Terrain.

DANCE.

July 2012. Bangarra Dance Theatre's Terrain @ SOH.

Bangarra Dance Theatre’s Terrain is a brilliant representation of Australian dance, and proof that this company is worthy of its title as Australia’s leading Indigenous performing arts company.  This piece beautifully moulded traditional elements within a contemporary dance context, revealing how this company is continuously evolving - fashioning choreographic elements in captivating ways.  All the theatrical components worked together seamlessly and the choreographed sections complemented one another with fluid transitions, unifying the piece as a whole to signify a ‘hymn to country’. Frances Rings translates the connection between us and the natural world through her thoughtful and beautiful choreography, drawing inspiration from Kati Thanda (Lake Eyre).  Composer David Page, Jacob Nash's set design, Jennifer Irwin's costumes, and lighting designer Karen Norris each need to be commended for their depiction of landscape and the powerful atmosphere created on stage.

The core fascination of this work was the creation of shapes.  From the artistic bold lines and patterns on the backdrops, to the constantly manoeuvring forms of the dancers in the space on stage - there was an exhibition of varying formations.  At times these were the literal manifestations of human bodies, whilst also transforming into metaphoric depictions of landscape and natural elements.  This revealed the capacity of this piece to engross the audience to a point where we no longer see the distinction between these two, but rather become enveloped in the storytelling through the dance.  

The opening sequence, Red Brick, introduced an amalgamation of bodies that moved together before breaking apart and playing with patterns of bodies.  Female bodies became wrapped around the males’ bodies with ease, who acted as strong partners.  Dancer Deborah Brown appeared to float through levels of space with their invisible support.  This section established soft physical shapes and lines, which transcended throughout the entire piece.   Sliding and lifting, the dancers transformed and travelled through space affluently.  This section captivated and almost had a hypnotic effect, with its tranquil nature.  

The following section Shields was a welcome juxtaposition to the soft opening, as the men’s ensemble carried white shields, which were cleverly used as a choreographic tool.  The movements were sweeping, feeding into one another, with the dancers’ knees supporting deep lunges and bends, and allowed the movement to display a connection to the ground and earth.  Questions of identity were communicated as the shields often covered the men’s faces- In one solo section the shield replaces the dancer’s head, becoming an extension of the body, shaping and guiding him.  Or perhaps it was also protecting him.  We heard the music chanting “land rights” in repetition, reflecting the human connection to the land and the struggle to keep this connection and the larger political issue about legal land entitlements.  This social statement was finely tuned through performance with the discernible symbols of protection, defence and identity.

Reborn cast a group of one female and three males, to the sound of string instruments, a cello played while the group captured the lamenting mood through movement.  The choreography here was often intimate, encircling and encasing, as the bodies reached and extended over and through one another.  Here the feeling of ritual and tradition is encapsulated within the use of space.  Alternatively Spinifexwas distinctly inspired by nature, specifically trees, as the women’s ensemble wore branches on their heads as a clever and simple extension on their costuming.  These women appeared to be at one with nature, symbolically and metaphorically.  They swirled their long skirts, the fluid movements accented with disjointed isolations and strong head movements, bringing nature to life.

In Salt a male pas de deux, performed by Daniel Riley McKinley and Kaine Sultan-Babij, was a defining focal point.  They were aware of each other through all their senses, finely in tune, allowing them to move in unison and reflection without error.  Working on lower and upper levels, their torso’s guided their gestures through strong angles and aided in the pull between body parts.  Opposing movements and opposing forces.  This segment displayed very particular placements of body parts, such as elbows, which tapped the ground deliberately.  Some sort of abstract powers seemed to be at work through the energies occurring on stage.

The next section Scar, was reminiscent in the costumes and movement of a punk-like aesthetic.  Darkness and faster deliverance saw collapsing, rolling and disjointed bodies and movement, battling and raging.  An unbalance was created in this segment, represented deeply through Elma Kris’ solo as she flailed, reached out, collapsed, hunched and retracted.  With torso and head lowered, the dancers did not seem at peace with the earth unlike the other segments.

