The other week, I went to The End of the Golden Weather at the new Court Theatre. The play, Bruce Mason’s moving monologue about childhood summers and growing up, was brilliantly performed. I’d never been to a Mason play but my mother is a fan of his writing and that, alongside the opportunity to attend a show at Christchurch’s new Court Theatre, was a good opportunity.
The Court Theatre itself deserves a standing ovation. It’s a majestic new building, full of beautiful timber columns and beams, thoughtful acoustics, and the quiet confidence of a space that knows it’s going to host a lot of feelings. Sitting there in that architectural embrace, I couldn’t help but reflect: theatre like this, the real, artful kind, feels increasingly rare. So before I move on, I need to send some very genuine kudos to all those who helped The Court Theatre rise, Phoenix-like, from post-earthquake Christchurch.
And that’s when my brain, as it often does, took a sharp left turn and landed not on the stage, but in the startup world. Because while The End of the Golden Weather was full of genuine human emotion and tightly crafted storytelling, a different kind of play-acting is alive and well in the startup ecosystem.
You’ve probably seen it: the pitch decks that read like Pixar screenplays, the founders who are part motivational speaker, part futurist, part magician (with a disappearing business model), and the launch events that feel more like TEDx with free kombucha. Noted investor and alumnus of TradeMe, Xero, Vend and Timely, Rowan Simpson, once called this “startup theatre,” and he wasn’t handing out compliments. It’s the performance of innovation, slick, well-lit, and often completely detached from whether anything is actually being built.
Rowan’s work has been a much-needed cup of cold water to the face in a scene that too often confuses style for substance. But startup theatre isn’t just alive; it’s evolving. We’ve moved past the hackathon curtain calls and innovation bootcamps. There’s a new act in town, and it’s bolder, vaguer, and somehow both more and less ambitious than what came before.
I’m talking about the “idea generator” model.
Here’s the pitch I got recently: a team of Kiwi-rooted founders at a firm called that I won’t name, raising several million dollars to build startups from scratch. Not just one, mind you. Twelve. Per year. SaaS, AI, IoT, basically anything that’s been in a McKinsey report since 2016. The twist? They don’t quite know what the businesses will be yet. But they’ll figure it out. Maybe. Probably. Hopefully, before the funding runs out.
Now, I’m not here to dunk on ambition. I love ambition. I admire the sheer guts it takes to raise money for companies you haven’t invented yet. It’s a bit like crowdfunding a novel you haven’t written, or starting a band before you’ve bought instruments. There’s something almost poetically optimistic about it.
But it also feels like startup theatre’s final form: a dress rehearsal for a play that hasn’t been written, with a cast that hasn’t been hired, performed for an audience that’s mostly other actors waiting for their turn.
And yet, I get the appeal. Who doesn’t want to be part of the next big thing, especially if you can get in before it even knows what it is? Maybe this is just a new kind of theatre, one where the audience gets to write the ending. Maybe this time, it’ll work.
But sitting in the Court Theatre, watching a story crafted over years, performed with care, skill, and emotional depth, I couldn’t help but feel the contrast. Mason’s play reminded me that the best performances don’t rely on razzle-dazzle. They resonate because they’re rooted in something real. Something felt.
Startups, like plays, need a script. They need structure, stakes, and, above all, a reason to exist beyond just filling a slot in someone’s portfolio. So by all means, chase the dream, fund the idea generator. Just maybe take a moment to ask: are we building a real product and production? Or are we just very busy rehearsing for one?
Because whether you’re sitting in a darkened theatre or a VC boardroom, the same truth applies: eventually, the curtain goes up, and everyone can see whether there’s actually a show.
Your reflections highlight an important tension within the startup ecosystem, made even more relevant by the rapid advancement of agent-based models and AI-driven code generation. Now, more than ever, there’s a risk that spinning up ideas quickly and easily overshadows disciplined strategic planning.
Innovation certainly benefits from experimentation, but the “idea generator” approach,launching startups without clear problems or defined solutions,amplifies the risk of confusing genuine value creation with mere appearances. With AI-driven tools making prototyping and validation deceptively easy, the startup environment risks mistaking busy activity for genuine progress.
As you rightly point out, the best performances,whether on stage or in business, come from thorough preparation and a clearly defined vision. An intentional plan and set of deliberate actions matters now more than ever because the technological tools available can amplify both productive and superficial ventures equally.
The concern isn’t just the possibility of failure, startup culture already embraces and learns from this, but rather that the ecosystem itself might become overly performative, prioritising storytelling above substance. Programmer obsolescence and accessible automation present real opportunities, but they also demand greater clarity, and discipline from entrepreneurs and investors alike.
Ultimately, ambitious experimentation should remain encouraged, but it must be grounded in purpose, clearly identified challenges, and tangible outcomes. Your analogy hits home: it’s not about rehearsals but the real, meaningful production. We must ensure we’re creating something worth engaging with, using, and sustaining, rather than merely preparing for applause that may never arrive.
It’s not a real idea generator unless it has ‘studio’ somewhere in the pitch doc.