Two richly developed productions from the closing weekend of Tempo 2014 leave memorable images behind them. Presented in Q Loft, both have had thorough attention given to every element they make use of, and both have charismatic performers who keep the audience attention on them at all times.

Beyond these factors, Tassel Me This and eye could not be more different from one another.

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A sharp whistle draws your attention to the front of the auditorium and then a short welcome inviting the audience down to the bar afterwards creates a warm and buzzing atmosphere before the doors have even opened. When they do, we are greeted with the spectacular live music talents of Jason Wright, sitting amongst his instruments and technical equipment. In contrast, a mound of sand sits in the middle of the stage and there is something soothing about how the two worlds are related. 

and sits in the middle of the stage and there is something soothing about how the two worlds are related.

An ethereal red glow starts to grow on the top most part of the sand and we see the slightest of movements as the sand starts to ‘breathe’.  One of the greatest openings I have seen in a show this year, Luke Hanna convulses his body, scuttles across the stage, and shows the greatest amount of physical anguish I have ever witnessed. It was truly breath taking.

The strongest lighting state is that of a thin beam of light representative of a crack in a doorway. At this moment, Hanna completely shifts as a performer and you witness raw emotion, perhaps a childhood memory? What are his eyes seeing? He is simultaneously eye and I. 

The relationship between Hanna and Wright is strong and with well-constructed interaction. Walking in his footsteps and acknowledging his presence on stage are two are my favourite moments. eye has really hit the nail on the head with having a live musician on stage.

As always, there needs to be a brief relief period for the audience and Hanna tackles this perfectly as a dance through the decades with his beautiful mane of hair adding to the choreography. Afterwards Hanna dances with just a single light bulb held in front of his face and this part is truly mesmerizing. His agility as a dancer and his ability to contrast between fluidity and rigidity are mindboggling as he moves effortlessly across the stage. At one point, his entire body becomes a vibrating entity and I can only describe it as stunning. Hanna is undeniably a strong performer with prodigious training.

Coming from the earth – eye shows us who we are. On a somewhat disconnected journey, is everything as connected as we hoped? Are we still those people from the earth?

“Eyes may see, may hear, may feel.

May not” 

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It’s rare to have an already well-established artist premiere a work at a fringe festival. Fringe is usually, (but not exclusively) a club for the newbies, the aspirers, the let’s-make-a-show-about-cross-dressing-goats-in-our-backyard experimentalists.  So I was surprised to see Luke Hanna, a firmly embedded fixture of the Australia-New Zealand contemporary dance scene, making his choreographic debut at this year’s NZ Fringe Festival.  He’s danced with Black Grace, Australian Dance Theatre, Dancenorth and Rifleman Productions, and will be performing in Ross McCormack’s AGE in that “other” arts festival.  I don’t think there are many performers who have performed in an international and fringe festival in the same year.

Like its choreographer, ‘eye’, is a melding of professional, matured concepts and style with the cobbled-together features that define a fringe show.

In a low-key, worn hall at the back of Wesley Church on Taranaki Street, we’re welcomed into a dark space with household lamps serving as house lights and random plastic hall chairs, armchairs, couches, and pillows as seating.  A bit of light jazz plays in the background.  (Nice touch.)

We aren’t left waiting long before it starts; music droning from a small, well-equipped, live sound board (courtesy of musician Jason Wright), Hanna emerging from a pile of sand in slow, twisted movements, gasping like a primordial swamp-thing from the depths.  He takes his time in establishing the space, taking a good 10 minutes or so to get to a barely standing position; a different, if not brave, choice from the usual performance style in NZ, where subtlety often lacks and powerhouse movement reigns.

In evolutionary fashion, we watch Hanna’s character emerge, find his clothing, learn to put his pants on one leg at a time as we all (presumably) do, find his voice,  find his physicality, find his bearings, and increase his tempo.  After taking a severe beating from himself, he takes several moments to check out the audience.  We’re not sure what he’s looking for.

It’s here that the music, as well as musician, commands the stage while Hanna meditates on his pile of sand.  A looped guitar solo creates a lull after the barking madness before it.  It’s rounded off nicely by an interaction between musician and dancer… a touching gesture of Wright offering Hanna the shirt off his back.

A section of movement follows, and though the relaxed/strong style that is Hanna’s own is interesting, there’s a fear it will now turn into a typical “dancey” show.  Thankfully, this artist is smart enough to know when to stop.  Instead of continuing with what could be beautiful, but lacking in substance, he morphs the character into an awkward playboy… offering himself to the audience like a young model on his first photo shoot.  He follows with an air guitar/lip-syncing/disco/crumping/popping/clubbing montage (complete with jazz hands) that is skilful, playful, and hilarious.  A bare light bulb in play as a microphone casts long and crazy shadows across the space.  He continues his slick playboy impersonation as he enters the audience, has a bit of a chat up, and finally returns to the stage space to charm the pants off Wright; literally.

The character morphs a final time into a pseudo-intellectual, complete with black-rim glasses.  A piece of spoken word poetry is intertwined, and though I still maintain dancers should never open their mouths to speak on stage, it was delivered passably and created a definite end point.  The whole crew joins Hanna and Wright on stage for a bow.  (Another nice touch.)

In the end, it was those small touches that made ‘eye’ an enjoyable, nuanced experience; the low-key lighting, the background music as we entered and exited, the cobbled seating block, the decision to not overdo the work, to keep it simple, to let the evolving characters inhabit the body and project onto the audience rather press onto them.  And the invitation to stay, to chat, and to eat with cast and crew was lovely.

Go for a polished piece of visually, aurally, and conceptually interesting piece of work. Stay for a cookie and a chat.

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