Shows in non-traditional venues are adventures; a bit like a school-trip, a chance to get out of the normal setting, and also a small chance of being overlooked by the general theatre-going public.

I waited at the side entrance of the Tararua Tramping Club on one of Mount Vic’s back streets with a handful of other audience members.  They all seemed to personally know choreographer Ann Dewey, who greeted us as the doors opened.

A bit afraid that there would be a severe lack of bums-on-seats, I was glad the seating arrangement was limited and the dozen or so audience members made a respectable half-full house.  It was intimate and cosy and there was a sense of privilege to be a member if this small “club”.

The work opened with a solo performed by Liz Kirk and a backdrop of a forest scene (courtesy of a kitsch blanket on a moving panel).  Kirk embodied the nuance of the fauns printed on the blanket, both graceful and awkward, and set the scene for the rest of the show.

The hour-long work unfolded in much the same way, with three or four other panels gliding, revealing, and hiding the three dancers.  In a way, it reminded me to a low-budget, slowed down pong game.  In fact, if Nijinsky’s ‘Afternoon of a Faun’ had be turned into a video game it would look a bit like ‘Lazy Suzy Boy’.

Dancers Julie Van Renen, Liz Kirk, and Liana Yew were of obvious professional quality even if the production and venue qualities were not.  But that was half the fun of this quirky work; the juxtaposition of succinct, professional movement and kitsch, low budget props  made for some great surprising moments.  One of which delighted me like a small child watching a magic trick; when all three dancers were revealed behind the moving screens, but one panel continued to move of its own accord.  It was later revealed that there was a fourth performer, guest Paul Konings.  Koning’s untrained movement style was a wonderful addition to the trained dancer’s.  His loping form and grizzled face were as interesting to watch as the dancer’s wide eyed grace.  He evoked a kind of Tom Waits creepiness without being off-putting… just interesting.

I unashamedly admit that I have little idea what “Lazy Suzy Boy” was about.  (There were hints of human-over-nature and man-over-woman themes, but nothing so confronting that a major theme dominated.)  Nor do I think it matters.  It was enough to enjoy the subdued atmosphere and quirkiness of this small production.

Go for the imaginative gnarled-yet-refined choreography, Liana Yew’s intense stare and stage presence, and Paul Konings’ wonderfully un-cool movement, and enjoy an hour of unpretentious contemporary dance theatre.

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Dear Ann and Spinning Sun (an open letter to the community)

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer

I would be prepared to travel a long way to see the enigmatic Marianne Schultz perform.  Turns out I only had to pop down to the local hall last night where she featured as guest artist in Ann Dewey’s newest work for Spinning Sun: Lazy Suzy Boy.

In an outstanding community dance initiative, Spinning Sun is at the tail end of a tour of North Auckland townships where the company has worked with young dancers in each centre giving them the opportunity to be the curtain-raiser for the main performance.  In Helensville, the delight on the young dancers’ faces is a joy to see, as they confidently perform their dance and then become highly appreciative front-row audience for the rest of the show.

Lazy Suzy Boy is self-described as “a bit of nonsense” so it doesn’t pay to search for deep meanings.  Instead it suffices to sit back and enjoy some lovely dance by Liz Kirk, Liana Yew and Julie van Renen and of course Marianne.  The music by James Hayday creates a cool ambience – which is then playfully subverted with some light-hearted jokey sequences. 

Ann Dewey sets the scene as one of illusion with mobile screens and trolleys enabling bodies to magically appear and disappear.  Covered in particularly kitsch animal scenes two of the screens appear also to influence the choice of movement material – such as the homage to Nijinski’s L’Après-Midi d’un Faune.  Ann re-creates the lovely languorous movement quality, sideways hands and averted eyes of Nijinski’s demure nymphs, and then breaks the spell with Liana’s energetic solo of defiance.

The work progresses into an exploration of bear-like movement that sees the dancers incorporate the upper body in rolling movements and gesticulate with claw-like hands.  A mystery guest entrapped behind a screen makes a tentative appearance but is quickly upstaged by Marianne in fine and stroppy form.  The highlight of the evening is watching her sail across the stage in a magnificent Boadicea-like posture on a red-satin plinth and then re-appearing to weep uncontrollably accompanied by a tinkling cow-bell.

The movement vocabulary becomes the consistent element in an evening of unusual happenings.  The dancers return again and again to an undulating swooping and lunging vocabulary that intertwines legs and arms and angles the body épaulement-like to the audience.  The style is pleasing and smooth, performed either solo, in duet or in trios.  The three dancers invest their own individual personae subtly into their performance.

Liz Kirk is manipulated, puppet-like, in a poignant solo that hints at brutal wild-animal captivity,and then the action speeds up with Julie van Renen clattering across the stage in high-heeled red-shoes and various mad-cap outbursts culminating in revelations by the mystery guest. 

Although there is only one more appearance in the current season there are more performances planned for the future.  Look out for it.

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