Celebrating forty years of performance in 2025, Footnote New Zealand Dance’s return to Christchurch with its latest production is particularly welcome.  By any standards, for an arts organisation to have reached such a milestone is a considerable feat; for a contemporary dance company working in the challenging New Zealand arts environment this is a remarkable achievement.

Modern God, choreographed and directed by Jeremy Beck and developed over a two-year period, is a substantial, full length work and a suitable offering to mark such an auspicious occasion. Beck’s lengthy programme note explains the underlying theme of the work, going so far as to question whether dance is even a suitable medium to explore the role of media influencers on contemporary society.  In spite of these concerns, Beck, in collaboration with the wider creative team and aided by brilliant contributions from Footnote’s dancers, has triumphantly overcome the challenge he set himself.  Modern God is a fascinating, witty and at times challenging exploration of a pervasive dimension of modern life that deserves to be subjected to critical examination.

For Footnote’s company dancers, Airu Matsuda, Cecilia Wilcox, Levi Siaosi and Veronica Chengen Lyu, along with guest artists Joshua Faleatua and Tyler Carney, the challenge was how to impersonate media influencers in a way that was both convincing enough to be believable while retaining sufficient critical distance to make it clear that what we were seeing was not the real thing.  Ranging across a wide spectrum of topics and genres, from plane spotting to perfumes and from interior décor to wellbeing, they managed to strike a fine balance between the level of exaggeration needed to ensure that we recognised the satire while conveying the ultimate banality of so much influencer content. 

They were aided by sophisticated technical input from Hana Miller and Jacob Perkins of RDYSTDY – AV Creative Production Studio.  The seamless integration of live and pre-recorded smart-phone video, projected onto a large, portrait-format screen above the performance space, amplified the performers’ messages to their ‘followers’, we, the audience.  This also set up a tension for the audience that mirrored the conflict that was part of the production’s theme, the divide that exists between the reality of the online world and the real world beyond.  Should we, as the audience, be watching the performance projected on the screen or the one that was happening ‘live’.  In fact, the power of the projected image was such that it required a decisive effort to focus on the dancers rather than allowing one’s eyes to drift towards the screen.  

The divide between the on and off-screen worlds was highlighted throughout the performance.  A romantic duet performed by Carney and Faleatua was filmed by Carney with her phone held at arms-length, resulting in her swooning smile simultaneously beaming down from the screen. Even such intimate human interactions can seemingly become screen fodder to attract and hold an on-line audience.  Conflict, whether the physical action of simulated fight sequences, or the psychological stress induced by followers’ comments, inevitably accumulates ‘likes’, which are, in turn, monetised.  The capitalist underpinnings of the online world in which influencers’ frenetic efforts to increase their visibility, and hence their marketing value, is highlighted in a lyrical sequence in which $100 bills are scattered across the stage like confetti. This is not, however, the promised world of endless riches for it is by now clear that the influencer is as much a victim of the modern market economy as any factory-bound wage slave.

The final dance sequence begins with a solo then gradually builds to a pulsating ensemble   of coordinated movement.  There are no phones involved in this part of the performance so are we witnessing a release from the constraints and limitations of the online world? Or are we, instead, watching the process by which the actions of the first performer are copied and adopted by an ever-growing cohort of imitators, just as the influencer seeks to gather more and more followers?  Significantly, the individuality that characterised the appearance of the dancers at the start of the show has disappeared and they are now dressed alike in red patterned jump suits. The answer perhaps lies in the projected video that accompanies this closing section which shows frenetic shoppers jostling one another while fighting for consumer goods.  Consumerism, not religion, has indeed become the opiate of the masses.

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From the Hamilton Arts Festival blurb: 

Stunts will be attempted. Records broken. Memes made. Content consumed. Advertising sold. Lives ruined. Heroes formed.

This high-powered show, straddling the realms of contemporary dance and physical theatre, delves into the intricate web of global internet culture and the evolving complexity of the virtual world. It’s a unique opportunity to dissect our interactions with the internet, from its absurdity and speed to its utility and potential dangers.

