Vale Paul Minifie

Paul Minifie – actor, director, tutor, mentor, voice-over artist, venue manager, New Zealand theatre legend and the most loyal and loving friend you could ever hope to meet in a lifetime – passed last Friday 30 October 2026. He was 79. 

  

After the success of ATC's recent production of Cabaret, in the strange circularity of events, I am reminded of another production of this landmark musical. Theatre Corporate. 1984. Sarah Peirse was Sally Bowles, Michael Hurst was the Emcee. Maya Dalziel was Frau Schnieder and, as Herr Schultz, Paul Minifie.  

  

That year, 1984, was my first year at Theatre Corporate's Drama School, Paul was one of my tutors and Cabaret the first production I saw there as a student. I had caught him the year before at Corporate as Gloucester to Raymond Hawthorne's King Lear. He was sublime in both roles – he could sing, he could dance, he could stagger, eyeballs out, on a blasted heath – displaying a range and sensitivity that would distinguish his work (and that we lowly students could only hope to one day emulate). As a fellow student posted on hearing the news, Paul was a kind man in a theatre not always full of them and the friendship we made that year would, as it turned out, last a lifetime. 

  

After Theatre Corporate, Paul became Raymond's number two at the Mercury Theatre where I was privileged to be directed by him in Shadowlands, a gorgeously moving play about CS Lewis and Joy Gresham, the American poet he had dared to love. Maybe you saw it. Audiences were shattered by the true story and performances of the leads, Ross Duncan and Helen Medlyn. One of Paul's greatest gifts was his ability to bring out the best in actors during the rehearsal process. He didn't scream at you. He had patience. Kindness. He understood your processes as an actor creating a role and helped you through it. Not all well-known directors subscribed to this method but that was one of Paul's hallmarks. 

  

At the Merc, in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, I got to play Brick alongside Paul as Big Daddy. Lee Grant played Big Momma, Elizabeth Hawthorne was Maggie the Cat. On stage, Paul was a force to reckon with, imposing and brutal. It was a career highlight for me and an honour to share the stage with him. 

  

Then, on 19 March 1992, the Mercury closed its doors and Paul and I stood among its entire company, crew and administration in France Steet – evicted and homeless. So much for twenty years of theatre in this town. 

  

And there our story might have ended. 

  

However. 

  

Paul went on to accept a new role – Director and Manager of the Maidment Theatre at the University of Auckland. And I got involved with a group hoping to start a new theatre company in Auckland. 

  

Time passed. 

  

Paul worked tirelessly on transforming the Maidment from a student revue venue to a 'proper theatre' as ATC slowly grew until, in 1996, our paths merged once more – we transferred Roger Hall's Market Forces, a sellout success at the Herald Theatre, to the Maidment. 

  

In the history of ATC, this moment, this quantum leap from 180 seats to 440 seats, was transformative, sealing our fortune and securing our future. It forever changed the scale and scope of our programming and productions, created opportunities for the Company to score meaningful box office success and prepared the way for all that would follow. Paul paved the way. He gave us a home when we had none and because he had run most of the theatres in this country at some time, helped guide me through my own steep learning curve.   

  

As an audience member, I'm sure you will have your own special memories of the ATC's many years at the Maidment. For me, the first play I ever directed, Twelve Angry Men, opened there before transferring to Sky City. It was Paul who made this possible.  

  

Because of his workload, he was always reticent to accept many acting jobs but I was able to entice him back on stage a few times. He was delicious as Badger in The Wind in the Willows, devastating as Joe Keller in All My Sons and charged with a complex humanity as the chief oncologist Dr Harvey Kelekian alongside Ilona Rodgers and Beryl Te Wiata in Wit.  

  

In 2013, for the Company's 21st birthday, Colin McColl cast us alongside each other again as Cardinal Wolsey and Thomas Cromwell in Anne Boleyn. Though the play was hugely entertaining, more so was sharing a dressing room with Paul, Raymond, Ken Blackburn, George Henare, Jordan Mooney and Peter Daube. We laughed, sang, gossiped and shared theatre stories. One night, cocky as ever, Raymond came strolling in demanding to know if anyone had anything to read. Noting Raymond's still cursory acquaintance with the words, Paul said dryly and quick as flash: “You could try the script!”  Even Raymond laughed. 

  

He had an excellent sense of humour and so many of his “Paulisms” have become my own. When an audience enjoyed a show, they were “throwing their wives in the air.” If something was outdated, it “went out with Binnie Hale and green eyeshadow.”

  

He had one other life maxim that has stayed with me: “Work pays off.”  

  

Paul struggled with his health in recent years. In 2019, things were not looking good but he rallied and, in an extraordinary comeback, flew to Indonesia for a last holiday. He made it back to Auckland for the launch of ATC's 30th Anniversary book. For many, it was a chance to tell him how much he changed their lives. He wasn't really one for accolades but he was chuffed to see so many friends and colleagues, gathered to celebrate three decades of a theatre company he had so foundationally helped to shape. 

  

Put another way, we couldn't have done it without him. 

  

And so, back to Cabaret. 

  

As Herr Schultz sings: “How the world can change, it can change like that.” Last Friday 30 October, the world of New Zealand theatre changed like that as Paul Minifie left the stage for the last time.  

  

In our industry, he was a giant. 

  

All who follow stand on his shoulders as their own dreams take form and they reach for the stars.