Tutumucky/Dreamers – Scottish Dance Theatre

Stark, rebellious and visceral, Scottish Dance Theatre’s ‘Tutumucky/Dreamers’ is a feast for the eyes, ears, and imagination. Comprising of two 30 minute segments, Boris Seva and Anton Lachky’s stirring choreography teeters delicately on the edge of madness and hysteria, pushing the dancers to their rabid limits before reeling them back in with dramatic precision.

“Stark, rebellious and visceral, Scottish Dance Theatre’s ‘Tutumucky/Dreamers’ is a feast for the eyes”

The Traverse stage is unapologetically white and linear, with the array of dancers lined up in a row, fizzing with energy and ready to spring to life. Dressed in work-appropriate attire, the first half consistently feels like a strange office team-building exercise. The dancers leap around https://www.acheterviagrafr24.com/viagra-pas-cher/ as if drunk: uncontrollably jerking their limbs and pulling strange faces, to the audience’s amusement – think Westboro Baptist Church set in an office building and directed by Wes Anderson. It’s simultaneously unsettling and amusing – with nervous laughter rippling through the audience as the dancers become more and more rabid, observing one another with amusement and almost animalistic savagery.

“…think Westboro Baptist Church set in an office building and directed by Wes Anderson”

Juxtaposed against a thrilling score – a technical mash-up of Bach, Verdi, Hadyn, Vanhal and Chopin, the dancing is fresh and contemporary, but accessible enough https://www.acheterviagrafr24.com/acheter-du-viagra/ to communicate a story. This is a recurring theme throughout – in line with its title, we are never sure what the dancers are depicting as reality and what they suggest is a dream. Normality is twisted into something that is just wrong, and we are left observing the absurdity of everyday situations.

A particular mention must go to Amy Hollinshead, who, as a silly, naïve young girl dressed in white, navigates her way through the world of men with detailed awkwardness. She engages in an Adam-and-Eve-like dance, her movements coy and facial expressions and shrieks of laughter engaging us audibly as well as visually. Her performance is devilishly innocent and well executed. Anton Lachky’s choreography here is simple yet innovative.

The company move like insects, with a particularly hilarious scene seeing Francesco Ferrari gibberishly directing the dancers as if they are one, picking out individuals who argue with, laugh at and sexualise him in turn. The gender battle rages throughout, with the absurdity of male and female interactions being only slightly more ludicrous than real life. Whether it be a woman picking a man out of a row of people or a group of men admiring the female form, we are reminded of the world’s differences that even the dreamers here can’t reconcile. Unfortunately, this theme is sometimes overtly heavy-handed, with the contrast between the first and second halves here being at times jarring.

“…the contrast between the first and second halves here being at times jarring”

After a brief interval, we return to the stage plunged into darkness: in contrast to the first half’s choreographer Lachky, Seva’s choreography here is unapologetically dark. Emma Jones’ excellent lighting design sees the dancers turned into machine-like, hyper-realistic dolls, highlighted by single spotlights. Their muscles cast into shadow, the dancers turn into hell-dwelling creatures, with echoey sounds of water immersing us entirely into this dystopian landscape. It’s unsettling and overwhelmingly spectacular to look at.

This stripped-back second half metaphorically undresses the dancers of the first half, examining human instinct at its most base, carnal and raw. Gone are the polite office workers who laugh at each other: instead, the dancers are dehumanised and mocking of one another. Apprentice dancer Jessie Roberts-Smith’s distorted ballerina is particularly stirring as she moves with strength and ease.

“…examining human instinct at its most base, carnal and raw”

This piece is tantalising, and although at times too ham-fisted is absolutely engaging on every level – we feel simultaneously indulged and stripped bare, without a single word being spoken.



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Lucy Davidson

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