Kamala Devam FretLess
Acephalous Stroll
Fine & Dandy Dance Passion4Fashion
It's an arresting image which opens Kamala Devam's FretLess: standing in the dark, singing a mournful ballad, she throws a life-guard's rubber ring repeatedly into the centre of the space, only to retrieve it again tirelessly. She starts as she means to go on and the strength of her solo is in its striking visual landscape. Within this her physical language, a mixture of classical Indian and a more athletic release is intriguing, contained within the confines of the rubber ring. Midway her dancing becomes just too crazed and loses its subtlety, but she regains it in the final scene. The life-saving ring is thrown out once again, but this time remains detached from her, a poignant, floating memory of a deceased friend.
It's hard to know whether Stafania Mylona's collection of grotesque metaphors refers to the athletic antics of ancient civilizations or to a soft-porn floor show. Five women in revealing swimsuits hump and grind over each other's bodies creating a variety of remarkable sculptures; the most priceless one being a huge quivering bum sandwich, formed as they sit astride one another in three tiers facing inwards, buttocks wedged together and unashamedly in our faces. Mouth to fanny floor tumbling gives way to precariously balanced human pyramids. Joking aside, and the audience was in stitches, Stroll should be applauded for its audacity, circus-skills and inventiveness.
Upbeat, humorous and gorgeously dressed, the dancers and models posed, shimmied and jetéd their way through Passion4Fashion, a droll commentary on the fashion world, unwittingly apt to coincide with the sudden death of Alexander McQueen. Dandy Diwangkara's offering was charming in its presentation and superficial in its content. I didn't learn anything new, the usual bitchy behaviour between models, the clichéd behaviour of gay male designers, cat-walk inspired choreography, but the performers knew how to entertain, projecting energy and charisma. And the costume budget? To die for.
Josephine Leask
All three companies on this penultimate Thursday of the festival were making their return to the Resolution! stage, which made for an engaging evening of strong themes and accomplished choreography.
FretLess poses questions inherent in solitude and lifebuoys: should I throw a lifeline to others, move instinctively when the tides of life shift, or surrender and allow the biggest wave to swallow me whole? Devam's taut, arching body seems to move independently of her own will, propelled only by a musical current. Awkward shapes are formed, interspersed with swelling fluid phrases. Trembling hands, echoing the trickling percussion, are a recurring motif as she uses a life-saving red and white ring to stand on, wiggle through and eventually discard, choosing to go it alone.
Five women seemed less keen on personal space, in Stroll. An ironic title for a piece where the performers explore the most unlikely and awkward ways to move around the stage together: sitting on shoulders, leading each other by the mouth and surfing on backs, in nonchalant absurdity. The piece is a cleverly constructed journey that took the audience from nervous stifled giggles, through tensely-held suspense to involuntary hoots of laughter. Highlights include a muffled voice struggling to be heard whilst her face is stuck in another's crutch and a tower of whistling buttocks. Mylona's innovative work is a fresh and strangely profound study in group dynamics.
When Madonna sang "strike a pose, there's nothing to it", she may have been describing the shallow, yet highly-stylised possy in Passion4Fashion, who presented a much less intimately connected bunch. A silhouetted cast, in monochrome pretentious designer gear and high shine shades strut the stage as though a catwalk. There are a few predictable episodes including models posing for a photographer and then coveting each other's handbags, and a camp, high-energy, hard-house scene to end, but this is a classic exercise in style over substance that failed to scratch the surface of such a vacuous world.
Sam Gauntlett