The final three sections Landform, Relfect and Deluge, although each holding different characteristics, worked at healing the disruption that had been created on stage and bringing the human-earth connection back.  Within the slow movements here, we witnessed traditional elements being explored with affectations and smooth, continual choreography.  Upper torso’s isolated and undulated, and the knees were bent and active, picking up the feet and allowing the bodies to sweep the space.  Using tools including streams of light, wind chimes, and apparently levitating female dancers we viewed a healing transformation and re-connection between us and the earth.

To witness ‘Terrain’ is to witness Australia’s history as well as present, with artistic and intellectual depth that was communicated through a contemporary dance piece that is worthy of the standing ovation it received.

Be Your Self.

DANCE.

2012. Australian Dance Theatre's Be Your Self @ Sydney Theatre.

We have all heard of, if not dabbled in the practice of self-enquiry- a search for self-realization or even enlightenment. Who are we? Who am "I"? And where does our body and mind connection truly lie? Such deep investigation was embodied in this clever new work, as Gary put the human body on display and forced the audience to inspect it. Along with such physical enquiry came aesthetic and visual prowess, which made this performance a truly exciting accomplishment to watch.

Australian Dance Theatre’s Be Your Self is a vibrant and engaging work. From ‘squeaking’ joints to deceptive costuming and protruding limbs, Gary Stewart’s choreography is cleverly paired with an unpredictable electronic score. The addition of spoken word, video and architectural design was also produced with purpose and satisfied intent. Above all, the slamming and jamming of the dancers’ bodies leaves a powerful impact, each of them well equipped to deal with the physical demands of the piece. This Sydney premiere season proved that ADT is very much a driving force in dance innovation.

From the outset, Kimball Wong produced slow, controlled movements, his body distinctly displaying obvious skills- balance, strength, and flexibility. The audience watched him bend, extend and shape his body in choreographically simple movements, allowing us to admire the focus and pure physical athleticism of his body - an external analysis. Simultaneously, Annabel Giles stood alongside him and scientifically transcribed his movement, transforming these actions into complex muscular and chemical reactions. Suddenly it became an internal analysis, highlighting cause and effect which often go unnoticed. We move. But how do we move? Gary transforms the body into a mechanical marvel right before our eyes.

This concept is continued throughout, but is especially fundamental in the final excerpt, which was a stellar conclusion to the piece. Using an architectural wall as a playground, the dancers’ bodies are deconstructed. A head becomes an entity of its own, as does an arm, a leg, and a torso. Limbs pop up through this clever visual creation and become formidable components of a bigger picture. Which limb belongs to which dancer? Who is who? Different body parts combine to form virtual visual bodies, but identity is lost. It no longer matters. We inspect each body part and the fascinating qualities each holds. Mouths open, silently ‘singing’, represented by beautiful video patterns streaming from their lips along the wall. Weaving and intertwining amongst the loose limbs, creating poetic lines and shapes.

Be Your Self attests that these dancers are athletes. They confidently throw their bodies into the air and ground, masters of utilising gravity as well as deceiving it. Quick and violent gestures accompany the mimed screams, simultaneous to screeching sound effects, as their bodies bend and thrash in all directions. Limbs fly and backs undulate. There are body rolls, break dancing moves, and collapsing knees. The energy and commitment to each movement needs to be commended. Yet they possess fluidity and control that allows the audience to be comfortable with their violent gestures. This not only protects their bodies, but insanely exposure the capabilities of the human body.

The sense of self is lost, and then it is found. A constant battle represented by the chaotic movements, but also through their articulate use of expression as well as metaphoric representations. At times they looked lost, at times empowered, but always in control.

The struggle to be your-self was captured brilliantly in this physical and emotive work. And there isn’t a better dance company to challenge audience perception about the power of the human body.

Game On.

DANCE.

A 2011 oldie.  Game On @ SOH. 

Are music and dance truly universal languages? Game On is a collaborative force that consciously breaks the barriers between cultures, different times and art forms. Indian tabla player Bobby Singh joins contemporary dancer Miranda Wheen to explore what happens when two very diverse traditions collide. In this case the collision resulted in each form complimenting, challenging, and interacting with the other in an intimate conversation the audience was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of.

