The New Zealand Dance Company once again pivots to present their season of Night Light, on line. Whilst a digital performance cannot emulate the magic of the ‘live’ experience, this initiative gives access to a wider audience. Night Light was to be presented in Whangarei and Otautahi – the company’s first tour in over two years – but these aspirations were curtailed several times by Covid restrictions.

The programme consist of two highly contrasting works, one a whisper and one a scream, one a gentle poem of harmony and hope, one a grunty rap of rage. They complement each other well and together provide a playground for the sublime dancers of the company to unleash their multi-dimensional talents.

The Fibonacci choreographed by Tor Colombus is a reworking of the piece that was first presented by NZDC in 2019. In the interim the choreography has developed and contains more texture and accents than the previous iteration. Dancers, Carl Tolentino, Chrissy Kokiri, Ngaere Jenkins, Brydie Colquhoun, Xin Ji and Toa Paranihi create a gentle and sinuous ensemble as they flow through intricate sequences of movement.
Less inventive in the movement vocabulary – arms  bend at the elbows to rotate and ripple around an often upturned head, the upper chest circles then side lifts, the feet are grounded with minimal leg action and a handful of jumps and minimal lifts – rather the real juice and choreographic virtuosity comes from the complex intertwining of dancers as they join another, then split apart to regroup in completely different configurations.

The Fibonacci is inspired by mathematical sequences found in nature in which each number is the sum of the two preceding ones. It can be seen in the flowering of an artichoke or the uncurling of a fern. This dance murmuration evokes these patterns,  drawing out a sense of wonder in the viewer. The soundscape by Rowan Pierce gives the work dynamics and massages the ears whilst his gorgeous spatial design, lit warmly by Jo Kilgour, soothes the eye.

Taking inspiration from the glitched-on-the-cusp-of-death paintings of Andy Denzler and placing his ideas firmly in the domain of Te Ao Māori, choreographer Eddie Elliott unleashes his snarling, playful and surprising imagination to create a panoramic work: Uku – Behind the Canvas.

Elliott continues to grow as a maker. He has a remarkable talent for evoking realms of the seen and unseen onstage, as if the spirits hover, as if the performers move in and out of their physical sheaths. He is unafraid to place his tongue in his cheek which is refreshing and breaks down the earnestness that so often bogs down contemporary Māori dance.
This results in a work that is vast in its textural range and highly inventive choreographically in terms of the movement vocabulary, the use of space and configurations and the overarching rhythm and dynamics. The world of Uku – Behind the Canvas is evoked sonorously. Jason Wright and Alastair Deverick are a magicians of sound, Elliott is fortunate to have these collaborators. Many many moments are embellished in their potency by the utterly surprising sounds that hover around the ear. Lighting designer Jo Kilgour also brings great skill to the arena with her haunting lighting – the use of distinct pools and shafts create a filmic intensity.

Chrissy Kokiri is the beating heart of Elliott’s work She is utterly expansively riveting. All the dancers of the company bring an intensity to their performances that simmers beyond the screen. They are not just physically astonishing and adept but also deeply and dramatically convincing as human/animals writhing, stalking and shapeshifting on the stage.

Uku – Behind the Canvas is exceptional, chthonic, primordial.

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• Copyright © belongs to the reviewer

Copyright © belongs to the reviewer

The New Zealand Dance Company’s long-awaited season Night Light was an exciting kinesthetic experience on a rain swept Auckland night with Covid-19 cases rising again. It was a perfect launch back into live dance after two and half years of watching online. In the programme notes the two works were described by NZDC’s co-artistic director and choreographer, Tor Colombus as ‘evolving into the fullest expression of their ideas’, following the pandemic-driven cancellations of the original 2020 performances.

The Fibonacci was an optimistic, endorphin producing work that affirmed the importance of community and human touch.  A single lamp descended, spreading light and summer warmth over the six dancers,  clad in mango palette costumes. Fibonacci describes a mathematic sequence where each number is the sum of the two preceding, and it is this precise structural device that drove both the inventive musical score by Rowan Pierce and the light yet controlled choreography by Colombus. The score was  repetitive, mesmeric, with shifts in tempo and style, and the movement, wedded to the score’s geometric patterns exuded freedom and happiness.

In nature the Fibonacci sequence is revealed in myriad forms and Colombus sought to imitate this variety in the work’s design.  Each element began as a tight group, before the dancers rippled out into the space in flowing duets, trios, solos then regrouped once more in unison. As if fed by a spring the dancers expressed a natural effervescence, with articulate visual language of sweeping arms and legs, elastic backbends and spins. Individual expressions of desire, isolation or disunity were softly yet insistently dismantled with a return to the group’s togetherness.

Seemingly a post-lockdown celebration of community, it was indeed prescient; The Fibonacci was created by Colombus prior to the first lockdown.

In complete contrast,  Eddie Elliott’s Uku – Behind the Canvas was situated in a shadowy, Te Ao Māori  story of birth, grief and ritual. A tour de force, it was constructed around the creation story of Tāne and Hineahuone, where the first wahine was created from uku (clay) by Tāne. The story was skillfully merged into a contemporary birth ritual, ipu whenua, with liquid clay as the medium for the life-giving power of women.

The meta-narrative, the Uku creation story, was dexterously woven throughout the work, giving it cohesion and discipline from the opening to the closing moments. A gourd provided a constant supply of clay liquid to which the dancers returned to coat their arms, legs and bodies. The grey emulsion acted as a catalyst for change, despair, renewal, succour and obsession. Chrissy Kokiri was a pivotal character who brought to life half-formed beings, and set them on a journey that merged ancestral voices imparting ancient ways of being, to offbeat contemporary  exchanges and intricate relationships. It delved deep into disrupted psyches and loss and rose triumphant with exhilarating kapa haka, hip hop and electric ensemble sequences. Elliot built dramatic tension and pathos then released it with humour or dazzling dance. It was powerful and emotional.

The choreography was matched by the brilliance of the six dancers – Kokiri, Carl Tolentino, Ngaere Jenkins, Xin Ji, Toa Paranihi, Brydie Colquhoun – who carried the depth of the work from their personalities onto the stage with breathtaking physicality.

In both works the impressive array of artistic talent – composers, lighting, costume and set designers and Mātanga Mātauranga Māori (cultural advisor) – all contributed to the lustre and integrity of the programme. Given the NZDC’s level of professionalism and articulation to realise so completely each choreographic vision, one thing is certain – this is a programme that will resonate with audiences across Aotearoa and needs to tour. Our land and people will be the stronger for the opportunity to share in the remarkable language of movement, expressed through these impressive works.

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Copyright © belongs to the reviewer