Festival Dance
Telephone Booking Fringe 0131 226 0000 International Festival 0131 473 2000 Book Festival 0845 373 5888 Art Festival 07500 461 332 ONE UP ONE DOWN Single consumerist satire, GSOH, seeks breathing space ●●●●●
Natasha Gilmore’s latest work continues her crusade to create accessible, comic-tinged dance- theatre that engages with contemporary issues. This is a satire on the pressures of consumer culture on women, with three impossibly lovely, pink-clad dancers bullied and manipulated into models of femininity by an unctuous salesman and each other.
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together kitsch costumes, a poor soundtrack but a spectacular light show to achieve a mediocre and unengaging show of precision and skill.
The early sequences are promising. Two explorers descend from the ceiling, encounter denizens of the dark and clamber over a mobile set. Just when it appears that the lost connection between contemporary dance and rock climbing has been found, the choreography slips into a series of routines that hesitate between the impressive and the trite. An argument between men and women is played out in the simplest terms, the subterraneans imitate the explorers and the Aztec costumes render the more gentle movements silly.
There is plenty of ability in this company: every move is delivered with precision and grace. But with a soundtrack that unhappily matches ‘ethnic’ samples and smooth techno beats and choreography that feels far too literal, Love Machines fails to develop any deep purpose. (Gareth Vile) ■ Assembly Rooms, 623 3030, until 31 Aug, 5.05pm, £13–£16 (£12–£14).
UP AND OVER IT! Irish dance finds a new direction ●●●●●
Just as shows such as Riverdance sought to release Irish dancing from the steely grip of the competitive circuit, this entertaining hour seeks to liberate the form yet further. BOH Moving dance exploration of women’s roles ●●●●●
For the most part, it makes some Dancers Suzanne Cleary and Peter Harding have toured the world, won
sharp hits. The choreography is stunning, the women torn between feral rampage and the grotesque tottering of puppeteered Barbie dolls, over-exerting themselves into a most unladylike sweat beneath their rose petal frocks. However, there’s no getting away
from the fact that the (excellent) dancers lack the acting training that could really illuminate a piece as text- heavy as this. Their often stilted delivery contrasts sharply with the ease with which professional actor, John Macaulay wraps his mouth around the sly salesman’s patter. The writing varies wildly in quality too, with too many lines falling flat.
The dancers are enormously
eloquent performers when wordless, and unafraid to take risks with their body work: trimming back the wordiness of this piece would allow their potent physical satire much- needed breathing space. (Kirstin Innes) ■ The Zoo, 662 6892, until 31 Aug, 12.25pm, £8 (£6).
BRAZILIAN FEVER Hot Latin moves fail to ignite a proper fire ●●●●●
You can’t help but feel cheated by this show. Promising to be a ‘Brazilian cabaret variety show fusing samba, funk, afro and jazz dance routines with theatrical and seductive compositions’, it’s more of a sparse
every championship imaginable and spent their entire lives to date wrapped up in Irish dance. So when they appear on stage with their mouths gagged and arms bound by a straight jacket, you get the feeling they’ve got something to say about it. Ripping off the green velvet skirt and smart black trousers, Cleary and Harding launch into something altogether new. Proving Bill Whelan isn’t the only one who can provide a background to Irish dance, they work their way through hard and soft shoe (or in this case, no shoe) routines to everything from electro pop to Lady Gaga and gentle piano.
Both Cleary and Harding are phenomenal dancers, and masters of rhythm – as demonstrated by a witty domestic argument, where each retort is made by hand-slapping a tune onto a wooden table, rather than speaking. The video footage which laces the show together works with varying degrees of success, and this four star rating is in spite of, rather than because of it. (Kelly Apter) ■ C Chambers Street, 0845 260 1234, until 31 Aug, 5.50pm, £9.50–£11.50 (£6.50–£10.50).
KATAKLO ATHLETIC DANCE THEATRE’S LOVE MACHINES Athletic dance without depth ●●●●● Love Machines provides evidence that a good concept and strong technique is not enough. Based on the works of Leonardo da Vinci, and apparently set in an underground cave inhabited by strange creatures, Kataklo throw
two-woman routine taking place in an old, forgotten dive in a tired corner of Rio (should such a place exist). Billed as being an hour long, it actually only lasts 45 minutes, the last ten of which are filled by audience members who are asked to rumba and shake their stuff on stage. Admittedly, the antics of a few of the men who ended up in the spotlight were hilarious, but even they couldn’t make up for the lack of overall wow factor.
Seating is on plastic stools at cheap tables, around which the two dancers venture bravely at times. They’re obviously talented – miming with keen expression and dancing well – and admirers of elegant bum-shaking will find much to enjoy. But even against the sounds of lovely big samba beats and cool Latin grooves, there isn’t enough here to make a compelling show, especially not in the face of spectacular Brazilian acts such as the Capoeira Knights. (Susan Wright) ■ C Central, 0845 260 1234, until 31 Aug, 9.20pm, £8.50–£10.50.
84 THE LIST FESTIVAL MAGAZINE 27 Aug–10 Sep 2009
This solo performance piece created by the Sanpapié theatre-dance company opens with a woman sitting in a kitchen-like space munching on popcorn, a faraway look in her eyes. From time to time, props and bits of costume are fired out of a wardrobe at the back of the set. Tying an apron around her waist the performer becomes a housewife and embarks on a routine that incorporates wagging fingers and miming stirring cake mix. Donning an outsized leather jacket, her movements become louche, full of attitude. Her discovery of a man’s suit jacket leads to a lovely extended slow dance, the performer’s face buried in the cloth.
The attention to detail in the movement here is impressive: at one point the performer peels off a white T- shirt to reveal an identical, though slightly smaller one underneath, which in turn is removed to reveal another, even smaller T-shirt. The gradual removal of all five garments with slow, painstaking progressions becomes almost mesmerising. While the exploration of women’s roles – domestic, lover, mother – seems fairly obvious, the piece is beautifully performed and shot through with a sense of loneliness and loss that makes it, at times, incredibly moving. (Allan Radcliffe) ■ C Chambers Street, 260 1234, until 31 Aug, 4.40pm, £9.50–£11.50 (£8.50–£10.50).