The skill and talent these two artists display in their respective roles is undeniable, but what this performance best demonstrates is a spectacular ability for them to listen, understand and respond to each other. The performance begins as the artists are acquainted – music and dance as separate entities – before developing into an interactive collaboration. At times the music inspires the dance, and at others the dance motivates the music. They play. Cheeky at times, encouraging each other on, watching and waiting. Overall they are organically in tune with each other, and while each artist succeeds in displaying the full arc of their individual talent, the performance becomes truly astounding once they find a common ground.

Interestingly, by the end of the performance we find musician Singh has himself become a kind of dancer, albeit seated, with fingers, hands, arms and mouth moving at captivating speeds. Wheen on the other hand is the dancer transformed into traveling musician, tapping and beating her hands and feet, her body creating rhythms that are visual and audible. Music and dance mold into one, and the juxtaposition of traditional Indian tabla to contemporary dance becomes forgotten. 

Wheen displays a freedom of movement that is contagious, sweeping the audience up in her ability to use the space. Her arms create a momentum that allows her torso to collapse and catch, lifting her legs and wrapping them about her upper body. This same momentum is captured and re-captured, a breath, a turn, a slide. Her body motions through the beats and rhythms, arching, hunching, stretching and spiraling, while her fingers click, curl and pull.

Attention is sent back and forth between them, allowing us to observe a translation between bodies. Between practices, cultures and traditions. This is enabled by the close connection the pair have clearly established. Singh’s eyes are finely in tune with Wheen’s traveling body, and Wheen investigates the rhythms and patterns of Singh’s drumming. At times she crouches to listen intently, clapping out his rhythmic song: Da din din da, da din din da. We all feel the rhythm and learn the rhythm, which Wheen then translates and arouses through her body as the beats accelerate. Her body muses the accents in pace, transposed by hand gestures and highlights in movement. Slow yet dynamic. Swaying and circling, her vigorous interpretation of Singh’s music creates vibrations through the audience.

In one delightful section, the duo surprise each other (and the audience) in a cheeky improvisation. He follows her steps and gestures: a step, a walk, a kick, a balance, a collapse, a rise, a finger roll. Each muscle and joint manipulation finds its response in the music. She states it with movement, he states it with drums: tangible and reflexive, as they instigate, stir and encourage each other.

Creating music together, Wheen transforms it into dance, moving in sometimes curved and other times straight pathways across the stage. Forward, back, diagonal; it is their conversation but she dances for the audience. Letting them in on their new secret vocabulary. In conclusion they play into the darkness, leaving us with the memory of a unique collaborative experience.

In this performance music and dance did in fact create a universal conversation, by bringing together two traditions that rubbed up against each other in ways never imagined.

Directed by Annalouise Paul

Belong.

DANCE.

A 2011 oldie.  Bangarra Dance Theatre's Belong @ SOH.

Bangarra Dance Theatre, Australia’s premier Indigenous performing arts company, presented a beautiful double-bill consisting of About, choreographed by Elma Kris, and ID, choreographed by Artistic Director Stephen Page.

Often when observing a company like Bangarra it is easy to get caught up in a political and social analysis of the dance work. As an Indigenous Arts company people tend to bring certain expectations to the production, although this is arguably true of all companies. Expectations of what should be presented, of what is politically or artistically correct or incorrect. Such debate seems to excel when Indigenous art is involved, where merit is judged by how traditional or contemporary it may be, or how these two elements are fused. But why must it be assessed in this way? Why can we not instead look at it without passing judgment and enjoy it for what it is?

Choreographer and dancer Elma Kris’ piece About opened the performance with a mesmerizing and captivating vocabulary of dance movement, embodying the mood of the winds. Here the dancers were able to show off their versatility and skill, with extended lines of the body and limbs being highlighted and exposed. This piece was all about the movement, a fresh and raw showing of bodies on stage. The piece quickly established a contagious flow in the movement, as legs swept across the stage, and limber bodies pushed their extremities. The deliberate muscular control created this continuous current, which was accented with particular undulations and detachments. Curved and long lines were broken as angled torsos bounced with momentum, as though buffeted by wind. Extended arms and legs became disjointed as elbows and knees firmly retracted and stretched.

