Erin Harrrington reviews Skate or Die, written by Millie Hanford, directed by Grace von Huben, produced by Pretty Little Sweethearts, at Little Andromeda, Thursday 16 April 2026.
One of the funniest things I have ever overheard happened about twenty years ago, while I was having a lunchtime cigarette (regrets) at the Hack Circle in Cashel Mall (RIP). Between the goths and the pot dealers, two very earnest skater dudes were discussing one’s tearful existential crisis: he had taken way too many drugs, and when he eventually came to he knew deep in his heart of hearts that he was pregnant, but because he was a dude it must be a butt baby and an immaculate conception at that. He could feel the love welling up within him, but he wasn’t ready to be a father yet, man. What could he do? Cue much whoa and many dudes and a couple of no way bros.
I don’t know what happened as they ollied their way into an uncertain future (or at least just down to the KFC fountain), but I was thinking about these ridiculous bros during Skate or Die. This outstanding new surreal feminist comedy – which has also had the best digital marketing in a while – lands us with five douchey hardcore skater bois who get sucked into a cursed video game. They try to make it through the levels, but as things get first weird and then lethal they realise that something bigger is going on. Who is watching? Why does it sound like a chick? The boys (da boyz) must come to terms with their most toxic traits, and their crappy attitudes towards women, if they want to get out alive. Think Tony Hawk’s Dante’s Inferno but with Stage Challenge-like choreo, lo-fi comedy props, and all the scraggly facial hair you could(n’t) want. Crack a Monster and cue the Sum41.
Show creator Millie Hanford has drawn from an excruciating back catalogue of awful dates and vile DMs to put together the playable characters, each like their own People of New Zealand archetype. Meet angry short king Nate (Hanford), emo James (Reylene Rose-Hilaga), horny fuckboi TJ (Caitlin Penhey), stoner Harry (Emma Brittenden), and Chris (Krystal O’Gorman), who is very tall and kinda forgettable, and thus has never had to develop any strong personality traits. It’s a drag king dream team of some of the country’s best improv, clown and comedy performers; this is why you should watch women do comedy. The performances are physical and comic but really strongly grounded in character, from the bobbing idle animation poses during the game’s character selection mode, to the jaw-dropping dialogue, and to absurd dance and movement sequences. Grace von Huben’s lively but controlled direction focuses the havoc and makes great use of the limited space, which also keeps the audience right in the middle of the action. I sit in the front row and don’t regret it. Everything is elevated by Vincent Andrew-Scammel’s pitch perfect AV design. It nails the pixellated early PlayStation aesthetic, from loading screens and level concepts, to player vs player sequences.
Each guy’s response to the game’s provocations – can you demonstrate emotional range? Can you ask a woman questions about herself? – leads to a moment of crisis, driving the action through very silly consequences towards its emotional climax. It’s hilarious and often unexpected, and has an extraordinary joke per minute count. But it’s also underpinned by a commentary on awful attitudes, ghosting, cruelty, misogyny, and just general self-absorbed shittiness. Why take responsibility for your dick behaviour when you can just blame women for being crazy amirite? Comedy – and, here, gender play – is a great way of highlighting real life problems through exaggeration and excess, or by tipping them on their head to demonstrate their absurdities and rob them of their power. Underneath it all is the men’s emotional illiteracy and their inability to relate to each other outside of dick punches and trash talk. Maybe if you wanna shred the patriarchy bros need to take some responsibility for their bros’ behaviour too.
Skate or Die is the best sort of theatre chaos: it’s funny, savage, ridiculous, high energy, and above all really smart. If it’s not in some sort of 2026 top ten I’ll eat my backwards DC cap. Afterwards, I see that there’s a dude’s bedroom set up in the corner of the foyer, with a bean bag, posters, a “cum play” sign and a Tony Hawk game hooked up to the monitor on the wall. Three guys immediately flock to it. Were they working through their post-show feelings? I guess you gotta start somewhere.
Skate or Die runs at Little Andromeda until Saturday 18 April 2026.
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