Motus Collective is a young company with clear ambitions to develop entertaining new dance works. Their current production is an extension of a work they previously performed in the intimate ballroom space at Carclew. It sits comfortably in the larger venue.
A long, catwalk-like stage with the audience on two sides, facing each other; everything is white. The forty-four severed hands and feet hang suspended over the action, the three large masculine sculptures that adorn either end of the stage by Nicholas Hanisch, and the simple costumes the dancers wear by Vicki Gay are all white. As the audience enters The Space, the dancers are already working on stage, sitting, wandering, looking out at the audience, staring into their eyes with an aloofness, defiance, or vulnerability – it changes frequently.
Once the lights change, a fifty-minute dance begins. A disembodied male voice with a slightly drawling accent asks, “Where did you go?” and the soundscape by Alix Kuijpers kicks in. Comparable sometimes to Max Richter or a primitive Steven Price, this soundscape remains ever-present, an integral element to the work.
The dancers work well together, quickly shifting into patterns of movement that are occasionally mirrored in pairs to begin with or echoed after the fact. Bold gestures appear every so often, and there are slow, seemingly introspective movements that contrast frequently. This is non-narrative, modern, abstract dance that allows the audience to make of it what they will without really creating more than shapes and moods. Overall, it is well-balanced across the stage, and the distance between the dancers creates vistas that use perspective very well.
The liveliness of the choreography makes for some great moments and shows some sophisticated depth, which is certainly entertaining. Just as it veers towards seeming a little arch and soulless, some rather sweet gestures insert familiar human qualities into the piece, which, naïve as they are, bring some warmth. Ultimately, the beauty of this piece is in the eye of the beholder, who is left to make of it what they will.
The title, The Leftovers, alludes to something, just as the severed body parts hanging overhead and misshaped humanoid statues standing on the stage do too. But the piece doesn’t really utilise these elements. It remains defiantly abstract, so ultimately, they appear arbitrary; and, with a slightly amusing flourish, it comes to an end.
Or maybe the piece speaks volumes through its abstract uncertainty? Perhaps that is what The Leftovers really are – the interpretations the audience will voice after the event, in a futile attempt to derive meaning from existential nothingness.
The Leftovers
Until 5th of October, 2024
Space Theatre, Adelaide
