A ring of brightly lit bodies hangs suspended above the stage of the National Centre for the Performing Arts (NCPA). A lone dancer writhes and wriggles his way across the circle in which he is encased, launching off one body, spinning in mid-air and landing securely with a soft bump at the next. The framing shape changes and it is as though this twisting solo dancer is stuck inside a human kaleidoscope; his survival depends upon his ability to adapt as the bodies around him move. This is NoGravity Dance Company with their Divine Comedy Trilogy inspired by Dante’s Inferno, which is sporadically referenced in the haunting Italian voiceovers between scenes.
The scene shifts, dramatically and often. The dancers become monkeys bouncing on a branch, moving like animated hieroglyphs of ancient Egyptian gods. Synchronised reflections play out from the central point, which is over six feet above the stage itself. Next, upon a backdrop of sea blue, two dancers emulate a pair of jellyfish mating. They seem to float effortlessly through the space, using two huge skirt-like white fans that flap open and close with a crisp “phwap” as the pair move skywards and disappear overhead.
The NCPA is far from packed but I’m sure the majority of the audience (many of whom are young children) spend a large part of the performance trying to fathom how exactly these six human bodies are dancing several metres in the air. There are no wires, no obvious device to aid in their visual trickery, and the dancers’ movements barely hint at the truth. Eventually, the audience is handed the key to the magic that abounds before them. Two bodies stand on stage, firmly rooted by gravity. As they share a sumptuous exchange, they are eclipsed by an image of themselves on a screen in front of them — it’s a screen!