It’s called BAKKHEIA – dancing on the edge. On the edge of what? For the most part, it doesn’t seem that edgy. Three performers clump together like a troika, bopping circuits around the stage like ravers at an all-nighter. They’re really into the rhythmic repetition of small actions – bounces, sways, jiggles, gestures – so that limbs and fingers poke out from the group, but never break it up. They recite fragments of speech, too, and fragments of text strafe the walls from an overhead projector. All this to a soundtrack that alternates club beats with Bach. Only towards the end do the dancers’ tremors begin to reach a degree of physical abandon. Then suddenly the atmosphere changes as they walk into the audience and eyeball us or sit on our laps, still twitching, jerking and (eew!) sweating. Now, yes, we are on the edge, and now, yes, there is an interesting, alienating dynamic. Still feels unearned, though.
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