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FESTIVAL DANCE | Reviews

MARIA ADDOLORATA Finding beauty and humour in pain ●●●●●

It seems shocking when laid bare on paper, but on the stage it’s been true for millennia: pain can be funny. Hilarious. Some of the time. It’s that last statement that marks the difference between Chiara Taviani and Carlo Massari’s sparky, clever and often bonkers dance show, and the simpler realms of comic clowning. To describe their opening trick would be to give away one of

the best bits, but it does neatly summarise the nature of the performance, enticing us to giggle before whipping that comfort swiftly away. What follows is filled with suffering gestures, icons, images but the piece shifts tempo so subtly and surreally that it is sometimes impossible to trust your instincts on what the correct response is. Massari leaving Taviani whimpering in an uncomfortable pose while he cracks open a beer draws laughs; throwing himself repeatedly at the floor feels banana-skin slapstick the first few times but quickly echoes the trauma of a caged animal. The suppleness and quickness of the choreography keeps the

dance moving at pitch-perfect pace, snapping one idea away before it dries up and flashing on to another and for all their slapping and hurling Massari and Taviani trust each other like a third limb. But Maria Addolorata isn’t just about the whipcrack firing of ideas. Based on Catholic iconography, some passages ripple with gorgeous sensuality. As the pair stretch slow-mo into a pieta, the tension in their bodies hints at pain’s erotic qualities. The religious imagery hits its feverish climax in a startling final scene. When Taviani bends to take a bloodstained kiss from the fallen Massari, the first time she lifts her head it looks as if she is wearing glamorous lipstick; the second time, as if she has been feasting on prey. (Lucy Ribchester) Summerhall, 560 1581, until 24 Aug, 6.40pm, £10 (£8).

CIRCUS INCOGNITUS Old-school street-to-stage clowning works a treat ●●●●● BACK OF THE BUS All aboard for a fun-filled journey of dance ●●●●●

KURAKURAW DANCE GLASS BEAD Elegant Taiwanese dance and music performance blends East and West ●●●●●

Jamie Adkins’s mastery as an all-round entertainer is predicated not only on a prodigious set of skills juggling, clowning, the slack wire and so on but also on how relaxed he is when employing them. There’s a lot to like here no matter what your age. This fairly young man with the skew-whiff hair is an inspired yet easy-going goof, and it feels good to be in his company. He starts the show in darkness, playing with the light from the torch in his hands. His subsequent bumbling, empathy-inducing encounters with a chair and a large cardboard box are deceptive. Adkins knows his props.

He can, for instance, do a lot with balls; whether of the ping-pong variety or the softer kind that he stuffs into his cheeks. He also invites some deftly controlled audience participation involving a select few lobbing fruit in his direction.

The show hasn’t much metaphorical resonance or weight, but then it’s not meant to be high-concept circus. Rather, it’s the unapologetically populist and thoroughly rewarding work of a throwback vaudevillian in control of his talent to amuse. (Donald Hutera) New Town Theatre, 220 0143, until 24 Aug (not 18), 4pm, £12–£14 (£10–£12).

62 THE LIST FESTIVAL 14–25 Aug 2014

Faintly silly, laden with joy and enormously fun, this quirky show from New Zealand’s Java Dance takes place on board a reclaimed Routemaster. These three wobble-proof ladies need no theatre, instead commandeering for their stage nothing more than the top deck aisle of a bus along with a helping hand from some stop-off locations along the way.

A woman dashes to board, struggling with shopping, exploding bags of tortilla chips over the aisle and stumbling into people’s laps; another loses her phone in acrobatic panic, nimbly perching on the seat-back rails as she searches; a third coquettishly flirts her way round the other passengers, taking selfies with them and pouting.

When the bus stops we won’t spoil your fun by telling you where even passers-by are corralled into joining in. The choreography isn’t mind-blowing (and we're still picking nacho-flavoured Dorito crumbs out of the crevices of my backpack) but for originality, performers who genuinely want to engage their crowd, and sheer pleasure, this show is just the (bus) ticket. (Lucy Ribchester) Assembly George Square, 623 3030, until 21 Aug (not 16), times vary, £10.50–£11.50 (£9.50– £10.50).

This is the most refined of the four dance productions in the Taiwan season split between Dance Base and Summerhall. It’s the work of Tjimur, described as Taiwan’s ‘first and best-known contemporary indigenous dance theatre’. The key elements are a singing storyteller (dressed

in traditional garb), a cellist and a female singer (both fine if sparingly used), and two sleek, strong dancers enacting an elaborate, rather melancholic folk tale about a peacock who falls for a beautiful village girl. Luckily, the performance is so dreamily handsome that you don't need to worry unduly about following the narrative, any more than you need to be steeped in the cultural traditions referenced here in order to enjoy the experience. The choreography features swinging arms and pitter-patter hops for the woman, and a sturdier, swirling mode of expression on the part of the bird-man. The tone is one of elegant romance and lamentation, an impression underlined by a diagonally placed river of red fabric upon which half a dozen shallow wicker baskets ‘float’. (Donald Hutera) Dance Base, 225 5525, until 24 Aug (not 18), 6.30pm, £10 (£8).