Accidents will happen, and they do. Thousands of car accidents happen each day ranging from a scratched vehicle to a total life change. The latter was the case for Marc Brew whose life changed from being a talented ballet dancer to paraplegic in a split second. While the attributes that made him a ballet dancer were depleted in seconds, his artistic talent and human endurance remained to be channelled into other avenues.
Co-creating with director Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui made perfect sense. Cherkaoui’s non-hierarchical thinking leads him to discovering what is profound in the everyday and finding the creative in terrible destruction. The result of this meeting of minds is an extraordinary evening of total theatre, film, sound and movement dominated by a car placed centre stage and never letting us forget its part in the story.
The production had its genesis during the Covid epidemic, conceived as a film while theatres were closed. It was later adapted in the manner of Hans van Manen’s Live, (1979) with Brew and the camera operators on stage with livestreamed videos. The screens persuasively reflect Brew’s piecing together of his fractured world. At times the focus is intense with in-your-face close ups. At other times images are fragmented and unattached like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.
The car plays its part. As paramedics pump Brew’s body with hands-on compression the headlights illuminate in rhythm, almost showing sympathy for the terrible mess. The car is the setting for act one of the drama as incisive camera work and choreography make the most of the opportunities, filming through windows and over seats. The car is later winched up on a chain and its metal bonnet becomes the blackboard as Brew, like a schoolboy, reconstructs his life through letters from the alphabet that become words, then sentences.
For the opening scenes Brew’s face is masked, an avatar face, that distances the horrors of what must have been a mess of bodies and blood. As Brew dispassionately talks us through his fluctuating moments of lucidity, the events seem like a crash simulation with his body as the test victim. The production is dedicated to his three friends who died in the crash, Joanne, Simon and Toby. He delivers the text with honesty, and with an engaging mix of tenderness and truth: ‘I couldn’t die. I needed to let my mum know I’m alright’. Amazingly Mum was actually in the audience that night.
The performance runs 1 hour 22 minutes, but time is flexible. Brew notes how in deeply traumatic moments time stands still. However, in the hospital scenes as he learns to breathe without the tentacles of life support that thread through his body, days must have seemed endless. The accident happened in South Africa and flying home to Australia was a nightmare as, still unable to sit, he was inexplicably bundled into the luggage compartment. For those who enjoy independent living being disabled can be a humiliating experience. Brew’s experience of being bathed by his mother was a testing moment. It awakened childhood memories, there was the welcome experience of water pouring over his body but it also challenged his autonomy and his manhood. It was these moments rather than the months of physiotherapy, relearning his body’s capability, that made this production so unique and wonderful.
The show was not without some joyful naff humour. Brew’s ‘welcome home’ hat jiggling corks in the Aussie manner and South African scenes of game reserve wildlife each accompanied by the sort of music you play in the car on long journeys. Other sounds were harsher and evocative, crashing metal and background blur. The camera operators Kazutomi Kozuki and Pol Van den Broek need special mention. Incredibly versatile, they were also full-on props handlers and even incidental dancers.
It’s in the final moments that we see Marc Brew choreographer and dancer. The car is pirouetting in clouds of smoke as he expertly manoeuvres his custom-built wheelchair in patterned sequences with elaborate arm and torso movements. ‘I had to stop worrying about what people thought of me and listen to this thing inside me. I had to take on my wheelchair as a choreographic task’, he said. It has worked. Brew’s achievements have been celebrated by a slew of prestigious awards. There is an Arabic word for him, ‘sumud’ (steadfast perseverance) in the face of overwhelming adversity.
As political leaders try to force us into nineteenth century models of nation states, an Accident/a Life celebrates the riches of multiculturalism. Creatives, companies and producers come from across Europe, the UK and reach out to Australia proving a world that can collaborate through art.
