Double Blind

Double Blind, dancer and choreographer Stephanie Lake's inaugural piece for Stephanie Lake Company had its Melbourne season last week on the back of a stupendous Sydney run as part of the Sydney Festival. I'd been following crowd funding efforts and rehearsal updates across Facebook and clicked through to some pretty excited reviews.

The title Double Blind alludes to the now infamous social psychology experiments conducted in the USA in the 1960s that explored obedience in test subjects. Knowing this ahead of the show made me a little apprehensive, anticipating as I was some formal investigation into pain, terror and possibly science lab sadism. It is only heightened by the sight of composer Robin Fox – himself a formidable presence – guru-like at the side of the stage at the ready at the deck.

Apparently stress levels are higher waiting to get on a roller coaster than when you are actually hurtling through the air. Waiting for Double Blind to start I could relate to that piece of research. It opens with Fox's digital sound manipulations – a series of rhythmically varied and unpredictable pulsating bleeps  – that animate the still dancers who move, investigate and respond to the space and one another. The sonic intensity is electric.

I was totally absorbed by the dynamics between the four on stage: Alana Everett, Alisdair Macindoe, Amber Haines and Kyle Page following their every movement in sequences that were richly varied.
The phrases and gestures oscillated between human and machinic registers, shifts that complicated agency in curious ways. I wondered more than once, who or what is in control?  Harriet Oxley's costumes reiterate the institutional flavour: uniform in colour, gendered, with an open slit at the back much like a very refined hospital gown.

If it sounds a bit  menacing it's not. Lake, a keen observer of people, has a wry sense of humour. It is a work that is well modulated, drawing on a range of techniques: calling on the audience to participate at times, deploying props to great effect and, in one hilarious moment, dialogue.

Double Blind's investigation into manipulation and experimentation circles around trust, disclosure, pleasure, curiosity and limits. As the performance progressed I became increasingly aware of the physical demands of the piece, the dancers total exhaustion, plain for all to see. I was most moved by this, on reflection. Lake seems to have something to say about limits, of what happens to us when we are taken there: vulnerability, defencelessness,  surrender. I received it as a disturbing gift.

Cavalia

I am not sure how word reached me that Cavalia was going to be a once in a lifetime not-to-be-missed theatrical event. It must have been a trusted source, not from my actual circle, most likely one of my celebrity friends. Walking the boardwalk to Docklands, I saw a banner with a horses eye and a quote from US late night host, Letterman or Leno or whoever describing it as the single greatest performance they had attended. With that hyperbole, and an awareness that it was the co-founder of Circ de Soliel at the helm, you could say I had some preconceived notions of what I was getting in for. I knew their would be majestic horses, and by the bit of buzz that reached my ears, spectacular showmanship.  I would not describe myself as a 'horse' person. You either are or you're not, if you are, most likely you are nodding your head vigorously right now. But I am a curious person and keen to facilitate memorable experiences for my eight year old and with a couple of freebie tickets I was feeling pretty upbeat.

Fifty one horses from a dozen different breeds. More than 20 performers. Had I checked the website I would have learned I was about to witness 'a symphony of colours and emotions, the central theme of which is the beauty and magnificence of our four legged artists' or to break it down in layman terms: horses, performers, live music and multimedia.

And it was spectacular, really. Mist (or was that a smoke machine?) covering the sandy stage, snow drifting down from the heavens (cleaning fluid pumping out bubbles). Skilled horse-men and women on horse back, standing, dancing, sitting, leaping and hanging upside down from the horses. Occasionally they were joined by performers on aerial wires, taking the action into the sky. In an effort to modulate the experience – the sequences, not exactly narratives, more like fragments built on setting, sound, costume and lighting –  would shift in tempo. On slow setting, a strong fantasy element emerged. Maidens with flowing hair, flowing silk gowns, leather bodices like they'd wandered out of  Sherwood forest. Everyone on horseback had long flowing hair. In the high tempo sections the mood was a bit tougher. Burning man tough. In row D I had the opportunity to study the hair. I saw a lot of hair extensions and dreadlocks. In these sequences the horse whisperers wore crushed velvet, pendants and cuffs.

During intermission I looked around for Kath & Kim. This mix of hippy bogan would have been right up their alley. Am I being a snob? It's true, I've been raised on Melbourne International Festival theatre productions. This was something else, believe me.

Risky business

Rad Dale strikes a pose.

Illness is dangerous and not just for your health. I've been thinking about how it cuts us loose from hub-bub of life. You come out the other side with a pile of jobs just waiting to be done. And you wonder "Is this really what I do with my time? With my life?" In short, its the perfect time to head to the circus to entertain a few fresh ideas.

Otto and I found ourselves under the big top on the weekend for Circus Oz's new performance From the Ground Up stuffing our faces with cinnamon donuts and hot dogs and mixed lollies awe-struck by what young, fit and healthy people can do with their bodies. They were amazing!

It's been 25 years since I saw Circus Oz perform. The last time I was on the cusp of my teenage years and living in the suburbs (a short, failed experiment on the part of my parents). I don't remember much other than women with hairy armpits. I'm pretty sure I'd just discovered shaving. The women on stage, probably only ten years older than myself could have been from another planet, though that was any person with what my sister terms as "carnal knowledge". They had it.

It was so exciting to see that Circus Oz has lost none of its edge. It was still grungy, unashamedly political and well, somehow distinctly Australian. Much like the dare devil acts themselves, the entire enterprise seemed a celebration of risk. I wanted to run away and join these mavericks, musicians and gymnasts very much. Very, very much.

The next day at yoga I had grand plans to put a little extra kick into my inverted poses. Instead I found myself huffing and puffing and uttering the words "Restorative pose?" I'm no circus performer. I'm just a tired lady getting over a flu. And back at yoga. Back to my routine. It's not all that risky but I'm back on my feet.

Circus Oz
From the Ground Up
In Melbourne until 15 July.
Regional Victoria and other states to follow.