17 May 2012
Adelaide Festival Centre – In Space until May 26.
Purchase tickets at BASS
Leigh Warren’s latest dance work comprises three distinct chapters, each bound to the other by the notion of “equal footing” or “moving together”: pari passu (Latin, not French). Interactive multimedia technology describes and accentuates movement in a new way, whilst an exploration of human touch has the dancers connecting and disconnecting in turn.
Part one (titled random) showcases the lucid touchscreens which dominate Mary Moore’s set design. A seamlessly-tiled image of slate stone is stretched and morphed by some unseen force. Using their bodies the dancers are able to manipulate the projected images, to wondrous effect. Four silhouettes lined up against the screen play a game of Chinese whispers by movement. Prismatic bolts of energy connect them: a phrase begun by one dancer is continued, expanded upon or disregarded as it’s passed down the line. Fluid movement is translated into geometric shapes as a dynamic system of connect-the-dots forms, tracing arms and hands, legs and feet.
Where random demonstrates what the cool touchscreens are capable of, tangled is all about the dancers. Jesse Martin and Bec Jones partner up, delivering a pas de deux that’s sparking with fiery sensual energy. It’s great to see Lisa Griffiths again after her recent performance in Side To One. Although I preferred her partnership with Craig Bary in that previous production, here partnered with Timothy Farrar she again displays her incredible control and technique.
The third part, aptly named synchronic, brings all four dancers into militaristic unison. There’s a hypnotic repetition of beat, in the soundtrack and choreography. At best it feels neo-tribal, conjuring up a trance like state from the dancers whilst a projected vortex swirls unremittingly. Unfortunately the solo breakouts disrupt this mood, dissipating the powerful groundswell of kinetic energy that’s built up by the group.
The importance of the projection and music design of this piece cannot be understated, and here Adam Synnott excels. Transitions between the three parts are work mostly due to his contribution. Overall I didn’t find the work uniformly satisfying, but this could well be due to my individual taste. By its nature the structuring of this work allows for a diversity of expression, and while somewhat episodic this also ensures there’s something for everyone to engage with.
Green tea and wireless headphones, two things that I’ve never been given at a dance performance. It’s dark and I’m sitting in the Queen’s Theatre. Without the headphones on, I can’t hear anything. The entire audience sits in silence, waiting. Drinking green tea. The use of the headphones initially makes me feel totally disconnected from the performer, but in a few short minutes, I’m drawn in. There are no other distractions and it seems as if he is performing directly to me and only me. It’s as if there’s no one else in the entire theatre.
The location in the Botanic Gardens is used to its full advantage, a rope weaves the audience through the performance, it alternately guides, defines the performance space or forms characters. It’s a clever device that really helps to draw the audience into the piece, keep them moving and guessing. Between being admitted into gardens after hours and following the rope along secluded the paths, Eventyr gives you a sense of adventure right from the start, where will the rope lead us? what lurks in the gardens after everyone leaves for the day?
Yes it’s complex, but I was so engrossed in the performance that I didn’t have the opportunity to examine patterns and threads between science, dance and philosophy. It is only after you have seen the piece that the full impact, connotations and ideas really strike you.
