Bangarra Dance Theatre. The Canberra Theatre Centre. 11 Jul 2013
The last time Bangarra Dance Theatre graced the stage at the Canberra Theatre Centre was to showcase the specular beauty of Kati Thanda with their ode to the sacred landmark, Terrain. In contrast, Blak is a return to social themes, this time exploring the predominant issues of contemporary young Indigenous Australians’ lives.
Broken into three acts, Blak dedicates the first, entitled Scar, to the period of turmoil that is the young man’s rite of passage. Inspired by the traditions of men’s business in North East Arnhem Land, Scar investigates how ‘on country’ practices translate to an urban context where boys have just as much need for a defined and formally recognised transition into manhood. The result is an intense, unsurprisingly aggressive, mashup of dance styles, posturing and stylised violence, consisting of everything from breakdance to echoes of traditional Indigenous ceremonial dance with the technique of modern dance percolating throughout.
Donned in their hoodies and track pants, the male members of the troupe provide a rousing, gritty and testosterone-fuelled interpretation of finding one’s rightful place in a clan. Set around the amber glow of a campfire under the cover of night with a phallic object prominent in the backdrop, the aesthetic evoked tradition while remaining unmistakeably urban. Furthermore, the pumping score by David Page and Paul Mac, reminiscent of an outdoor rave and featuring vocals in language, served to heighten the fervour immensely.
The bittersweet experience of young Indigenous women was the subject of the second act, Yearning, shining a light on their own initiation and spiritual connection to country and language, and the all too frequent experience of suicide and domestic violence. The aesthetic here was softer and more tranquil in comparison to the men’s, with the female dancers draped in flowing fabrics designed by Luke Ede and exuding a more harmonious ambience. While feeling dichotomous and slightly stereotypical, it made for a good contrast to the discord in the first act.
Using every ounce of their being from their core to their fingertips, the dancers were the collective epitome of grace, portraying some extremely confronting and difficult scenarios with strength, dignity and elegance.
Here the set design was simple, with only some essential props to assist the translation of the narrative and a circular shaped sculpture as the backdrop to contrast with the men’s. Also featuring traditional Indigenous female vocals, the soundscape was tender, soothing and acutely feminine.
The final act, Keepers, saw the two genders meet under set designer, Jacob Nash’s glistening and earthy mass that transformed the environment from a stage to an imposing and magnificent rock formation, performing a tribute to Aboriginal elders and traditional knowledge and culture.
As a mixed troupe the Bangarra dancers were symbiotic, displaying beautifully hypnotic duets and moving in a natural harmony with one another. The group formations were also visually striking, with the men and women interconnecting like schools of fish under the waves. However, the ceremonial aspect of Keepers was hands down the most stirring offering of the evening, and where I felt this production really came into it’s own.
Blak overall seemed more experimental and physically innovative than previous Bangarra offerings. This was no doubt the result of the new mix of creative collaboration between directors and choreographers Daniel Riley McKinley and Stephen Page.
However, compared to other contemporary dance productions of late, there are still the odd moments in Blak where as a member of the audience the choreography feels indulgent or superfluous; these are fortunately few and far between, with the majority of the content deeply engaging and relevant.
Blak is a no holds barred glimpse into the lives of modern-day Indigenous Australians, who are seeking to navigate the complexities of the present while maintaining and respecting the traditions of the past. It demonstrates that the two are not mutually exclusive, but rather a thing of great power when combined.
Deborah Hawke
When: Closed
Where: The Canberra Theatre Centre
Bookings: Closed
