EXPRESSING AND QUESTIONING OUR SOCIETY AND GENERATION

2010 Made in New Zealand Footnote Dance at SKYCITY Theatre, Auckland 17 May 2010 Reviewed by Jack Gray, 19 May 2010

The work has a bit more content to be considered a ‘short’ work, yet feels perhaps it could become a full-length piece. It is great for Auckland supporters to see this glimpse of Johnston’s offering to New Zealand Day at the World Expo 2010, Shanghai in July.

I Changed (Sarah Foster) has three women [Anita Hunziker, Sarah Knox, Lucy Marinkovich] with T-shirts over their heads. Fun ponytails and quick little walks, smiling, giggling and shifting, they are joined by two men [Jeremy Poi, Francis Christeller] who challenge them to duels of playground banter, sexist mockery (“You dick”/ “Weiner”/ “Hey Fishlips”/ “Smelly-bum”). This is emphasised by episodes of lightning fast movement, lifting, jumping and spinning in displays of overt and subliminal sexual bravado.

The music changes and ‘the other guy’ (Robbie Curtis) walks on and attempts to touch Christeller's privates while the girls pick wedgies out of their backsides. Knox plays with perfect technique and contrasts this with fun trashiness to create a playful atmosphere. The guys do a repetitive alternating sequence of lying on top of each other intimately then throwing the other off, as Poi and Hunziker reappear (in op shop jerseys and socks) to mooch in the background as if dancing lackadaisically in a private lounge.

There is a beautiful solo by Sarah Knox that is all legs, arms and cute little gestures that show her ‘marking’ ballet movements (hands beating her wrist to imitate the feet). We see Foster’s penchant for exaggerating the beautiful into extremities of deformity or ugliness that makes for an interesting choreographic comment about femininity and expectations.

Angry screamers jump in singlets and shorts, in a sequence of fighting, grunts and wrestling holds and throws. This unique vocabulary shifts around the space in different formations. The performers are machines, well trained and committed to their dancing, their bodies strong as they attack the space again and again.

There is so much movement in this piece with the vocabulary constantly changing and creatively explorative.

Seeing all the girls in their bras and undies, I realise the choreographers are mostly women in this programme (with the exception of Ross McCormack). It makes me ponder what this thread of female angst might be about and how it could be reflective of the state of the NZ women’s psyche (if ‘Made in New Zealand’ could be considered a portrayal of some type of deeper national subconscious).

Stealth (Ross McCormack) is a solo with Jeremy Poi that starts with him pushing a canvas across the stage. With downbeat electronica by Jody Lloyd, it makes me think this piece would be better suited to an ‘underground’ club or gallery where the audience could feel less restrained and more interactive. Smudging blue paint on the wall and making outlines of his arms (we notice someone else manipulates the canvas) as his hypnotic hands spin and blur.

Themes of isolation and sparks of creativity are seen in postures of hunching, protection, retreating and challenge. Whether a statement of intent, perhaps this work reflects the faraway-ness of the choreographer living, working and surviving in Europe and maybe the burdens of being a New Zealand artist.

The work also showcases the dancer’s journey: as Poi demonstrates his intense commitment and dominating physicality we see insights of his performative growth and maturing development as an artist over the past few years of national touring (with Footnote and other productions).

Poi is cast as an angry, intense man at times throughout the show; he pulls his pants down and screams, which seem to be a recurring theme – echoed also in Foster’s and O’Neil’s work. This stripping down, exposing, taking control of vulnerability, starts to form threads that tug away at the thought of what makes our society and generation tick, questioning where we are at individually, collectively and nationally. 

Mytland (Claire O’Neil)

Preppy guy (Jeremy Poi) comes in falling and twirling; Geek Guy (Francis Christeller) enters with glasses and corduroy pants, followed by Sporty Chick (Anita Hunziker) in tracksuit and cargo pants. Next come Arty Girl (Lucy Marinkovich) with her black vest and open gaze and Sleepy Guy (Jesse Wikiriwhi) in his green pyjamas as if he has just woken up.

“I’m the real one,” says Wikiriwhi, before he jumps, backbends and turns. Desperate Housewife (Knox) falls across the stage as if she is on a slope. Marinkovich tells her story while Wikiriwhi talks over her. “I’m the most beautiful person in the world,” announces the Geek to the back cyc. They echo Wikiriwhi’s solo, falling and rocking under blue lights to the sound of slow screeches.

The group against the individual narrative is again used as a device, similar to Foster’s work. Thunder, throat singing and clashy sounds make them move like they are doing a contemporary Krump. Knox’s verbal diatribe is made up of commonly heard sayings and proverbs: “When the shit hits the fan, bite the bullet and wing it.”

Strange toings and froings. Wikiriwhi states, “No choir, or church or philosophy” – while behind him Hunziker moans, grunts, sobs and flops. She continues her little internal temper tantrum /tirade struggling like a grumpy little girl. Everyone comes onstage to soothe her, till she realises this and starts to play on the tribe’s good intentions.

The next section makes the viewer wonder how the dancers, as fit and agile and adaptable as they are, are able to cope with the demands of such an energetically hard-core programme.

“Seasons come and go,” they each sing, speak, screech out of tune. Christeller lets loose and tells every one of all the devices of mass destruction he has on him and for everyone to “get back”. His desperation, hostility and vulnerability show the mixed messages inherent within the work and the juxtaposition of self to community, to country, allegiance and coping mechanisms.

“That’s fantastic honey,” says Marinkovich absentmindedly to the Geek, as they stand eating chocolates by a backstage microphone. Poi decides he has had enough of the others onstage and tries to remove them one by one. When he turns on the audience and swears at them, he internalises his rage and climbs atop a ladder to wait it out.

The final dance shows a recapitulation of various moments of the piece, with dancers exchanging roles and ideas in an assemblage of ideas that continue to hack away at the core of the work.

The evenings programme seems to almost wash into one piece (with the exception of Johnston’s). My final questions leave me to ponder: Were the choreographers influenced by the same themes, concepts or concerns? Do their viewpoints portray a New Zealand society and generation in turmoil? Is there a distinct Euro dance-theatre sensibility present and what is it representative of? Do the dancers’ interpretations draw this essence of rawness, troubled internal /external realities into a distilled whole themselves?

[Reviews of the NZ International Arts Festival season of MTYLAND may be found here.] 
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