Jeremy Beck, in his introduction in the programme, presents his analysis of the roles and aims of modern-day influencers, and their own influencers, especially money. Regarding the work, he states:

MODERN GOD speaks of a new religion. A new age of worship. Where the influencer has become the modern-day prophet, preaching lifestyle, consumption, and curated perfection, while social media platforms serve as sanctuaries where we worship. The scroll becomes a prayer, the “like” a blessing, and the algorithm an omnipotent force that dictates who rises and who is cast aside. The worship of the screen. 

And so, we have been warned or informed! 

The stage setting is stark and ‘industrial’ in terms of décor, and clearly designed for practical sound and vision filming and projection, with a large centre back screen, a ‘station’ on either side of the stage backed by green screens (suggesting that the scenery may be changed electronically). Each of these ‘stations’ also houses 2 lighting stands with lights glowing, mounted cell phones made visible to the audience though round ‘windows’, and assorted wires. One of the ‘stations’ also contains a stool with a packet of wipes on the seat; the wipes are later presented as a promotional product (Germ-a-go). A pile of grey boxes is stacked near the front of the stage area. Finally, in the back to my right, I see a metal table on wheels (later used in various ways by the dancers). The stage blacks out for the performance to commence. 

As the presentation begins, it becomes quickly apparent that the cell- phone is the central character of the work, in much of this dizzyingly fast-moving and cleverly constructed performance art work whose purpose is to comment on the contemporary world. 

Our first glimpse of action is one of the men talking earnestly into one of the ‘station’ phones about a ‘mistake’ or misjudgement he has made on his channel, and responding to comments, some persisting in demanding an apology. The dancers each take one of the grey boxes and, as they struggle for dominance and possession of their own boxes, it quickly becomes clear that there are also several hand-held phones, in this case, one held by one of the women. Every moment is recorded and broadcast live. As online influencers, each of the six dancers films and projects themselves live (onto the large centre-back screen), often in very brief ‘sound bites’, and then switches very quickly back to their role as members of a face-to-face group. Each projects his or her own sphere of influence, whether it is sale of products, personal beauty, lifestyle and self-care advice, the quirky commentary, or the moment by moment recording and posting of every ‘event’ (interesting or mundane) in their lives, including vicious fights and Tik-Tok-style dances. Also included is a beautiful love pas de deux to slower lyrical music, a potentially moving encounter between a man and a woman, that is changed from one of intimacy and human love to one of narcissism and self- indulgence, as the female dancer captures and posts her own face throughout the duet, while the man appears completely ‘unfazed’ by the distraction. This highlights for me the narcissism and self-indulgence promoted by the never-ending ‘need’ to share with the world one’s moment-by-moment life, even the parts that might or should remain private.  

The music varies in style, including genres such as a hard rhythmic soundtrack, House-style music or quieter lyrical tracks such as that described above. The fast-paced changes remind me of phone-scrolling, minimum input aiming for maximum impact, an impact that feeds the addictions and FOMO of so many of today’s young people. Lighter moments are provided by such appearances as the Segway GoKarts driven by two of the men – smooth-moving sites for filming each other for live projection. Meanwhile, the lighting unobtrusively highlights the key action – at times, simultaneously, we see lit-up action and also action performed in the shadows, ‘twilight’’ areas or in silhouette. 

This art work is a disturbing and pessimistic view of social media, and its manipulative and addictive hold on our young people. As far as I have seen, it is all true! However, let’s not forget that there is good to be experienced as well – connections with distant family, friends and communities of practice, helpful instruction and access to new areas of knowledge, entertainment and healthy pursuits. On the other hand, these positive areas are perhaps more valued by the older and the very young than by those caught up in their online image, ‘friends’ and the felt need to communicate all of their lives – the ones who constantly change to platforms not yet discovered by their parents – to the vertiginous speed of change and views of what is ethical and of value, particularly what could attract a large following (and a large income). 