Even though Bangarra do present political and social themes in their works, I don’t think it is important to analyze the performance from such a perspective, but rather to look at the dance itself. We should appreciate what is being displayed, rather than contemplating if the company is doing the right or wrong thing in the medium of dance.

After all, Bangarra is a company that represents contemporary Indigenous society and artists. It is in fact an innovative company that successfully challenges perceptions, but at the end of the day produces remarkable pieces of dance. So let's talk about that. Let's talk about the performance that is being presented on stage to the audience, rather than judging its merit for how traditional or contemporary it may be. Let us appreciate the dance for what it is.

At first the women danced alone, then the men, before at last joining together, creating a contemporary unified dance. A harmony was felt between the bodies, each relying on their neighbour, as they brushed through the space on the stage.

Artistic Director Stephen Page presented a very different second half with his piece ID. As the title suggests, this section created scenarios that questioned identity, with poignant and sometimes humorous moments. The theatrics and images presented on stage were powerful, and interplayed with strong dancing once again.

Employing a screen on stage, the dancers moved seamlessly from their virtual identities to their real selves. Creating an eerie and entrancing atmosphere, the bodies separated from and returned to their spiritual selves – to their past and their culture – twisting and turning, creating strong shapes through space. A man beat his chest and legs, incorporating movements that exposed extreme upper body strength and technical feats.

A memorable section involved five dancers: a male, with the number ‘1’ written on his chest; and four females with different fractions written on their backs signifying their Indigenous lineage. Wearing very little, the performers were clearly on display. Portraying difference, yet were harmonious, as they danced in unison.

Throughout the piece there are truly exquisite moments. The partner work was flawless and delicate. At times we were refreshed with ritualistic gems, including the use of swinging branches, traveling sequences, and a strong connection to the ground through stampings. Bodies breaking, swirling, collapsing then lifting, limbs shooting out, reaching and pushing to their extremities. Falling. Rising. Faces being painted.

In one segment a plastic bag is forced over a male dancer’s head. Struggling and imprisoned his body bends over, hunched and breaking, rebounding with every fall and hit. A tortured body, a tortured soul, a tortured people. His knees undulated as he squirmed, muscles contracting and collapsing powerfully, before being dragged off.

The movement was beautifully reflective and representative of the thematics of identity and performance, employing the power of dance to provoke the situation of contemporary society.

The composer for both pieces, David Page, along with Steve Francis for About, need to be acknowledged for the elaborate music and soundscape. Their incredible perception and connection to the choreography is innate and uninterrupted, using a range from natural sounds to electronica. All elements, including the simple yet striking sets aided to the creation of a unified presentation.

Fathom.

DANCE.

A 2011 oldie. Dean Walsh's Fathom @ CarriageWorks.

Devised by Dean Walsh

The depths of the seas have long fascinated human kind.  We dream about beautiful mermaids, poor lost Atlantis and ghosts from the Titanic traipsing the oceanic unknown.  Curiosity becomes us; add in imagination, and the limits are endless.  In Fathom, Dean Walsh presents us with a solo concoction of nostalgia, environmental concern, thought-provoking facts and creative ideas to question in his own unique way, “What lies beneath?”

The stage was bound by hazard tape, while chains and fishing line defined the space.  Walsh stood hauntingly in the corner, fishing rod in hand, pulling at an unattainable bait in the center of the stage.  Face covered, he was an unknown identity representing perhaps an individual, perhaps a generation or indeed, humanity itself.
This establishing image resonated throughout the performance, inviting us to question not only our lives as land-dwellers and our curiosity with the water, but with the impact humans have on the environmental well-being of life below.  Water acts as a barrier for humans to a world we are yet to completely explore or understand.  Yet our actions destroy, hurt and pollute. We ask ourselves, what is the relationship we really have with the sea?

