A Whale’s Call in an Empty Room

By Ryan Cleland

“One in ten people in New Zealand live alone.” These were among the first words spoken at A Show for When You Feel Lonely, a recent solo performance by Dr. James Wenley, a senior lecturer in Theatre at Te Herenga Waka. Presented as part of the Tahi Festival of Solo Performance, the show unfolds entirely within Wenley’s own apartment—where he lives alone, one of those ten. 

Lasting just over an hour, the performance draws the audience into this intimate space, which Wenley admits “rarely receives visitors.” Here, he reflects on sixteen years of living alone, interwoven with  the story of his mother, recently widowed and experiencing solitude for the first time in her seventies. 

Wenley is at ease in this setting. Having premiered the show earlier in the year at the New Zealand Fringe Festival, he commands the space with the confidence of both performer and a teacher. The audience responds in kind—speaking with him, engaging in conversation, and lingering afterwards to chat or write in his guestbook. Leaving felt less than exiting a theatre and more like saying goodbye after a warm stay in an old friend’s home. 

When I met Wenley to discuss the piece, I arrived flustered and late. Yet he greeted me with the same warmth that characterizes his performance. He explained that staging the show in his apartment was a deliberate choice, reflecting its themes of loneliness, connection, and his personal experience. The narrative also includes stories of his mother and the “52 Hertz whale,” often called the world’s loneliest whale. 

Wenley is careful to distinguish between being alone and being lonely.  “It's not to say that living alone equals loneliness.” He tells me. “It doesn't. But it can kind of impact the experience.” His father passed away in 2023, and ever since then, his mother has lived alone for the first time. Her experience was a catalyst for the show. “I think it was looking at my mum and how her life has changed since my father, her husband, passed away.”

The other central figure is the 52 Hertz whale—also known as 52-Blue—a mysterious creature whose call,  at an unusual frequency,  goes unanswered by other whales. Wenley uses this metaphor to explore how solitude can feel like calling to the void, hoping someone will hear. 

Throughout the performance, Wenley reflects on the relatively recent phenomenon of living alone, noting that “living alone is a uniquely 20th-century invention.” He invites the audience to unpack stereotypes often attached to solo living—introverted, social ineptitude, or fierce independence—and how those labels shape perception.

Much like 52-Blue, Wenley positions his own experience of solitude as a voice slightly outside the usual rhythms of social life—distinct, but still reaching outward in search of connection. By inviting the audiences into his private space. He mirrors the whale’s call: putting something deeply personal into the world and seeing who responds. 

Music plays a central role in the performance, delivered through a single, distinctive instrument—the Omnichord. “It came out in the ’80s,” Wenley jokes, “just like I did.” This harp-like electronic instrument allows prerecorded beats and chords to be layered in real time, creating a rich, meditative soundscape. It evokes whale songs and reinforces the show’s themes of loneliness and connection.

The lighting is minimal—mostly standard house lights with a few blue LEDs to suggest the ocean. Yet Wenley masterfully immerses the audience. “People have said this is the perfect instrument for someone who might be lonely,” he explains. “You can jam and make lots of really cool sounds.” The Omnichord becomes more than accompaniment—it’s a character in its own right, drawing the audience deeper into the performance.

At the end of the show, Wenley presents a guestbook.  Everyone in my cohort contributed kind words, many reflecting how they felt less lonely after the performance. Wenley sees the guestbook as another space for connection. “ [Some] people don't want to share verbally or have more things that they're kind of thinking about to write in the guestbook. And every performance is unique because of the people that are in the room. And it's so cool to kind of hear other people's stories about whether they also are people that have lived alone or if there's something that they haven't really kind of thought much about in their lives so far.” 

Wenley's solo performance provokes meaningful conversations around loneliness and connection.He tells me the post-show engagement is “really meaningful”. A sentiment made clear as the audience lingered and spoke—an uncommon occurrence in conventional theatre. 

When I left Wenley's apartment I called my girlfriend—just to say hello.Then I called my mum. It was nice to catch up and tell them both I loved them. The show reminded me to reach out to those close to me and to always take care of the connections I have with the people who matter most to me. After all, we’re never truly alone. 

The only other voice in the performance, aside from Wenley’s, was a brief audio recording of his mother. Who offered a short reflection on what to do when we feel alone. Her words were simple but heartfelt, reminding us that solitude is not permanent. Today we may feel isolated, but tomorrow—or perhaps the next day—we may not. The feeling will pass.