Lula Washington, a 75-year-old American dancer and choreographer (we sang a cool version of ‘Happy Birthday’ to her on stage after the show!), and her Lula Washington Dance Theatre (LWDT), based in Los Angeles in a troubled USA, have finally made their way to Aotearoa for the first time, guests of Te Ahurei Toi o Tāmaki Auckland Arts Festival. Washington is renowned for her dance theatre works that focus on African American cultural and social issues.

The theatre’s programme scanner was broken, and hence my words may be a little bit broken too. The evening’s presentation included five distinct works, but they will remain nameless as such here because the festival presents choreographies in their brochure in the following format: Join us for Resistance, Resilience, Triumph 2025 Reflections in Dance Black History. The program includes classic works by Black dance legends like Donald McKayle, Talley Beatty, Donald Byrd, and Rennie Harris, as well as pieces by Tamica Washington-Miller.

Accompanied by the Jay Dover Jazz Trio: Jon’Ta on Saxophone, Che Tariff on Piano, and Kalum Harriso on Drums, the five works are a medley of narratives. The music in the first two works, particularly the drumming, is powerful and engaging, but some of the later musical selections feel out of place even within this context. Similarly, while the spoken words carry intention, they feel forced or overly simplistic, which impacts how the dances are perceived and dancing able to be interpreted.

Washington’s choreography leans into dance as activism. In the first piece, the use of dated news clippings and graphic images of hung men with their backs turned towards us help convey the deeply unjust and painful experiences proliferating in old and new histories of African Americans. However, I found myself disturbed by the depiction of these dead bodies (tinana o te mate) in a theatrical space in New Zealand with no warning. With no observable respect for their wairua, this particular image becomes unsettling. Its confrontational positioning in the work is strangely at odds with the otherwise spirited, mostly front facing dancers.

While I cannot identify the specific works presented, the evening begins with words from a video of a grandfather figure who spoke of his “reservoir of stories.” This concept, along with the idea of watery connection or provision, could have been a guiding theme for the whole presentation, allowing the dancers the freedom to explore the upshot potential of emotional depth. Unfortunately, the performance was disrupted by excessive intervals and bright lighting, often overly exposing the composition. I looked for links between stories and cannot find them. Other than briefly at the end, and regrettably as they are arguably embodiments of such history, the dancers’ names were not mentioned either.

These eight dancers displayed varying types of technical skill and performance nuance. The juxtaposition of beautiful, authentic tribal gestures with high-leg arabesques and pirouettes sometimes felt jarring, as if the vocabulary of dance itself was conflicting with its own purpose. Yet, the undulating arms and torsos keep my focus, as they are a refrain of the distraught challenges of racial inequity and violence. Variable choices in artistic direction and programming are reflected in the costumes, which often come across as tawdry or overly sparkly. A moment of anguish in the choreography dissipates far too quickly, fading into an energetic lambada-style sequence.

Of the five pieces, the last one stands out as a return to the core themes of identity, history, community, and social justice. An extended sequence of male and female quartets and duos feels confident and vibrant, with an exuberance danced through hypnotic music that brings a sense of provocation and empowerment that, oddly, the rest of the evening seems to have missed.

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