Crying in the What Now crowd

This article comes from thespinoff.co.nz team

Alex Casey has a wonderful Sunday morning in the studio of Aotearoa’s longest-running children’s show.

You’d think we were in the middle of a spectacular home birth. “Does anyone have more towels,” someone shouts from the room, chasing a bright pink and orange towel.

“More towels?!” someone pleaded with heaven. In seconds, there are many towels. And mops. And lots of people on their hands and knees scrubbing the damn gunge toilet with foam.

After more than four decades on air, What Now is still as confusing and chaotic as ever.

The day I was called to the What Now studio – filmed at Whitebait Media in Ōtautahi – is also the final episode of presenter Erin Wells. He’s been on the show for over five years, and his farewell is so sweet that the entire studio audience is filled with his friends and family — and me.

We entered the gallery as she happily waved and greeted her favorite people in the world. And I, no one has his name but a pen.

When we sit down just after 8am on a Sunday morning, my half-open eyes threaten to close forever when I’m faced with the sheer amount of color and texture before me. LED screens filled with unshakable gunge. The twinkling of stars. Balloons. Neons. Was What Now Was This Bright? I remember the last time I was in What Now studio – Avalon Studios, Lower Hutt, around 1999.

I only see primary colors and I proudly wear a USA hoodie that is very old, very ugly.

These were, of course, the famous days of Props Boy and “Fill Ya Pants”, Farty and Shavaughn, Serial Stuff and… chef? Was there really a chef in the studio? My eyes adjust to the bright lights and I notice that there is a picture of the front of the wharenui in the studio with the old What Now logos.

It’s a reminder of the true legacy of our longest-running children’s show, which continues every Sunday morning – and has done so even in closed-off locations across the country.

Even though I swear by everything brighter now, most of it is still the same. There are still tele-ops that take calls in the studio, although there are far fewer of them than in 1999. Everyone wants to talk about progress, but nobody wants to talk about the impact of technological progress on the tele-op industry.

The Gunge is still in the center of the What Now genre, as is having some obscure monkeys (Shakespeare (not that one) in my day; Camilla Gorilla now).

Much has changed. For starters, for another episode, the show features two women in Erin Wells and Stella Maris – the first two female hosts in the show’s history.

As they rehearse their original song alongside the crowd of dancers, it’s clear that this is going to be a lot of fun. “I’m already crying,” Stella says, rubbing her eyes. Erin asks if they can take pictures together before things get “messy”, which would be a very smart move.

Soon, the show is available. The dancers are really doing it, and Erin and Stella are really crying. I never thought that when I sat down to watch What Now and filmed it I would be nearly choked by the depth and power of female friendships, but this show has been full of surprises. Speaking of which, Camilla Gorilla brings out a basket full of Erin’s favorite things, including raspberry Pepsi, chicken nuggets and rainbow cake. Pepsi is threatening to close.

“Argh!” Stella laughs, “this is going to be like Justin Bieber again.”

As soon as the show starts, it’s amazing that the whole studio has to do a delicate dance. Last-minute changes are pushed behind a piece of paper and held close to the camera. “Has anyone seen the script on the back of it?” Stella screams during the break. “It’s very important!”

At What Now everything is always moving, everyone is either picking up the rope or wiping the gunge.

There are still levels and games around the theme, including a prize from Sneaky the Kiwi that looks like a children’s Powerball, the jackpot being a trip to Samoa. “I don’t know about the time in here,” an audience member murmurs. “It’s like a casino.”

Indeed, the odds are abounding – Cirque on Ice tickets here, cricket set there. A little boy waits patiently in a room to be shot, arguably the highest prize of all.

Things take a turn for the worse when more children send messages saying goodbye to Erin. “Hi Erin, you really inspire me,” says one, “maybe one day I would like to be on What Now.” “We’re going to miss you,” waved another. Erin is inconsolable, and frankly neither am I. “I miss you all,” she cries. He is so loved that someone named him their cat after him, a perfect time to bring the cutest kittens into the studio. Why? Me crying?

In the final episode of Interstella, a modern-day adaptation of Serial Stuff, Erin’s character takes off from space and leaves her best friend, Stella, behind. In the studio, Erin and the real Stella are holding hands.

The digital tear counter in the footage is at two now, and there’s more to come as his ex sings in the studio, his family and friends crowding in the background. I’m late – maybe it’s not time to introduce myself.

In keeping with the long, rambling history of What Now, Erin’s final words on the show are touching: “I HAVE TO PLEASE AND THANK YOU!”

By the end, her pale pink overalls are drenched in orange gunge, her hair shiny and foamy. The cameras stop rolling and the floor manager announces “we’re clear to Erin”.

The studio bursts into applause and tears, and I quietly walk out past the celebrations. ‘Be careful,’ a crew member whispers. It’s slippery.

It’s been an amazing journey full of gunge, singing, dancing and incredible screams. I’ve seen the most beautiful cats in the world and the kindest gorilla of them all. I’ve been in deep space, behind Cirque on Ice, and almost in Sāmoa.

My gray eyes drift back to the gray concrete of the Christchurch carpark. It’s only 9.32am on a Sunday morning and I have two little words to ask myself: what now?