Eventually the barriers are physically ripped, cut and broken down.  Restraints are banished.  Boundaries pushed, environments expanded.  After all we are all part of one world and we should look after it, whether we see beyond the surface of crashing waves or not.  This reminds us to maintain the peace, tranquility and beauty of nature and the sea that we so very much love. The human element of the performance was juxtaposed with Walsh’s transformation into sea creatures, one affecting the other in a series of shifts.  Shift in form, movement, costume and sound.  Through this the audience saw into Walsh’s imagination and his underwater world.

Walsh attempted to create a vocabulary for the sea characters he embodied.  Angular shapes freeze in space; knees and arms unfold and close around the pelvis and chest; twisting, turning and shuffling through space; broad sweeping of the limbs; sliding, squirming and oozing on the floor; muscles jolting, strained and stressed.  Characters possessed different qualities, as Walsh transformed through yellow and then black, became a whale, and then (in what one may almost consider a humorous drag number) a green queen, amongst others.  They saw, searched, screamed, wailed, stripped, loved and cried: each giving a possible insight into this aquatic dream as well as providing food for thought.

A memorable sequence saw Walsh standing at front of stage, with a solitary light shining brightly down upon him.  Shielding his eyes in desperate protection he cleverly unfolded an umbrella, holding it upside down, to reflect the light up and out.  Hooking it to the fixture it cupped the light in a lovely climax to the performance.  The rays were shifted powerfully upwards, illuminated him eerily below.  This image was reminiscent of light entering water, reflecting and scattering into the depths.  Waving cheekily to the audience Walsh’s movements become tense and stiff, before he firmly gripped the tip of the umbrella in his teeth.  Becoming part of the body it created an arresting visual.  As he moved across the stage the open umbrella made Walsh look fantastical, a creature of myth both abstract and beautiful.

The music effectively transported the piece through tranquility and chaos, supporting the changing environments and character moods.

Overall Walsh presented the audience with some beautiful moments, yet bombarded them with an overwhelming amount of visual change and ideas.  This is a developing work that would be interesting to follow, but perhaps slowing down and separating ideas would help with clarity and contemplation.  Compliments should be made to Walsh for his environmentally conscious attempts at communicating through performance, and his gutsy presentation of imagination.  

Briwyant & Uneasy Futures Launch.

DANCE.
A 2011 oldie. Vicki Van Hout's Briwyant & Performance Space's Uneasy Futures launch @ CarriageWorks.

Directed by Vicki Van Hout

Performance Space launched their Uneasy Futures season on Thursday night, creating a buzz of excitement with their World of Things in the foyer of host venue CarriageWorks. A pick-and-mix of delightful and ‘awfully wonderful’ things entertained the large crowd that gathered. Adam Norton’s Mars Gravity Simulator 2010/2011transported us to space in his defiance of gravity, Simon Yates’ Metropolis Robot (Futura) 2011 shocked people as it suddenly began to move when left to its own devices, and Hayden Fowler’s Anthropocene 2011 set a monument to the last day on Earth. The launch introduced a season of visual and performing arts that contemplate visions of the future and of moving towards the unknown, with work from version 1.0, Dean Walsh, exhibitions Awfully Wonderful, and The Disappearances Project.  

One of the new works is Vicki Van Hout’s Briwyant, which concluded the launch with a bang, explorinng Indigenous cultural expression in a multifaceted approach to performance.

The stage was littered with playing cards. Each strategically arranged to stand erect, cleverly positioned to form a visual three-dimensional landscape. Aesthetically intriguing they became trees ... or were they buildings, creating a span of country, town and city. This is where the performance started and finished: with cards. Not only did they act as visual art on stage, and supported the performance as props, but introduced strong themes of luck, chance, and game, reminiscent of Italo Calvino's The Castle of Crossed Destinies. Life as a game. This gave precedence for a decisive and thoughtful telling of Indigenous traditions within city life, using humor, wit, and knowledge to flow beautifully through the human body and multimedia forms in this strong presentation.

