Rhiannon Faith: dancingtheatre Love Kills
Mamoru Iriguchi Projector/Conjector
Big Albert's Gang Jessica Williams THR3E
The evening's first two performances centred on relationships; the good, bad, and the very odd.
Rhiannon Faith: dancingtheatre's Love kills introduced the harsh realities of relationships experienced by women everyday; ‘he doesn't love me', ‘he's sleeping with his secretary', and, the old chestnut, ‘it's not you, it's me!' The live band rocked out classics by the likes of Skunk Anansie, the songs reflecting the turmoil expressed in the dancers. I was rocketed between emotions, genuinely feeling and relating to the experiences of the characters, especially during the comforting moments of contact. A particular standout was the bad attitude rude girl, trying to mask her pain with confrontation, flinging her body into space. All they wanted was love.
Firstly, being confronted by a man wearing a TV on his head, and a woman wearing a projector on hers is puzzling. Yet, the comedy in this piece was a guilty pleasure. Mamoru Iriguchi's Projector/Conjector took me on a journey through the weird and wonderful Planet Swan Lake. The blossoming love between these two strange beings, who swapped sexes with a dress and an all-in-one, was told through clever on-screen text and the classic storyline of Swan Lake. Love, pregnancy, betrayal and murder rippled through this comedy sketch style piece. There were some space invaders and a space ship thrown in, along with some Star Wars inspired text projection. Random, yet surprisingly enjoyable!
Big Albert's Gang ended with a cleverly constructed piece. Props created scenarios in THR3E, framing it in clutter. The restriction caused by the clothing rails resulted in a precise gestural phrase, which developed as the dancers collided, folding into contact. The strong percussive beats along with subtle lighting states emphasised the gang's free flowing style, complementing them as they snapped into impulses. It seemed as if life was being interrupted by the clutter they had created for themselves. The throwing open of the clothes promised more; however it ended, leaving me wanting so much more.
Rhian Lewis
Rhiannon Faith's Love Kills is basically Skins, on stage. Backed by a live band, eight posing and posturing girls take us on an enjoyable ride through the highs, lows and histrionics of teen love, through simplistic (though not ineffective) choreography, mostly performed in unison to resemble a chorus line of teenage angst. The movement is interspersed with character monologues that are sassy, forthright, sex-obsessed and performed with confidence and conviction by the young cast, who, as in Skins, seemed to be the right age for the subject matter. There were hints at the vulnerability beneath the bluster but Love Kills could have done with more layers. Then again, teen emotions aren't that subtle, are they?
Mamoru Iriguchi's Projector/Conjector is a love story too, but not like any other. For a start, Iriguchi is wearing a TV screen on his head, and partner Selina Papoutseli has a projector strapped to hers. Through images and words they reveal/project via their respective headgear, a bonkers story emerges involving a rocket trip to a planet of swans, a romance, a conception and a doomed cygnet love child. It's a kind of sci-fi Swan Lake tragi-comedy, and as well as being absurdly hilarious, it's also very sweet. One of the most imaginative things you'll see this season, which only raises the question: how do you follow that?
The final act, Big Albert's Gang, don't have the answer unfortunately and their THR3E limps along to close the show. Three performers each have a rail of clothes that acts as wardrobe, set and prop and with each costume change comes a slight switch of style. Ultimately the conceit and choreography are limited and we could have done with more finish, finesse and dynamics in the dancing. This is a work that seems to think it's deeper than it is. Or perhaps it just isn't expressing itself very well. In stark contrast to tonight's opener, there is such a thing as being too subtle.
Lyndsey Winship