Death Trap – Theatre Royal Newcastle

Music: Yshani Perinpanayagam

Director: Ben Duke

Rambert has a special place in the hearts of dance lovers. It is Britain’s oldest dance company, formed in 1926 as a classical ballet troupe. Almost 100 years later, it has evolved into an internationally renowned contemporary dance company, with a justified reputation for combining excellence and innovation. This piece clearly demonstrates both elements. Death Trap is described in the online programme as, “A meta dance comedy, full of the turbulence of life and death.” It consists of two short pieces, Cerberus and Goat.

Cerberus begins with an announcement by dancer Aishwarya Raut that she will be entering from the right of the stage, which will symbolise her birth; her exit stage left will represent her death, and what happens in between will represent her life. She enters, attached to a rope. After a brief dance solo showing struggle and pain, she is pulled off stage left. The convention that stage left represents a portal to the underworld is observed throughout the piece.

There follows a sequence where fellow dancer Antonello Sangirardi laments her passing, calling to her, speaking Italian, translated for the audience by Alex Soulliere, and she answers him with some requests for her funeral. Fortuitously, perhaps, the musicality of their forenames as they call to each other adds a strange beauty. Sangirardi resolves to try to stop people going through the portal, as we observe a stream of dancers making the journey in a sequence of stunning shapes and imaginative physical interactions. Ultimately, he decides to go through the portal to bring her back, whereupon it is made clear that this is a version of the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. He enters the underworld, where we see various people trying to bring others back from the dead, though there seems little prospect of their success…

Accompanied by onstage drummer Romarna Campbell and Jonny Wickham’s guitar, it uses a tapestry of music of various styles, including a breathtaking live rendition of Monteverdi’s Lamento della Ninfa by Caroline Jaya-Ratnam. In one section it even becomes a stunning interpretation of electropop. Somehow, these musical transitions never jar, and the music serves the dance well.

Devised by Ben Duke, a pioneer of this style of theatre that combines words, music and dance, this is fascinating and absorbing piece. Whilst there is some comedy, it explores mortality, grief, longing, and the desperate human quest for rebirth. The infinite invention in the ways that bodies can interact and express emotion, whilst making astonishing shapes and patterns is a testament to Duke’s and his assistant choreographer, Winifred Burnet-Smith’s, boundless imagination. The dancers are exceptional, combining flawless classical technique with extraordinary flexibility and a firm grasp of different dance genres.

The second piece, Goat, set to the music of Nina Simone, is a reinterpretation of Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring. Set in a church hall and observed by a crass news reporter with her camera operator, a group of people are enacting a ritual of sacrifice, only carried out at times of great crisis. The joke is that this used to involve a goat, until animal rights activists protested, so now the sacrifice must be human.

A blindfolded dancer chooses one of the group, Jonathan Wade, who is partially stripped and must dance himself to death. Meanwhile, his lover laments the unfairness of the choice. The ensemble dance around him until he starts his visceral and affecting solo dance, leading to his collapse. His death is verified by the reporter, and his lover dances alone with the initially lifeless Wade who gradually revives and takes part in a deeply moving lovers’ pas de deux. He then collapses again but we are not sure whether he is or isn’t dead. Duke is playing with the conventions of theatre versus reality.

The dance is effectively underpinned by Simone’s raw, gutsy singing style, evoked here by a track as the billed singer, Sheree DuBois was indisposed. Ratnam moves from the role of singer in the first pies to demonstrate her skill on the piano, with Campbell again on drums and Wickham now on bass. The musicianship throughout shows great skill and feeling.

The intrusions of the reporter and the filming of sections of the piece, instantly relayed to an onstage TV, presumably are to make a point about the insensitivity and ignorance displayed by the media in observing society. This may not have been as effective as other elements of the narrative but that is a subjective view. This piece is touching and effective but it seems likely that Cerberus is likely to live longer in the memory.

All in all, however, this makes for an inspired, involving and truly emotional meditation on mortality, in a showcase of virtuoso dancing.

Runs until 25 April 2024