Lorna Irvine is both impressed and moved by Scottish Dance Theatre's latest.
Damien Jalet's sublime opener Yama is inspired by Japanese sacred ritual—indeed, '’yama’ is Japanese for mountain, which plays an important part in Japanese ascetic monks' beliefs. The androgynous, almost naked ensemble of dancers emerge one by one from a hole, which could be the pit of hell, a sink hole or volcano, like ancient people entering the world.
They entwine, group off and move sideways like crabs or spiders, limbs and long hair alike tangled in a seething mass, before dressing in rags and casting off the wigs in a search for individual identity. The dancing is frenzied, a relentless thrashing which becomes ever more elegant, like a mutation of movement.
Two dancers, a man and woman, are left, as the group return to the source- swivelling down, down into the ground. A jarring, hypnotic piece of choreography which is as mesmerising, intense and beautiful as the distorted throb of Winter Family's post-rock soundtrack.
Kingdom,meanwhile, feels like pilgrims setting up their own autonomous society. Jorge Crecis' very precise choreography (inspired by the Occupy Movement in Madrid in 2011) is integrated with the creation of a frame, which the dancers themselves construct, consisting of 80 bamboo poles and red rope. It could be a teepee or climbing frame, but instead acts as a makeshift shelter. Roles are delegated, leaders chosen and movement emerges only after the frame is completed.
The dancers' limb-work is jerky, punky and yet vulnerable with arms rotating, weaving in and around the construction, mirroring the struggle to build the shelter in time. Collective responsibility meets strength: this piece seems to represent the power of humans in battling nature—very much of our time, as the effects of global warming have defeated so much of the country this winter.
On tour.
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