Let’s just say that any creation by Irishman Michael Keegan-Dolan is worth taking the time and trouble to see. If it’s his company Teaċ Daṁsa in Mám, which first aired in 2020, and which I saw at Sadler’s Wells, it’s definitely worth venturing out on a cold winter’s night. A mám is a pass through the mountains, we are told and thus Keegan-Dolan invites his audience to witness a kind of ritualistic festival, a window on an Irish rural community and one that isn’t always portrayed as that straightforward.
Inevitably there was a religious thread to the very loose narrative. The stoical young girl (Delilah Neilson) who watched the proceedings unflinchingly, occasionally participating, was dressed in a simple white frock and shoes. One surmised that she was the ‘innocent’, perhaps awaiting her confirmation, and along the way being exposed to the natural imperfections which are part of adult life. When the curtain went up, there was a sinister, slightly intimidating presence on stage.
Cormac Begley, who has composed the music in collaboration with s t a r g a z e and plays his concertina live at every performance, sat centre stage adorned with a large mask representing the head of a ram. Behind him the curtain lifted on a row of seated people dressed in black, wearing black paper balaclavas, rhythmically stamping and slapping their thighs. It felt very visceral, powerful even, but disconcerting.
And then Begley lifted the mask off and began to play joyfully. It’s 80 minutes of borderline madness but peppered with clever, witty and transfixing observations on human nature.
Within a flurry of frenetic movement there were contrasting moments of slow motion. The movement was always fluid, the bodies melting as if boneless.
Begley’s music is key to the expressive choreography and yet when a curtain fell half way through to reveal s t a r g a z e, a kind of chamber orchestra extraordinaire, it was as if we had left tradition to venture towards something less predictable and possibly more contemporary. Though Begley ultimately remained the central focus.
The quirkiness of Keegan-Dolan’s thoughts and how they present themselves on stage has often proved magical. Who could imagine that opening a bottle of juice could be so significant. Or throwing a half-eaten packet of crisps into the audience (out of pantomime season) could provoke such startled mirth. There was a section where the dancers, one in particular (Holly Vallis), repeatedly fell to the floor, as if consumed by some sort of unfortunate dizziness or narcoleptic episode. They were caught, but all I could think of was ongoing nightmares where I’m semi-awake and in a situation where I can’t control my balance. It was suddenly uncomfortably identifiable.
There were some really standout moments including a section where James (Jimmy) Southward floated around the stage kissing each dancer or musician firmly on the lips as if in doing so, he was causing each of them to fall in love with him. The fact that he strenuously avoided engaging with Keir Patrick was highly amusing.
In another section two dancers at opposite ends traversed a row of seated cast members in order to attempt to connect in a romantic interlude. As they stepped on the thighs of the seated dancers it was clearly a painful exercise of endurance, accompanied by loud piercing screams and faces expressing agony. Without wishing to sound callous, it was hilariously funny.
The dancing throughout was infused with tremendous energy and even when seemingly relaxed, the atmosphere was buzzing. At the close of the work, another curtain fell to reveal a sort of large electric fan, symbolic of something greater. The young girl stood on the raised stage, presiding over the entire cast while they sang. As she waved her arms, with the light behind her, she looked angelic and as if she might suddenly levitate.
I don’t pretend to know the exact meaning of everything that Keegan-Dolan intended but the combination of vigorous and dynamic dancing, terrific live music and a series of humorous interludes makes for cracking entertainment.
