Review: EXPOSED at Space Theatre, Adelaide Festival Centre

Reviewed by Ray Smith, Thursday 7th April 2022.

As my guest and I sat on the steps of the Space Theatre foyer, waiting for the doors to open to the world premiere of Exposed, by Restless Dance Theatre, directed by Michelle Ryan, we were horrified to see Michael Hodyl, much-acclaimed member of the successful dance troupe, being assisted to limp painfully to the opposite steps. Presumably injured during a final rehearsal for the show, I had to wonder how the company would continue the evening's show without such a pivotal performer. My worries were soon to be abated though, as the Restless Dance Theatre would once again demonstrate its preparedness and professionalism.

As we took our seats in the lithe and endlessly adaptable Space Theatre, we were confronted by a shimmering sheet or curtain that filled the entire front of the performance area, in appearance not unlike the reflective panels we often place across our car windscreens in an Australian summer. There was already a soundscape in play as the audience gathered, and it had an intriguing, wistful, but uncomfortable feeling to it, as the sound of affected violins, cello, and human breathing hung in the air, almost like a warning, or was it a threat.

We were informed of Michael's injury just before the customary acknowledgement of country, but I have to say that no one offers it as beautifully, and respectfully as Restless Dance does. I was once again very moved by it and would like to quote it in full. "Restless Dance Theatre is on a journey of understanding of the Spirit of Place. We know this place is ancient and that the living spirit of the first peoples still breathes here. We respect the continuing living spirit of culture which lives through their generations today. Restless acknowledges the family clans of the Kaurna Nation and we shall walk softly and with respect as we feel the footprints of their ancestors."

As the house lights dimmed and the stage lights, designed by Geoff Cobham, came up, it became clear that the shimmering curtain was in fact translucent, and we could make out the standing forms of six dancers, all in underwear, slowly dressing. It felt voyeuristic, and wrong, as if we were violating the privacy of these six individuals, who appeared to be oblivious to each other, and unaware that their personal and normally private ritual of dressing was being observed. Privacy may feel, to many people, to be a right but, to a great many others, it isn't even a possibility.

The screen began to lift, not as a curtain lifts, but more as an overhead garage door might, but backwards. The bottom of the curtain began to move backwards and up, creating a sloped ceiling between the front of the stage roof and the back wall of the stage.

Most contemporary dance companies use props, or objects on stage, to help them to tell the story that they are presenting, and I have known Restless to use everything from drawings in a separate room to an entire bowling alley, but Geoff Cobham's single sheet of fabric and minimal lighting was brilliant in its apparent simplicity. It was anything but simple.

The extraordinary score, by Hilary Kleinig & Emily Tulloch, leapt into the air, as the dancers exhibited anxiety, distrust, and fear, even as they were trying to comfort and assist each other. Compassion was met with scepticism as assistance and support morphed into examination, evaluation, selection, or rejection. Things may not be what they seem, the music said, madrigal can become mayhem, soft melodies may be malevolent. Both my companion and I said that we would like to hear the entire soundtrack again, just as an invisible dialogue on the very topics that the dancers were presenting to us. The marriage of movement and music was superb.

The dance work itself presented a tangle of viewpoints: the isolation that difference can bring, the well-intentioned nuisances that only add to that isolation by focussing on their own interpretation of the needs of the differently-abled, the feeling of helplessness when choices are not offered except under someone else's guidance, the outrage felt when a misguided attempt at assistance is interpreted as an insult and is met by blunt refusal, and the potential for inclusion and support by the very people who understand that need better than any others in any society, the very people who need that inclusion and support.

This is another triumph for Restless Dance and their artistic director, Michelle Ryan, and I urge you to see it.

Photography, Roy Vandervegt.

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