As these tales were told the dancers bodies expressed them through movement, clearly translating emotions, relationships and personal stories. The opening sequence introduced the bodies, pressing against a malleable white wall, escaping through and presenting them in front of us. Despite their initial physical struggle we are let into their worlds and allowed to witness their stories, which become the next hour of the audiences’ lives. Combining traditional and contemporary dance elements the bodies transgress time and space, speaking to the past and present, and tactfully educate and entertain. Dancers Henrietta Baird, Ian RT Colless, Ghenoa Gela Raghav Handa, Vicki Van Hout and Mel Tyquin communicate these messages with commanding internal and external commitment.

The dancers press together in powerful partner work throughout, showing a confidence and coordination between them. Together they pull and turn away, struggling and leaping with strong sharp momentum. A strong focus is put on the torsos which scoop and circle, isolated from the head undulations and movements. Heads and arms flick while legs rotate and kick, limbs flinging and circulating. Gestures are interwoven into contemporary choreography, where stillness highlights the flowing movement.

An influential third player is introduced into the partnerships: a shawl. At times the women nurture them in their arms in a metaphoric sign of motherhood, wrapping heads in them and leading the dance, before using them as an interlocking device with their partners. Circling, pulling and sliding these teams support each other, upright and proud before tearing away into rolls and tumbling.

This performance was all about shape and space. And it was done in great detail. The layout of the stage was very precise, and focused the movements around and within it. The dancers timelessly wandered through the space and scenery created by the playing cards, contrasting to their sitting in a tent or laying chatting. Formations were direct and intentional, with lines, circles and patterns mingling amongst the space as well as lines of light.

The bodies used shape and space, creating angles as the arms played with right angles in traditional formations, as well as humorous ways. The torso remained the power base of the movement while the elbows lead movements and pulled the bodies off center with control. Knees shook and exposed fluid movements within the hips, knees and ankles. Backs slumped over before erecting in repetitive successions. Liquefied rolls through the body contrasted to the still angles and sharp gestures, whilst clapping and slapping flowed through time, accenting the dancing and stories.

Credit must be given to all involved in the production, with the multimedia elements being complex and fruitful to the performance. Fragments of light littered the stage throughout, whilst clever photographic flashes in one moment awaken the senses and draw the audience in to the media world on stage. Live recording was employed, as well as shadows, and silhouettes on a screen, enacting message and meaning. All elements lay foundations for the dancing at times, whilst complimenting and corresponding to it at other times. Still photos were displayed in video form, along with snippets of video footage and scopes, playing with multifaceted levels of technology and performance. The music moves in and out of silence, static, versus electronic calming sounds. It all came together as a complimenting piece of artistry, to display social and political messages.

These performance elements were a wonderful device in communicating messages of past into present; rural into suburban. Is it a plight for ecstasy? For sex, money, love, possessions? A male cross dresses, another knows where to find the best cuts of meat, another drinks in a pub, while a lady shops for a bargain at a pawn shop. It’s local knowledge to them, but how does this translate from the dreamtime to the present? In the end the cards are destroyed. The land is destroyed. Leaving us only with the people and their stories.

Artists: Marian Abboud, Kay Armstrong, Henrietta Baird, Ian Colless, Elias Constanopedos, Imogen Cranna, Ghenoa Gela, Raghav Handa, Guy Harding, Vicki Van Hout, Mel Tyquin.

Shared Frequencies.

DANCE.

A 2011 oldie. Sydney Dance Company's Shared Frequencies @ Sydney Theatre.

Featuring Rafael Bonachela’s LANDforms and Jacopo Godani’s Raw Models

Sydney Dance Company’s world premiere season of Shared Frequencies is a double bill showcasing the talent of local and international dance, along with original music scores and live music accompaniment. The program consists of Artistic Director Rafael Bonachela’s LANDforms along with Jacopo Godani’s commissioned work Raw Models. This is the first time Australian audiences are seeing Godani’s work, and neither he nor Bonachela disappoint.

