It is autumn equinox. Night and day of equal length. The battle between two perfectly matched forces. Balance must be maintained. It may be chance, but what apposite timing for the opening night of Futago/Twins, an ambitious and strangely stirring production.

This is just the sort of experimental, risk-taking theatre that many associate with Fringe. It plunges deeply into ritual and symbol, eschewing language for strange sounds made by voice and musical instrument, and exploring different ways of moving and interacting. Futago means Twins in Japanese, and there is a Japanese flavour to this, from certain Noh features of the staging, to the ceremonial robing in ravishing embroidered kimonos. 

The venue is the foyer of Dunedin’s gorgeous Victorian-Gothic Railway Station, which allows the company to manipulate the actor/audience relationship with traverse seating. The spectators face each other on cushions arranged on the marble mosaic floor; the performers kneel on orange mats between them. Both are lit.

A woman in green robes tumbles onto the stage like a helpless newborn infant. Two animal-like creatures, in black clothes with black markings disguising their faces, investigate her, and then guide her first awkward steps. The movements have a bizarre, improvised, almost awkward aspect.

A second green-robed figure descends the staircase, perhaps from the heavens, branches fastened like wings to her arms. She appears more finished, more powerful, than the first, and the attendant creatures are controlled by her as if they are servants or familiar spirits. The first woman is drawn to her, and a series of exploratory encounters ensues. Sometimes these are playful, with an erotic undercurrent, and sometimes threatening, as the ‘twins’ whirl and thrash and leap and spin, attacking each other in wild demented dancing.

High above, on the gallery that runs above the foyer, other black-clad figures watch both players and spectators like a chorus, sometimes intervening by lowering a long bamboo tube, grapes on a fishing line, or a delicate cage. They are quietly absorbed, and there is a sense that all the performers are strongly committed to this partly group-devised work.

Futago/Twins is based on an old story or myth but, in ritual, narrative is less important than the creation of an emotional response. In this the performers succeed, chiefly because the two lead dancers, Hana Aoake and Kajsa Louw, each have a charismatic quality that makes them hypnotically watchable.

Many passages in the performance require fierce concentration, almost, dare I say, possession, and The Theatre As Is have the courage to take up the challenge.
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