Review: MARROW – ADELAIDE FESTIVAL 2024 at Odeon Theatre

Reviewed by Ray Smith, Wednesday 13th March 2024.

As many familiar faces gathered in the foyer of the Odeon Theatre to experience the world premiere of Australian Dance Theatre's Marrow, the heat of the day was still permeating the building and the simple cardboard fans provided by the box office were beating the air like the wings of butterflies.

We were here to bear witness to an event described as, “a choreographic course correction for a nation in search of a new direction”, and if the heat of the day left us all feeling less than comfortable, it was an appropriate discomfort given recent events affecting the First Nations people of this country. The shocking rejection of the referendum for a simple request to have indigenous voices heard had initially left me bewildered, then angry and, finally, deeply embarrassed.

The shameful results of the most recent ‘closing the gap’ report read like a litany of abject failures, as the uninformed and expensive decisions of governments over many years to do things to a people rather than with those people moved the dial backwards rather than forwards.

The appalling images on our national television screens of three Aboriginal children aged six, seven, and eight years old, sobbing desperately, their wrists bound by zip ties, as a large white man marched up and down in front of them, cracking his knuckles, as distraught relatives of the infants begged for their release. He had found them in the backyard of an empty house. Welcome to 21st Century Australia, and yes, we should be feeling uncomfortable.

The work that we were about to see was born of this current situation and, while the brainchild of artistic director Daniel Riley, the work itself was a collective effort of the entire dance company's artists and goes well beyond the theatre, into workshops and educational programmes for schools, both Secondary and Primary, into community groups, and educators’ Professional Learning sessions. Perhaps if non-indigenous six, seven, and eight-year-olds can be given the opportunity to learn about the struggles of First Nation people we can look forward to a more inclusive conversation in the future.

The 'welcome to country' was offered by Major (Moogy) Sumner AM, the Ngarrendjeri Elder whose mother was from the Kaurna people on whose land we were gathered, and he invoked the spirits from all directions to join us, and to protect us while we were here. Uncle Moogy was also the cultural dramaturg for this performance.

The show was then introduced by the South Australian Minister for the Arts, and by Daniel Riley himself, who was at pains to point out, in his typical humility, that the work was not his, but that of the dancers themselves.

A deep, resonant drum beat began as the theatre darkened, the dancers entering set designer Matthew Adey's naked stage. Tight circles of spotlights dotted the empty space from the open roof above, through the smoky atmosphere, as the drone of voices began in James Howard's soundscape.

The dancers moved around the edges of the space, rhythmically and at pace, backwards, their arms and legs pulsing in angular movements to the beat, costume designer Alisa Paterson's loose shirts and shorts allowing maximum movement to the performers. Their movements were altogether contemporary, but there was an edge of traditional dance in them, more staccato than legato, extremely powerful, and brutally intentional, yet fluid, the dancers exhibiting absolute control over their bodies as they moved relentlessly as one.

There were so many allusions to water, to wind, to plants and animals, to suffering, sadness, and loss, but also to nurture, to care and compassion, to understanding, and sympathy of the rejection and dejection apparent as dancers rolled in pain, in disbelief and despair. It was beautiful and yet awful to watch.

A large, plain expanse of black cloth was slowly and carefully unrolled from the side of the stage and dragged over the recumbent forms of two dancers before being lifted by its corners to form a shallow roof over them. Smoke began to flow over its surface and hang there like a morning mist in a valley, thick and ominous before it was folded, crisply and tautly, ceremoniously, like the American flag is folded when a dead soldier returns home, while wailing voices mournfully rose in the soundscape, anguished, suppressed. A model of a small bird, a Blue Superb Fairy Wren, made by Ninian Donald, was illuminated by a single spotlight in the front corner of the stage.

It was rather otherworldly and spoke of the ‘now’,  the moment, but not this ‘now’, a different one, as the dancers moved in indescribable motions of arcs but with angles, flowing but sharp like circles with countless corners. The black cloth was twisted, knotted, and crushed into a crumpled rope before being held tightly by …............. cable ties. A hook was lowered from the ceiling and the contorted, disfigured, and brutally restrained form was raised and hung from it like at a public lynching.

The object was finally lowered and a lone dancer carefully and lovingly removed the constricting cable ties, gathered them up, and walked to the front of the stage before angrily throwing them to the ground at our feet, glaring defiantly at the audience. She took up the cloth and unwrapped it, spreading it like a blanket over the stage floor, tracing its edges with billows of smoke that bled through its porous surface in an action that spoke of healing, of repair, and love. The sides of the stage had been covered in draped cloth and she angrily tore the bases away, removing all barriers, constraints, and lies, revealing the ugly truth for all to see, the proscenium arch controlled by politics, media, and vested interests that direct and constrict our view of the world was smashed. The cloth was bundled up carefully, gently and she caressed and cradled it in her arms as one would a child, washing it and herself in wreaths of coiling smoke.

The performance was unrelentingly and unapologetically political, and while abstract and ephemeral in form, spoke loudly and clearly of the urgent need for change. The generously open hand that had been offered during the referendum that had been slapped unceremoniously and contemptuously away was now being drawn back and was slowly starting to form into a fist, not one of violence but rather one of steely determination and self-reliance.

I simply do not have the words to convey the intense power and integrity of this performance to a reader and must, therefore, urge you to see it for yourself. I was delighted to find that Elizabeth Cameron-Dalman, the founder of the company 59 years ago, was in the audience.

The fact that an artistic director has such confidence and trust in the artists in his company that he would all but hand over the reins to them for such a vitally important work is testament to the fact that the Australian Dance Theatre, Australia's oldest dance company, is one of the finest dance companies in the world.

Uncle Moogy explains why the Blue Superb Fairy Wren symbol appears, telling the Dreamtime story here.

Photography, Morgan Sette.