Whakairo
Dance
Beneath the barbed wire
by Francesca Horsley
Alcoholism, male aggression and child abuse on the dance floor.
A family of six struggle in vain to contain the father’s explosive anger. He grabs and twists their hair, snarling and lashing out viciously until, drained and prone, he vomits repeatedly. His wife tries to protect her daughter while the words “Who’s looking after the kids?”, repeatedly called out from the edges of the drama, go unanswered.
This hellish meltdown was the first full-length dance-theatre work by choreographer Moss Patterson, and the standout performance at Tempo, Auckland’s month-long dance festival. Presented by Atamira Dance Collective, Whakairo resonated with echoes of Once Were Warriors – alcoholism, male aggression and child abuse.
For Patterson, it was a significant departure from the flowing, restless movement studies he has produced for companies such as Footnote, Touch Compass and Black Grace. Although his hallmark intersecting and weaving movement underpinned the work, it was the harrowing social context that dominated.
Whakairo was framed by two powerful images. A giant skeletal whare, coiled in barbed wire, hung over the stage, the family self-destructing under its eerie shadow. The mythical figure of Ruatepupuke, father of the art of woodcarving, carried the deeper symbolism of the work. The legend’s narrative of transgression, punishment and, ultimately, the gift of whakairo, the rhythmic harmonies of woodcarving, was interwoven into the tragedy of a contemporary family. The motif – to find out where we are going, we need to listen to our past – offered a way forward.
Clearly, Patterson wished the work to be provocative. Its abrasive physicality pushed artistic and audience boundaries, intent on driving home an unpalatable truth. Less immediacy would have created a breathing space with no loss of emotional impact. But maybe he didn’t want to give us a way out.
Also on the theme of family break-up, film-maker Shona McCullagh’s short dance film Break, shown as part of the festival, is a mini-masterpiece. The story of a mother leaving her relationship and her son is told in slicing episodic fragments, which give it a surreal feel.
Using intricate choreography and ingenious technology, McCullagh combines spatial acrobatics and a rich domestic grain. The movement alternates between geometric and fluid lines, capturing the tensions and dislocations of the family’s interrelationships.
The couple (Thomas Kiwi and Ursula Robb) slide under a kitchen table, then twist up and over it; the boy (Arlo Gibson) joins his parents in bed, wriggling until he angles them apart. The couple fight in stylised gestures, tossing and buffeting each other; the boy, isolated by his parent’s discord, runs wildly through cornfields or muses alone in a barn.
The trio’s final anguish is played out in an airborne sequence in a pine forest. Kiwi hovers and spins, Robb arches, her legs rotating backwards. The film ends with Robb on the centre line of a country road, driving herself forward, her body still tugged by the connection to her distant watching son.
Ann Dewey’s Paper Tiger was a lovely abstract work of solos and duets that explored contrasting youthful energies, set against a Zen-like backdrop of flax sculpture and a white pleated screen.
The movement began with Will Barling and Zoe Watkins in counterpoint, each exploring their own nuances: Barling bulky and sharp, Watkins liquid and undulating. They briefly intersected before returning to singular worlds. The partnering gradually increased, becoming more dynamic and complex until they entwined like vines around each other.
Youthful talent was also evident in Back Lit Production’s The Leaning Tower of Penchant: an exploration of servitude to consumerism and glamour. The company, made up of recent Unitec dance graduates, is gaining a reputation for impressive social commentary. The dancers were elegantly dressed – one, bent double and bound to her shoes, hopped; another’s neck strained as she sought to capture her image in a mirror; yet another gingerly navigated over teacups. Two were roped, their bodies arched with craving. It was mesmeric and darkly witty.
