Unknown Realms ACE Dance and Music 2023 - Review

Photography by Brian Slater

The stage is dark lit by string lights and a single spotlight in the upstage right corner, illuminating the picnic table beneath. It’s vaguely eerie. This feeling is compounded when reading the equally vague synopsis, “…a metaphorical night where people try to do their last dance before an uncertain tomorrow…”.

The cast walk onto the stage in naturalistic costumes as if they’ve been plucked from their lives and thrust together for one night before the end of the world. The Night Before Tomorrow – TNBT, choreographed by Serge Coulibaly, begins. A humming bass comes out of the speakers making it sound like an alien blaring siren. The lights flash on the cast where they’re caught in a silent scream, pointing into their mouths like a cry for help.

Due to the vagueness of the synopsis, my mind raced to fill in the gaps. All the dancers have been randomly selected for an extraordinary night. Their movements are jagged, still screaming. Narratively, confusion ricochets between the dancers where they begin in canon before they break off into solos. Imogen Cooper shows off her absolute command of the stage, her movements are direct and grounded, truly a force.

Duets seem to almost organically form when tension bubbles to the surface. Duets start as dancers reflect each other then they overlap as if the higher power who brought them together is inciting violence between them. Duets still form and drop as accusations are thrown between the captives, this is shown through pointing and running and shouting. All the dancers show the power they possess in the choreography, effortlessly transitioning between the floor and standing.

One of the dancers comes forward and slowly begins to dance, the movement is looser as if he were in a club. This felt more relaxed and more like a rebellion against the instigated aggression. The score takes on a hypnotising thrum and the dancer begins a duet with the other male dancer. Both Mthoko Mkhwanazi and Thabang Motaung create contact points during their duet, the one that was most interesting was how they shared contact on their heads. The moment felt intimate as if they shared an understanding of something. As this was happening another dancer, Angharad Jones-Young really pulled focus as she pointed at the duet, silently shouting as if her character hated the display, then she seemed to start choking on her hatred. Jones-Young was super expressive in her performance and would draw you in.

Mkhwanazi and Motaung began to create rhythms with their feet, linking to the company’s roots in African and Caribbean dance. This body percussion would filter up so the dancers’ would tap their shoulders and knees.

This type of social dance seems to break the dancers out of a trance. There seemed to be a tug of war against the force trying to control them and their free will. The cast dance together again and their level of discipline is evident and as an ensemble, they feel completely harmonious. There’s a moment where they drop to the floor on their knees with their hands behind their head, surrendering to the higher power that compels them to perform.

The dancers fight back and the performance evolves into more of a party. The lights turn to different colours, red, purple, blue making it look like a camera lens changing. I thought I could hear an interpolation of Rhythm of the Night in the soundscape, but I couldn’t be sure.

The dancers had fought back against the higher power and they had created a community in this bubble. The soundscape changes and a voice begins to talk about oppression between the classes, working class people and those of the one percent and in power, which completely changed my understanding of the work. Instead of an abstract alien force controlling people, I interpreted it as a possible government that causes the characters to worry about the future. The sentiment seems to clash with the dancers partying but that was the point. Perhaps the dancers wanted the small joys through the struggle that make life worth living. The work seems to end with a feeling of dread however as Mirabel Huang-Smith jumps up onto the table in a panic and appears to be gagged, still trapped in the bubble, crying out for help. Strobe lights flash and it feels like cameras flashing with time suspending itself.

After the interval, the audience were abuzz with what the next work, Mana – The Power Within, choreographed by Vincent Mantsoe and Gail Parmel, would be. Again, the synopsis is as equally vague as the previous work which only heightens the anticipation. Words jump out, “Sacred, ritualistic and shamanic…” alluding to a spiritual, magical work and I couldn’t wait to watch it.

Six sticks line the stage before the dancers walk out, spotlights highlight them signifying their importance. The soundscape starts to creak, creating a foreboding atmosphere. The cast begin by lining the back of the stage before they begin their slow walk forward as if they’re being pulled inch by inch by the sticks.

Together the dancers move as one and display once again how harmonious they are as a cast. The dancers use their breath to punctuate each swing, each cut, each chest contraction all within their own section on stage. It feels like a suspension in time.

The sticks are sacred objects to regarded with reverence. The costuming is beautiful, it looked like woven leather of an ancient warrior’s garb. The dancers are warriors of an ancient faith. Oddly, it reminded me of the terracotta army of Qin Shi Huang, the first emperor of China. Those sculptures were to protect him in the afterlife.

Suddenly, the stage is doused in red light, seemingly washing the dancers skin with blood. Drums pound against my ears. They’re preparing for battle. They take hold of the sticks and they sweep and skim the floor, creating a formation of battle lines. It feels like there’s a spirituality in their sacrifice. A duet begins, thrusting forward with a lunge and retreating, depicting how to evade attacks and how to strike, only without their opponent. The troupe come together like a vanguard, steadfast for war.

Violins break the tension and a solo begins, succumbing to the faith, overwhelmed by it. White smoke drifts onto the stage which seems to make it even holier but there’s also something heart-breaking about it too.

Red lighting returns: another call to war. A soloist, Mkhwanazi steps forward, he weaves with the sticks, almost like an animal held in captivity and keeps absolute eye contact with the spectator—is he having doubts?

The final solo is what really stayed with me. Performed by Motaung; he was completely enraptured by the faith. His focus was glued to the sky, seeming to pray to the spiritual power. Red sand begins to fall from the sky and he covers himself in it, cupping his hands for more of it. Like he wanted to transcend into what he was worshipping. It reminded me of the devotion of a monk. Though the sand could also look like blood due to its colour. Finally, the sticks are returned to their original spaces, ready for the next followers of the faith.

Photography by Brian Slater

UNKNOWN REALMS – ACE DANCE AND MUSIC

THURSDAY 23RD FEBRUARY 2023, CORN EXCHANGE NEWBURY

Please check their website for upcoming performances of Unknown Realms.