Concept and Director: Mayra Stergiou
Conceived and first shown a few years ago as a video piece, this is the live version of an idea that has sparked awards and much praise. It’s concerned with the idea of the Anthropocene, the name given to today’s geological epoch and the damage caused by human life.
On the event page for the show, we can see the clip promoting the video version. Shot well, it gives promise of a thoughtful, beautiful performance based on movement and interaction with physical, and symbolic, ice blocks. We’re informed that this piece will tell a story of human impact on our delicate environment, our race’s destructive and selfish force.
The live iteration, however, does not live up to this. It’s spread across a 30m stretch of stage, the audience seated alongside five principal performers who dance and twist in front of us. We can see, certainly, there’s an environmental message trying to break through – there’s some sticks as part of a procession, an ice block centre-stage, then another performer dressed as a polar bear. There’s some speech to help us along, though it comes in French first, then Spanish. We hear a mention of the end of the world, in Spanish, which is helpful as directional aid. Without much spoken word to go on, we rely on the movement, sound, music, visuals to tell the story. And here we come to rocky territory.
There’s attractive chaos in the movement of the six performers that certainly communicates distress. It’s difficult to discern patterns or themes beyond this distress, however, and tracking these performers across the lengthy stage to try and figure out a narrative line becomes a burden rather than a challenge.
The beginning section evolves into the performers stripping off their white one-piece coveralls they start with to just their underwear and smearing something (potentially wet modelling clay) all over themselves before dismembering the polar bear. For a period, they’re all bound by plastic cling-film, which then becomes a feature of their movement as they break free then re-engage with the material.
The vibe of danger and environmental panic is clear, but beyond that, there’s not a lot that comes across. It’s confusing, and tough to penetrate for the most part. Without some understanding of what it’s supposed to be, it would be difficult to find a clear message. The smart, important ideas expressed in the show notes do not shine through in this version.
A genuine highlight comes from the soundscape from Gregory Emfietzis. It’s highly engaging, running the gamut from elegant operatic styles to a fascinating composition that echoes the crackling of sticks underfoot.
It seems that there’s some significant changes from the video version of this work. Without the benefit of a lens to focus attention, or an editing suite to play with angles and presentation, we’re treated to a lot happening all at once without much context or explanation. There’s nothing at all wrong with theatre or performance that makes the audience work to fully engage with the piece, but here that goal feels out of reach.
Runs until 29 January 2023
