Bookended by solo pieces from Brandon Carter-Chan that were reflective, calm and even melancholic in places, this was an exquisitely choreographed and staged ninety-minute piece of theatre that left its audience as breathless as its performers surely were, given the passion and energy with which they used every part of the capacious stage.
We had dances featuring bickering couples, courting couples, partying couples and a plethora of other human interactions, conversation and emotion flowing with sounds rather than words, from the feet (naturally), the hands and many other parts of the dancers’ bodies.
Of necessity, there was the occasional break in what was full-on, high-octane theatre. The live stage band (guitar, bass, percussion) provided music bridges mid-dance, giving that vital thirty seconds or so for the on-stage dancers to get their breathing under control. Similarly, music only introductions and segues gave the audience a breather from the high decibel levels generated by the three dozen feet clattering away on the dance floor. And the fusion of dance genre, cutting together the aforementioned non-tap forms with the eponymous tap central to the story, generated variety in tempo, movement and sound.
This was one of those rare shows that gave you more than the sum of its individual parts. Each of the dozen dance pieces could stand on its own. But their sequencing outlined a story, with the audience invited to interpret as they individually saw fit. It was also more than a show featuring dance. There was original, live music to add colour to the dance. There was physical theatre, clowning and mime, attributes that, in addition to a wicked sense of comic timing, the charismatic Cameron Carter-Chan possessed in glorious abundance. He and others were clever too, in their use of that classic “call and response” technique to break the fourth wall and get the audience involved in the show, to which they needed no second bidding.
Lindy Hop’s fusion with tap was inspiring and the athleticism featured in the Hip Hop, Breaking and Popping pieces jaw-dropping. The final fusion involving the dozen tap specialists, the sextet of street dancers and the on-stage musicians generated a wall of sound that could probably have been heard in Eastbourne (for those reading this that are non-Wellingtonians, this particular Eastbourne is many kilometres away across the harbour).
Calm was only restored thanks to Brandon Carter-Chan’s final dance equivalent of a soliloquy which saw the evening conclude with a few moments of reflection on what was an outstanding piece of entertainment.
Calling out individual highlights from such universally high quality fare is difficult. The dancing, in all its varied forms, was, as you might have expected, faultless. And each dancer created their own, quite distinct character that added theatricality to their movements. They also ensured the on-stage activity never slipped into competing with one another – they strove hard (and succeeded) in complementing their stage mates. Sound and lighting from Michael Adams and Ez Jones-Moki was supportive throughout and the whole thing was stage managed by another of the Carter-Chan clan, Brigid.
There was, however, a real standout piece, “Drums”. The idea of fusing percussion and tap was pure genius, at least judging by the tumultuous ovation at its conclusion. OK, the tap dancing was appropriately wild and upbeat. But the percussion. Oh, to hear that drum solo again. Step forward Dale Sasis, composer and performer of four/five minutes of utterly compelling percussion that would have that doyen of the art, Buddy Rich (and probably others), purring with pleasure. Frankly, you didn’t really need the dancers. Next time, just give Sasis (who also appeared as one the sextet of street dancers) the stage, sit back and listen to him tell a story with a pair of sticks. Priceless.
“Outstanding” can be an over-used adjective to describe something. Not in this case. Dancing; choreography; fusion of dance genres; creation of characters that had identity and consistency; storyboard; athleticism. All first grade, top class, whatever you will. And the real icing on an already sumptuous cake? Those drums.
