AC Arts, Main Theatre, Adelaide.
1 March 2025.
We wait in the dark theatre. The sounds of the audience murmuring fills the space, while on the stage, a single ball of light is suspended and lit like a full moon. The floor and backdrop are white. The audience quiets as a strip of light appears from upstage right down towards the lit sphere hanging downstage left.
Two dancers appear, Amber McCartney and Geoffrey Watson, clad in high vis tank tops and pants. A soundscape begins which hints at machination. The dancers move in small, almost convulsive movements, travelling down the path of light, sharing a mallet that they sometimes share, and which is sometimes held by one as they dance with it. The movement alternates between small isolations and more balletic movement, as if the dancers cannot decide who they are. They eventually make their way down to the illuminated orb at the end of the path and swing the mallet at it with all the might, stopping just an inch or so from making contact. Then, as if they had changed their minds, or felt the need to regroup, they move back down the path of light. At the end of the path are several objects arranged neatly on the floor in the upstage corner: four mallets, two pairs of safety glasses, and two black towels. They wipe their brows with towels, then cover their eyes with fluorescent yellow safety glasses.
The soundtrack changes, as does their movement. They both have mallets now, which they swing with all their might to pound the floor. The soundtrack is now filled with the sound of impact as they swing the mallets to make heavy contact with the floor. Their movements show incredibly strength and athleticism as they make their way down the path of light to the light ball. Once again, they swing their mallets at it with great power but stop just short of making contact.
Again, they return to the path origin. The third time, they make their way down to the orb; the rhythm is made by their feet, stomping and stamping, not quite like tap dance, but almost. The light has changed from a cool white and grows increasingly warmer. Finally, they reach the orb, and this time, they make contact. It explodes with the impact, shattering glass across the stage. They stand stunned, wondering what to do. Gingerly, McCartney places her bare foot on the glass and tests the impact of her weight. This is the turning point of the piece. The two are no longer in sync. As they both walk, the sound of their weight crunching the shattered glass is amplified.
Eventually, Watson leaves the stage, and McCartney wanders through the wasteland alone. Eventually, slowing to a stop to hold an arabesque. Watson returns, now clad in skin tone bodysuit. He carries crumpled up plastic, the sound of it crinkling filling the auditorium. Slowly, he dresses a catatonic McCartney in it – a full suit of plastic, including hood that Watson ties around her face. She moves slowly, as if in a trance, moving the floor and rolling on the glass, eventually slowing into stillness, lying on the broken glass, while Watson sweeps the glass in graceful arcs to create a thin diagonal line of crunchy glass. As he is close to achieving his goal, McCartney starts to fling the glass petulantly across the floor, undermining his efforts.
Eventually, she stands up and discards the plastic suit, and a menacing scene follows, filled with ominous shadows cast by the dancers on the white backdrop, the soundscape changing into music that gives the whole scene a feeling of Film Noir. It ends with Watson laying on the ground, as if dead. McCartney moves to the white cyclorama and traces her hands on it, leaving ripples on its surface and filling the theatre with the sound of her touch. She makes a strange sound, like a scream, but internalised and muffled.
Soon, she emerges again, crawling across the stage, her body clad in tight fitting, skin tone, her head covered with a mask like a pitball. She moves slowly, stopping to sniff the air, the glass, the supine body of Watson. She moves past him, continuing to explore the desolation, and eventually freezes. The lights fade. There is silence. Then, as the audience waits, someone starts to clap, and then applause explodes from the audience.
The performance had an enigmatic quality, characteristic of contemporary dance, that invited contemplation of Guerin’s intent and how she was communicating it through movement. The dancers were fantastic, demonstrating remarkable athleticism. The use of sound was incredibly effective, heightening the impact of each movement. I particularly loved the eventual smashing of the hanging light. It was a powerful, cathartic moment. However, after that moment, the performance felt as though it continued a little too long. While the eerie transformation of McCartney into a dog-like creature was striking — her movement perfectly capturing the essence of a dog ambling along, seeking out different scents — I felt the piece could have ended sooner without losing its impact. Nevertheless, it was a compelling and memorable performance that left the audience deep in thought long after the final blackout.
By Jo McDonald of Dance Informa.
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