Having said all this, my lingering images are of earnest and alluring faces projected on the large screen, very rapid changes of topic, viewpoint, personnel and scene, of pain or daring. In my mind, I still see images of brilliantly performed dance, red-clad limbs, high extensions, exciting perfectly executed jumps and turns, speed and accuracy, strong partnering, lifting and group dance, and the peculiarly intriguing rapid staccato moves of heads, limbs and bodies, affects that often appear as if over-caffeinated or drugged. The extreme skill and fitness of the dancers! As the performance draws to a close, I have a sense that the DNA of the influencers has been and is being subtly changed by their lifestyle choices and the pressures of their online lives. To me, the dance reflects this disturbing ingestion into the body’s cells, of something that has not been previously experienced in human life. 

I celebrate the artists’ obvious commitment to the roles and images that they are portraying. A thoroughly engrossing, energetic, visually and aurally exciting, and absorbing performance that has left me feeling disturbed but also exhilarated. 

Well done, everyone. An amazingly perceptive and thought-provoking work of clever analysis, interpretation and questioning, and very skilful construction, synthesis and performance. 

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Footnote Dance Company, now under the Artistic Direction of Anita Hunziker, must be regarded as something of a mega-success story in the annals of dance in Aotearoa. Always underpinned by a contemporary dance aesthetic, the Company was founded forty years ago by dance icon Deirdre Tarrant. Since 1985, it has performed continuously throughout the country, initially working primarily in dance education, progressively developing as an independent dance company and more recently becoming known for its collaborative partnerships that give choreographers the opportunity to create and experiment in the contemporary idiom.

Modern God is one such partnership with choreographer Jeremy Beck and creative production and AV design studio RDYSTDY combining to reflect on the compulsive nature of the “evolving complexity of the virtual world”. The modern God of the title would appear to be a master of manipulation, worshipped by ardent, phone-clutching believers – with a resonance that strikes deeply in the present new world order that we are currently witnessing – for the most part online.

In Beck’s work, the High Priests of the movement are the Influencers – the content creators of the new age – here brilliantly presented in a huge variety of settings by the dancers themselves as they adopt the guises of their online personas. Hana Miller of RDYSTDY has worked as dramaturg with the performers to develop their over-the-top personalities which are amplified exponentially on a big screen upstage centre as they speak to camera on their phones, in various stances and placings. They record each other turn and turnabout, creating a tumultuous effect and often erupting into tumbling or intertwined performers – so you are never quite sure of who is shooting who.

The choreographic content of Beck’s work is arresting, with a sharp street-driven vibe that fully reflects sound designer Benny Jennings often propulsive rhythms. Jenning’s score switches on occasion to beautifully evocative and introspective moments that are enhanced by Beck utilising a softer choreographic design to interpret the atmospheric changes. Tony Black’s lighting design creates in-yer-face bright lights to reinforce the artificiality of the influencers spiels but pulls back to subtly illuminate the solos and group works.

Gabrielle Stevenson fashions a constantly evolving riot of colour and texture in her costume design culminating in distinctive red and black overalls that provide a cohesive structure to the group dance sections that conclude the work. Earlier, ingenious strapping around the bodies provides a gripping device to enable the female dancers to lift each other with ease during a beautiful duet.

Two guest artists, Tyler Carney-Faleatua and Joshua Faleatua join the core group of four dancers that comprise Footnote Dance Company: Veronica ChengEn Lyu, Cecilia Wilcox, Levi Siaosi and Airu Matsuda. They perform non-stop for the duration of the work – switching from dance to dialogue in character with the greatest of ease. It is seriously impressive. The performers approach to the loose-limbed, quasi free-style vocabulary is one of undiluted enjoyment – so it proves equally enjoyable for the audience also.

The animation in the dancers’ faces is superb. When magnified to grotesque proportions on the big screen, it becomes one of the highlights of the work. Also, because dancers are able to inhabit a persona with their whole body – not just their faces – it is entirely convincing.

In true Footnote tradition, Modern God is on tour throughout the country culminating in Oamaru on 15 March. It is a great night’s entertainment that also provides food for thought – speaking as it does to the adulation of celebrities and voluntary allegiance to their shtick, in the present day.

