REVIEW: Whenua (Q Theatre) – Theatre Scenes: Aotearoa New Zealand Theatre

The primary a part of Whenua closes with the voice of celebrated choreographer Rodney Bell (Ngāti Maniapoto), his phrases projected in crimson throughout a slanting white display — “Ko au ko koe, ko koe ko au”: I’m you, and you’re me.

Connections to 1 one other and to the land are central themes of this hanging double-bill from the New Zealand Dance Firm. The present, which gained acclaim on its European tour earlier this 12 months, includes “Imprint”, choreographed by Bell and Malia Johnston; and “Uku — Behind the Canvas”, choreographed by Eddie Elliott (Ngāti Maniapoto). The artistic imaginative and prescient underpinning these thrillingly completely different items shines by means of in each the manufacturing’s technical points and its tremendously gifted performers (Katie Rudd, Brydie Colquhoun (Ngāti Kawa, Ngāpuhi), Bianca Hyslop (Ngāti Whakaue), ‘Isope ‘Akau’ola (Utulau, Lotofoa; Tonga), Kosta Bogoievski, and Jeremy Beck (Ngāi Tahu/Kai Tahu)). 

Whenua is an engrossing expertise, rooted in Te Ao Māori and mixing conventional and fashionable kinds of dance in an revolutionary but accessible manner.

We’re guided into “Imprint” by a collection of embraces. The dancers transfer amongst each other, wrapping their arms round every member of the corporate in flip; holding the form of that embrace after it has ended. Immediately we’re launched to the center of the work — the indelible impressions individuals depart on different individuals and their environment, and which our environment depart on us. The performers show a formidable fluidity and management, added to at occasions by a mesmerising weightlessness. There’s each a sharpness and style to their actions as “Imprint” cycles by means of what could be known as numerous ‘phases’. Each locations a single dancer centerstage, permitting them to point out off their abilities earlier than returning once more to the collective.

These phases are heralded by transient soundbites, largely of Bell’s voice, and a musical transition. Eden Mulholland’s compositions embody calming nature-inspired sounds, choral preparations, and rhythmic modern beats. From the soothing to the staccato, the music traces the journey of the dancers by means of the piece. Rowan Pierce’s AV, spatial and lighting design is equally expressive. Slower sequences typically function a kind of smoky lighting from above and both aspect of the stage, whereas a row of bulbs on the again flash on and off brightly in the course of the extra frenetic moments. A recurring approach is the usage of a highlight at one finish of the area, which the dancers lean into as if listening for one thing. I significantly loved the second when two dancers swirled collectively behind the oblong white display in the course of the stage, their shadows blurred and multiplied; reminiscent once more of Bell’s phrases: I’m you, and you’re me. 

The display performs a extra outstanding function than I’d initially anticipated, elevating and reducing at completely different factors within the piece. So, too, does the white material laid out onstage nearly ceremonially in the beginning. It transforms satisfyingly from one thing the dancers dance on to one thing they dance with, later being gathered up beneath their toes and draped throughout their shoulders. It’s acceptable that the set ought to be built-in into the efficiency on this manner; linked collectively simply as physique and land are linked. 

“Uku — Behind the Canvas” is a special beast, and feels just like the true headliner of Whenua. If the phrase I might use to suMMArise “Imprint” is move, “Uku” radiates energy. The heightened drama of this work is conveyed by a darker, starker stage than what we noticed in “Imprint”, with no display and as an alternative a backdrop resembling, fairly aptly, a canvas. Rona Ngahuia Osborne’s set design is complemented by Jo Kilgour’s lighting: quite a lot of the piece takes place in and round shadows. All of this invests “Uku” with a suitably mythic high quality. Drawing on the Māori creation story of Hineahuone, the primary lady molded from the earth by Tāne, it opens with the dancers crouched in a line on the entrance of the stage like creatures not but made. Via power and wrestle, they pull themselves up, or are pulled up by others. 

There’s a solidity to the dancers’ actions all through that displays the uncooked, explosive nature of this work. Exploring inner and exterior battle and the place of tangata whenua, it’s the wāhine posing the query: “Is that this my land?” I felt a higher sense of the narrative ‘arc’ of this piece, and was intrigued to search out the storytelling executed by means of the dancers’ voices in addition to their our bodies. “Uku” replaces their smooth exhales and exclamations in “Imprint” with a full-blown vocal efficiency, involving waiata (“Tai Aroha”) and haka. Eddie Elliott’s daring choreography calls for consideration; as does the music created with Jason Wright and Alistair Deverick, which features as an efficient, typically ominous soundscape combining the primordial with the economic. 

Most compelling is the usage of clay, with the performers smearing it on themselves, each other, and the stage. An apparent reference to the earth out of which Hineahuone was shaped, the clay exhibits clearly on their darkish costuming (additionally by Osborne), enabling them to actually put on that story on their our bodies. The streaks of clay additionally inform the story of the bodily area, marking the place every dancer has been like a map. It’s a map that grows extra complicated because the piece builds in depth together with the dancers’ actions. At occasions they’re locked collectively; at others, they break aside violently. When that rigidity is launched partway by means of the work, we’re handled to a playful metatheatrical interlude, involving the wāhine passing commentary on the tāne. That interlude acts as a stunning turning level, with the feelings ramping up much more strongly than earlier than. But regardless of its rage, or maybe due to it, “Uku” ends on a quieter notice — a dimming stage and a dancer’s deal with to Papatūānuku, confirming: “That is my residence”. 

Whenua performed the Q theatre the 10-Eleventh of April 2024