Fried Love Royal Disdain

Last night we -- which is to say: me, Ian, Antonio, David and Sarah, but that's just names in the æther to you -- went to Australian Dance Theatre's Birdbrain, a powerhouse display of vapid athleticism, full of sound and fury, cygnifying nothing. Though never exactly boring, this "deconstruction" of Swan Lake was pretty fucking tiresome. Brilliant and gorgeous dancers flung themselves across the stage with all the energy and technique you could wish for, in the service of... just... nothing.

Antonio described it as being like a 75 minute Gap advert, and it was, in a way. But even those bland 30 second slots at least have some wit to them. I'm not one of those people who demands meaning from dance -- that's a hiding to nothing -- but it has to engage me in some way, it has to capture something, create a spark. This was utterly soulless.

Well. Almost.

There was one tiny passage about halfway through that briefly flickered into life. Half a passage, really, playing counterpoint to yet more empty bombast on the other side of the stage. A tight-knit group of black swans withered and contorted under a yellow light, gnarled and detailed and intense. They dwindled, rallied. Took over the stage, for a moment.

I was reminded of other -- better -- pieces in the same space. Pieces with similar strategies, more successfully implemented. I was reminded of other -- better -- choreographers.

It was only a moment. I watched with hope, but there was nothing else like that. There were occasional glimpses of ingenuity, of dazzlement, that worked, were nice, were beautiful. But it was all, basically, rubbish.

This stuff is hard to describe -- and doing so probably doesn't help anyone much. Still, there are a few things I want to get down. Just a few.

We'll see if anything happens with that...
Posted by matt at March 3, 2005 11:26 PM