Placing choreography inside a rave by wrapping eight professional performers within the throbbing mass of a dancing audience was an innovative, if disappointing, experience. I have reviewed thousands of dance shows over many years, but I can honestly say that I have never experienced anything remotely like this.
Sadler’s Wells East (SWE) once again proved its versatility as a dance venue by having the seats folded back to leave a large open space with some tiered steps on which the DJ, Call Super, stood, pumping out non-stop music, so loud that my ears are still ringing with a low-pitched siren, two days later!
The “club” opened at 8pm in a set that lasted for two-and-a-half hours, non-stop. I’m not familiar with the rave scene: is there never anywhere to sit? I did eventually find a few seats at the top of the tiered steps but unhelpfully behind a barrier, so I had to take the weight off my legs occasionally by resting on the steps. SWE staff wandered around the space shining torches on the ground, looking to pick up any resting or empty glasses. On our way into the theatre, staff placed a SWE sticker over the lens of everyone’s mobile phone but it was so hot inside that the stickers peeled off and people were happily taking photos, I suppose just like in any ordinary rave!
For the first half-hour, every dancer I saw was a member of the paying public. And I use the word “saw” loosely since the lighting was so dark it was impossible to distinguish anyone’s features. Eventually, well over 30 minutes in, I vaguely made out some costumed dancers, beyond the crowded throng of punters, in the far corner of the auditorium, appearing like distant silhouettes in the darkness.
Shortly afterwards, a group of eight dancers was lit in the centre of the space. Their movement was in the idiosyncratic style that Sharon Eyal has evolved: repetitive, hypnotic in small, neat steps that seemed to be emotionally charged. They gradually dispersed into the crowd until it was impossible to tell performers and public apart.
Staff with headsets and microphones wandered through the crowd making sure that the dancers’ space wasn’t invaded, apart from when it was allowed! The effect between the professional dancers and the crowd was something akin to magnetic repulsion with an arc around the dancers forcing a widening void between them and the crowd.
Another shoulder-rolling, back-bending sequence of short incessant steps brought the dancers closer to me, enabling an appreciation of their tight, ripped flesh-coloured costumes, lacy tops attached to woollen shorts by suspenders, emphasised by vampiric eye makeup. This fascinating and strange mix of futuristic and prehistoric dress was designed by Maria Grazia Chiuri, formerly the creative director of Christian Dior Couture. Although now with clearer lighting by Alan Cohen, their movement was still largely obscured by the throng.
I got an even closer glimpse of these sprites nearer the hour mark as they lined up, hands held, in a group patrol around the perimeter of the hall. On the second circuit they moved into a strutting, angular Pina Bausch-like procession, almost as if they were ignoring the rave to perform a conga!
After this brief tour around the club, the lighting changed to roving spots like anti-aircraft batteries searching for bombers during the blitz, although the professional dancers seemed to disappear again, dissolving into the audience. These choreographed interludes regularly punctuated the thumping repetitive music otherwise enjoyed by the audience being immersed in the sound.
As luck would have it, wherever I was standing, the pro dancers were generally somewhere else, although once I turned around to find one of Eyal’s ensemble right behind me, his head covered with a tight balaclava-type mask, wearing sunglasses and a small backpack! Later the whole group of eight assembled in the dark, next to me, together with a technician who seemed to be cueing them into the music. While still covered by darkness, they hoisted a woman dancer into the air, facing front, her legs bent upwards from the knee, as if in a swimming pose. Once she was placed back on the floor, they shimmied past me in high-stepping slow rhythmic movement, like a parade of zombies, fists clenched as if preparing for a fight.
The best of the show came in the final 15 minutes with escalating, explosive rhythmic dance in the central space, again surrounded by an audience in thrall to their movement. The lights came up and the professional dancers made their way to huddle, applauding, behind the hard-working DJ.
While the immersive concept of R.o.s.e was certainly imaginative, and everyone’s experience will have been different, my own fleeting and minimal exposure to the structured choreography made this a show to endure rather than enjoy.
