The first a part of Whenua closes with the voice of celebrated choreographer Rodney Bell (Ngāti Maniapoto), his phrases projected in purple throughout a slanting white display — “Ko au ko koe, ko koe ko au”: I’m you, and you’re me.
Connections to 1 one other and to the land are central themes of this placing double-bill from the New Zealand Dance Company. The present, which received acclaim on its European tour earlier this 12 months, contains “Imprint”, choreographed by Bell and Malia Johnston; and “Uku — Behind the Canvas”, choreographed by Eddie Elliott (Ngāti Maniapoto). The artistic imaginative and prescient underpinning these thrillingly totally different items shines by way of in each the manufacturing’s technical elements and its tremendously gifted performers (Katie Rudd, Brydie Colquhoun (Ngāti Kawa, Ngāpuhi), Bianca Hyslop (Ngāti Whakaue), ‘Isope ‘Akau’ola (Utulau, Lotofoa; Tonga), Kosta Bogoievski, and Jeremy Beck (Ngāi Tahu/Kai Tahu)).
Whenua is an engrossing expertise, rooted in Te Ao Māori and mixing conventional and trendy types of dance in an modern but accessible approach.
We are guided into “Imprint” by a collection of embraces. The dancers transfer amongst each other, wrapping their arms round every member of the corporate in flip; holding the form of that embrace after it has ended. Right away we’re launched to the guts of the work — the indelible impressions individuals go away on different individuals and their environment, and which our environment go away on us. The performers show a powerful fluidity and management, added to at instances by a mesmerising weightlessness. There’s each a sharpness and style to their actions as “Imprint” cycles by way of what is perhaps known as numerous ‘phases’. Each one locations a single dancer centerstage, permitting them to point out off their abilities earlier than returning once more to the collective.
These phases are heralded by transient soundbites, largely of Bell’s voice, and a musical transition. Eden Mulholland’s compositions embody calming nature-inspired sounds, choral preparations, and rhythmic modern beats. From the soothing to the staccato, the music traces the journey of the dancers by way of the piece. Rowan Pierce’s AV, spatial and lighting design is equally expressive. Slower sequences typically characteristic a type of smoky lighting from above and both facet of the stage, whereas a row of bulbs on the again flash on and off brightly through the extra frenetic moments. A recurring method is the usage of a highlight at one finish of the house, which the dancers lean into as if listening for one thing. I notably loved the second when two dancers swirled collectively behind the oblong white display in the midst of the stage, their shadows blurred and multiplied; reminiscent once more of Bell’s phrases: I’m you, and you’re me.
The display performs a extra outstanding position than I’d initially anticipated, elevating and decreasing at totally different factors within the piece. So, too, does the white material laid out onstage virtually ceremonially at the beginning. It transforms satisfyingly from one thing the dancers dance on to one thing they dance with, later being gathered up beneath their ft and draped throughout their shoulders. It’s acceptable that the set must be built-in into the efficiency on this approach; linked collectively simply as physique and land are linked.
“Uku — Behind the Canvas” is a special beast, and feels just like the true headliner of Whenua. If the phrase I might use to summarise “Imprint” is movement, “Uku” radiates energy. The heightened drama of this work is conveyed by a darker, starker stage than what we noticed in “Imprint”, with no display and as an alternative a backdrop resembling, fairly aptly, a canvas. Rona Ngahuia Osborne’s set design is complemented by Jo Kilgour’s lighting: quite a lot of the piece takes place in and round shadows. All of this invests “Uku” with a suitably mythic high quality. Drawing on the Māori creation story of Hineahuone, the primary girl molded from the earth by Tāne, it opens with the dancers crouched in a line on the entrance of the stage like creatures not but made. Through energy and battle, they pull themselves up, or are pulled up by others.
There’s a solidity to the dancers’ actions all through that displays the uncooked, explosive nature of this work. Exploring inside and exterior battle and the place of tangata whenua, it’s the wāhine posing the query: “Is this my land?” I felt a better sense of the narrative ‘arc’ of this piece, and was intrigued to seek out the storytelling executed by way of the dancers’ voices in addition to their our bodies. “Uku” replaces their delicate exhales and exclamations in “Imprint” with a full-blown vocal efficiency, involving waiata (“Tai Aroha”) and haka. Eddie Elliott’s daring choreography calls for consideration; as does the music created with Jason Wright and Alistair Deverick, which features as an efficient, typically ominous soundscape combining the primordial with the commercial.
Most compelling is the usage of clay, with the performers smearing it on themselves, each other, and the stage. An apparent reference to the earth out of which Hineahuone was shaped, the clay reveals clearly on their darkish costuming (additionally by Osborne), enabling them to actually put on that story on their our bodies. The streaks of clay additionally inform the story of the bodily house, marking the place every dancer has been like a map. It’s a map that grows extra complicated because the piece builds in depth together with the dancers’ actions. At instances they’re locked collectively; at others, they break aside violently. When that pressure is launched partway by way of the work, we’re handled to a playful metatheatrical interlude, involving the wāhine passing commentary on the tāne. That interlude acts as a shocking turning level, with the feelings ramping up much more strongly than earlier than. Yet regardless of its rage, or maybe due to it, “Uku” ends on a quieter word — a dimming stage and a dancer’s handle to Papatūānuku, confirming: “This is my home”.
Whenua performed the Q theatre the 10-Eleventh of April 2024
