Director and Choreographer: Yukiko Masuri
Music: Ruth Chan
Supporting Writing: Si Rawlinson
A woman sits in the rain in a projected bamboo forest, a katana at her side. She is a Ronin, a freelance mercenary, under the direction of no government or master, only herself. As the audience follow her journey, they see her fight (literally) against a male dominated world, in an anime inspired dance piece about forging your own path.
Or that’s the vision from creator Yukiki Masuri anyway. What is lovely about RONiN is that the audience can read many different variations on that story. Three characters take the stage, our titular Ronin (Cher Nicolette Ho), a villain (Jacob Lang), and a spiritualist (Nathan Bartman). Through a mixture of contemporary dance, sword fighting with katanas, and interaction with a fully projected backdrop, all set to a blistering techno and hip hop inspired soundtrack, the audience can really make their own decisions about the story being told.
RONiN is a beautiful show. Mio Jue’s costumes, a woman in white and two men in black, immediately prompt the audience on how to read the characters. The performers personalities shine through the choreography. Ho is a strong lead, her mastery of body isolation particularly impressive. Lang has a powerful presence and aura of menace. Bartman shows such joy in his movement that it is impossible not to smile. The three work together with a flow between them that is mesmerising. The fight choreography is slick and controlled, although it would have been improved with a little more focus sometimes on making it look like the hits actually land. A completely silent scene of Ho fighting the air allows more of the true grit of sword fighting to be foregrounded however, the sword slicing the air and the breathing and sounds of the performer more evident and evocative.
The immersion of the performers within the almost video game feeling projected backgrounds (created by Barret Hodgson) really helps to sell the world, especially during Act One. The projections aren’t just scenic dressing, they shift and change with the actors, making the stage feel at times larger and at other times more tightly claustrophobic than it truly is. This is especially effective in a scene with a large metallic looking grid, which risks giving the audience vertigo as the whole theatre appears to move with it. The projection is also the only source of lighting for the show, which is astonishing, a really adds to the movement with the creation of shadows and highlighting the performers bodies. Sadly, the projection is used to lesser effect in Act Two. The second half as a whole is slightly less engaging, as the pace and wonder from Act One drops slightly. It is still beautiful, both the movement and the projections, but the conflict of Act One resolves quickly and the harmony replacing it feels like it belongs to a different show. Both Acts are short, just half an hour long, so perhaps if the show were able to run as a single hour-long piece this would be mitigated.
This performance was followed by a short Q&A with the creator. Masuri speaks lovingly of nostalgic anime influences, and a desire to experiment with combining two historically linked but rarely melded art forms in dance and swordplay. The show is clearly a passion project, and her enthusiasm for it is infectious. Certainly one to see for both anime fans and newcomers alike, and a wonderful introduction to both dance and swordplay.
Reviewed on 15 April 2026
