Review: OZASIA FESTIVAL 2015: DEAR JOHN Transformed Nexus Theatre Into A Giant Steampunk Instrument

Reviewed by Ray Smith 02/10/2015

As the audience entered the space at the Nexus Theatre it was obvious that Dear John, from M.O.V.E. Theatre, was not going to be a normal theatre experience.

There was no stage, there were no seats. We wandered quietly, puzzled without a guide amongst the strange, sculptural objects placed there, to the steady, slow pulse of a single drip of water falling from the ceiling into a glass, laboratory beaker.

A contraption built from an iron frame piano sat patiently. Familiar, yet alien. A post apocalyptic mutation of the beast that stood mute in many a grandmother's parlour, held together by string and wire.

Drip.

Two intriguing framed structures at the end of a wooden ramp held pairs of glass cylinders, tubes and wires sprouting from them, mounted on each end of a pivoted see saw. "Frankenstein's lab", I thought.

Drip.

Frameworks containing dozens of light bulbs waited patiently in the half light. Lengths of string shot from the piano up to pulleys in the roof, but to what end?

Drip.

We were welcomed to the space, after several minutes of examining the set, by the company's tour manager, who told us that we were free to wander anywhere during the performance unless the room was too dark for safe navigation.

The performance began with the dancer, Tung I-Fen, standing on the wooden ramp, dressed in a white jacket, connected by strings over the ceiling pulley system to the piano. A deep, resonant 'boom' issued from the belly of the piano.

As Tung I-Fen moved she pulled the strings which actuated hammers on the piano. Every movement triggered a note and as her movements became more vigorous so the 'playing' became more frenzied.
My first impression was that of a marionette, with the piano as puppeteer but that illusion vanished as Tung I-Fen's movements became those of a musician using low-tech remote control to play her instrument. The feeling changed yet again as the dancer seemed to be struggling to escape her bonds, the piano bellowing its outrage at her behaviour.

Drip.

Lights began to glow beneath the piano creature as another cast member started to play it directly.
The role of musician in this piece is normally played by Lin Kuei-Ju, the composer and musical director but, for the Oz Asia Festival performances another musician has taken her place. Unfortunately I have been unable to find her name.

The 'playing' of the piano is more than a little unorthodox in that it has no keys. The hammers are manipulated directly or are struck with mallets.

Simple metal objects leap excitedly on the naked, horizontal strings, balls are bounced upon them, and the player's left hand is encased in a glove with articulated piano hammers mounted on the back, in the manner of Edward Scissorhands.

The dancer's white jacket has been raised towards the roof and becomes a true marionette as the piano player twitches at its strings.

Drip.

Wang Chung-Kun, the installation artist responsible for the dissected piano and the strange glass cylinders, stands behind his eerie window frames and starts to 'play' his instrument. A low whistling, like that of a person blowing over the neck of a bottle, begins.

Lights pulse in the glass cylinders as they rise and fall, like the trays of scales weighing some unknowable justice. As each cylinder falls, water from its rising counterpart flows into it. The restricted space causes the pitch to rise and the loss of water causes the pitch of the other cylinder to fall. It was a mesmerising and utterly beautiful pas de deux.

Drip.

The dancer has vanished it would seem. Only the sounds of the piano and the cylinders, punctuated by the rattles and crashes of objects like wind chimes high in the roof, snatched into life by strings pulled brutally by pneumatic rams attached to the piano frame, their indignant snorts of released air adding to the mix. Lights flash and flicker in time with the sounds as the dancer reappears and, with a simple hand held torch, draws on the walls of the building with the shadows of the instruments.

Drip.

Tung I-Fen leads an audience member, a young girl, by tempting her to touch the light in her hand but always sweeping it out of reach. Through the loosely gathered observers they go, past the strange instruments young Karpagha Ramanathan was led to a wall of extinguished light globes. The dance of the lights began.

Karpagha would turn lights on and Tung I-Fen would rush to turn them off. A fast and physical game that was as joyous to watch as it was impossible to understand. Finally Karpagha was once again tempted by Tung I-Fen's bright hand and led into a corner and darkness.

Drip.

This was a completely engaging and thoroughly enjoyable performance. The total deconstruction of the performer/audience divide was achieved effortlessly and plunged the audience into the very heart of the show.

When Tung I-Fen "disappeared" she did so by becoming one of us. Just another observer, "I had to convince myself not to be noticed" she said.

Every performance of this work will be new and fresh, as the improvisations are based on the movements of the observers as much as the decisions of the other players. "It's like throwing a ball and seeing how the others will catch it" said composer Lin Kuei-Ju. I think John Cage would approve of that.

Director: Fu Hong-Zheng

Lighting Designer: Channel Huang

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