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Modern God is a funny show, with a cutting underbelly. This work sounds the alarm about the insidious, addictive allure of the internet and the role of “influencers”. It is delivered with classy style by a new look Footnote New Zealand Dance to hammer a new stake into the ground for this trailblazing company. Presenting dance for 40 years is a tenacious feat, deserving of celebration.

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MODERN GOD directed and choreographed by Jeremy Beck for FOOTNOTE New Zealand Dance is a complete sensory overload. I’m constantly conflicted and don’t know what to watch.

It starts with a ‘sorry’. An influencer apologetically sings Justin Bieber’s “Is it too late now to say sorry?” to their small patronage of drama addicted followers. The phone’s small screen is projected onto an above screen, so the real-life audience is included in the drama too. RDYSTDY AV Creative Production Studio does an impeccable job of making art for screens. It’s giving Blockbuster on ‘reel’ level. All I want to do is watch the screen though! It is challenging to watch the whole show playing out as I am just so drawn to the giant phone screen. I must constantly remind myself there are extremely talented movers on the stage in front of me. But I’m still obsessed with the screen. Please don’t check my screen time…

Each dancer imbodies an influencer, whether this be the plane enthusiast, the wellness guru, the historian, the interior designer, beauty vlogger or apologetic wanna-be streamer. Everyone looks like they’re having fun! It’s encouraging to watch dance, theatre and technology gel together to bring a brain rot fever dream to life.

The relationship the dancers have to their phones mimics society’s obsession with screens. How much can we consume and whose telling us to consume it? What will we gain if we consume it? What will happen if we don’t? …

The devices are giving main character energy, and we have front row seats.

How different does the screen look to the actual movement on stage though? Nothing is really as it seems. Levi Siaosi’s duet with guest artist Tyler Carney- Faleatua truly is hilarious and sad at the same time. They endeavour to film their love for each other whilst really not being present with each other at all. Is their love for each other real? Or was it just a show for the screen? 

A solo dance by guest artist Joshua Faleatua is the first moment I feel like I can breathe. No vloggers in site. A flowing movement sequence that is still performed to a phone, however, I feel more engaged with the live performance aspect. 

Dancing on trikes might just be my new favourite performance medium. It is so silly and simple. Genius. The synchronicity between Airu Matsuda and Joshua Faleatua is mesmerising. I could lowkey watch them travel in circles for hours. I could lowkey spend hours watching Instagram reels too.

Cecilia Wilcox and Veronica ChengEn Lyu wear restrictive harnesses for their duet, considering the physical boundaries the body must endure when trying to achieve the desired task. Much like a harness, a phone or other technological device, might act in the same way. I do wonder who is actually controlling the harness? Who is controlling your device?

We’re always chasing something but what exactly are we chasing? More money, more fame? We worship these influencers because we think they have something for us to consume to make us better people, right? Gabrielle Stevenson’s costume design is young, hip and completely on brand to keep up with the forever evolving influencer. A flash of Adidas streetwear bounced off bright red Louis Vuitton-esque jumpsuits. It’s giving Sophia Coppola’s The Bling Ring.

The dancers become severely more dishevelled as the performance comes to an end. They’re puffing and sweating, yet still striving to document themselves. They’re constantly acknowledging their device’s audience and there’s a real vulnerability in that. They’re always on job. Influencers usually appear very self-obsessed but how hard would it be to put yourself on the internet constantly, to mostly be dished people’s scrutiny and opinions. Cash money starts flowing from the ceiling and a little while after, there’s complete darkness. No technology. All I can hear is deep breathing. Are the influencers dead? What happens if Jesus isn’t real?? Is all this noise just a distraction for something bigger at play? It’s like they were dancing against each other, for themselves, for the phones.

“Are you the voice in your head? Or you the one listening?”

In the last movement scene, there are no phones. It’s as if a collective language is established that instantly brings me back into the real world, which I appreciate. Watching this show felt like existing in my head after a long day at work, consuming a TV show, watching reels on Instagram, eating half a bag of stale chips and trying to engage in a conversation with my flatmate. I feel anxious and excited, dead and alive. I just want a break. Turn it off. But I always turn it all back on again.

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