REVIEW: Brindabella, BalletLab (Melbourne)

Brindabella
BalletLab
Merlyn Theatre, CUB Malthouse until Saturday

A brilliant curtain alive with red light announces that we are about to see no ordinary dance event. The publicity has told us that Brindabella is a queer dance performance, 'a baroque fantasia' adapted from Jean Cocteau's version of Beauty and the Beast. Many of us recall the classic fairytale from childhood - fear turns to enchantment and true love prevails when the beauty within is discovered.

We can be certain that this time round there will be no such nonsense. Phillip Adams and Miguel Gutierrez are co-choreographers and their work is accompanied by a brilliant ensemble of musicians playing an evocative score composed by David Chisholm. The overture is sombre, wildly dissonant, perhaps threatening sinister things to come. Lighting and costumes are of a similar high order.

Act 1 sets the scene for 'La Belle.' It’s impressive. Dancer, Brooke Stamp, in a gorgeous costume, straight out of Marie Antoinette’s wardrobe is surrounded by three very self absorbed male courtiers. However they have no interest in the belle.

All are obsessed with their images in hand-held mirrors. But soon we are in Act 2 (L’amour). This is the wild world of nature, a 'forest' where there is a lot of yowling going on and much rushing about. Even the trees rush about because they are strapped to the backs of the dancers. This is soon to become a melee of the unleashed libido. There is a great deal of running in circles as the dancers gradually divest themselves of their costumes. It takes some time but it’s all good fun as the audience gets to catch some of the garments as they are flung in all directions.

Dressed only in their underwear the dancers look delicious and can now get down to business. Soon there are skirmishes between couples, lots of wrestling and coy campy come-ons that appear to be consummated behind the curtain while the musicians play gently in waltz-time. The dancers are then revealed in what we assume to be post-coital languor; a gentle dreamy interlude soon to rudely shattered. There is a brief scene with a bicycle built for two and a lot of sexual innuendo but it's not developed much beyond the expected belly laugh.

Act 3 releases the beast with few holds barred. The music ensemble goes into rock mode, the string instruments shriek and drums thunder. Clutchings and gropings go into wild over drive. It's an all-out pretend orgy and this reviewer started looking at her watch and wondering what happened to dancing. Had it just suddenly gone out of fashion? Become uncool? Where was the movement invention and fine structural composition we have often seen from Philip Adams in the past? As that other Phillip Adams is wont to say when at a loss for words – Oh dear oh dear.