Godani’s Raw Models exhibits the bodies of seven very capable dancers, moving to an original score commissioned by SDC collaborators 48 Nord. The acoustic-electro sounds result in a beautifully chaotic mixture of music that powerfully initiates the movements of bodies. The beats and subtle melodies control the movement flow, yet crackling and static sounds juxtapose the incredible control and continuous flow the dancers produce. 

The stage is a melting pot of bodies in motion. Moving as if in liquid, curvaceous lines of limbs push the air away, stressing their extremities. The strong and versatile bodies of the dancers intertwine whilst each undulates, rippling and swelling. The bones become liquefied, spines and torsos curving and rolling, continuously unfolding within their personal space.

Head-rolls instigate incessant currents through the body, torsos playing with movement and positioning. Balletic lines are defused, with flexing hands feeling the pulsating rhythms; pulling and tearing, reaching and distilling. The dancers create the space when spiraling smoothly to the floor and back, and weaving through the space. They dot the stage with their bodies.

Godani’s clever use of bright white lighting leaves us wanting more and celebrates the vast use of space, as bodies appear, disappear, and reappear in lines and formations, creating shapes in general space and independently with their own limbs. From darkness come bodies. In moments of bodily contact these dancers hold a magnetic quality, holding and releasing each other in waves of momentum.

A particular highlight of Raw Models is the group work; quick, precise and technically skillful as dancers fall confidently to the floor and through horizontal and vertical space. They are poised. Ready for a challenge. Challenging each other. Challenging us.

Utilising all 15 dancers Bonachela’s Land Forms is the longer piece, but both share a beautiful obsession with movement-flow and, stylistically compliment each other well. The memorable beginning offers an incredible softness, with a single body flowing through the live accompaniment of Ezio Bosso, pianist and composer of the original score. Joining him throughout are Geoffrey Gartner on cello, Veronique Serret on violin, and Katie Noonan with vocals.

The dancers display incredible control and training, as the strength in the muscles ensure the extremities remain soft. Hanging limbs. The bodies contort, creating sharp angles of arms and legs contrasted to the curved lines created through the neck and back. Throughout the piece, the angles unfold, limbs open, and bodies curl and roll. Contractions dominate the on-stage vocabulary, as torsos bend over and in on themselves before opening out through the chest and back, elongating, stretching and extending in fluid motion.

Limbs cross bodies, flinging delicately. The lines are continuous extensions from the inside of the body, excelling in strength and ease of movement. This resonates in the use of weight, falling on and off their centers, passionately contracting.

Bonachela demonstrates a keen understanding of his dancer's surroundings, and his creation of the environment here is outstanding. During moments of movement other dancers enter into stillness, becoming aspects of the set before coming to life. We see the amazement of nature within the amazement of the human form. Smooth cyclical melodies provide comfort, and at times the music overtakes and becomes the hero of the piece. The swelling music is brilliantly complimented in conjunction with the choreography. Changing tempos highlights the shared dynamic between musicians and dancers. Noonan’s voice gives a sublimely delicate essence to the piece near the end, haunting and pure.

One movement of the piece sees light shone straight at us, as designed by Mark Dyson. Suddenly self-awareness is forced upon us, realizing ourselves in the equation. For a brief and inspired moment the attention is on us, before returning to the stage, to the dancers, and restoring the expected equilibrium of the performance. The light becomes obvious as dancers move amongst it, within it. Later, stems of light mark out the ground, forming foundations to be acknowledged with movement. Deliberate slithers of light are a controllable or perhaps uncontrollable force, which then transforms into squares of light. Dancers anguish, curling and uncurling amongst the tiles of the stage. The lighting becomes a performer, as dancers step in and out, bathe, and shed light.

The partner work is secure and captivating, as the dancers encompass each other, pushing and pulling in effortless coupling. The females and males are equally capable and their skill and versatility cannot be denied. The sex of the dancers becomes neutral and irrelevant, as partnerships swap and mix to display the prowess and power of the human form.

By close we have seen dramatics diminish to stillness, and a rain creates a dividing wall on the stage. Sprayed within a line of light, the dancers play with it. Feel it. Dance it. Live it.