Each year when I see Fresh I wonder what the preoccupations of the up and coming choreographers will be.  This year in the performances I see themes emerging of exploring and claiming right relationship to self and others, and of having a personal and social voice.   Billed as thoughtful, compelling and fun, Fresh 2013 is an experience that delivers, with a level of sophistication.

Nga Whaiaipo o te Roto starts the night thoughtfully, with the simplicity of a soundscape and the two dancers, Sophie Williams and Mattie Hamuera placed at a distance from each other.  This distance is maintained throughout much of the dance as Hinemoa and Tutanekai journey towards their eventual tryst.  Their voices are heard through Mattie on taonga puoro and a gentle duet, sung live. There are elements of the modern and the traditional in the dancer’s movements particularly with their hands.   Patterns of movement echo and repeat as the longing for each other builds.  The final coming together is an energetic and enmeshing exploration before a final close embrace.  Throughout the piece, film of bush and lake changes the quality of the light, taking us into the night.  Use of korowai or cloaks asserts male and female, land and sea; once uncloaked revealing themselves to each other … thoughtful indeed.

Jahra Rager brings herself onto the stage and signals the changeover by gently handing Hinemoa (Sophie) her cloak.  Jahra’s solo 27 man / made / heaven is a contrast energetically.  Use of counting, not always in sequence, punctuates the piece. 9, 9 ,  9 1 1 – gunshots, how many?  This is an intense piece with the tension held by pace of movement, strong use of moody to manic eyes, and angular shapes of the body.  There is obvious distress, slow burning in squats and rolls and countered by shuddering, shivering and stretching.  Jahra counts in prose, 3, 9, 6, 7, 12 – voices won’t stop bullets. Her prose is echoed by Nina Simone singing ‘Strange Fruit’. Personal narrative or political statement; either is possible in this world of personal and political unrest, a compelling piece.

Any breath I am holding in is released with arrival of The Pacific Muse and the incongruous sight of three ‘white maidens’ swanning onto the stage, swaying with provocative hip movements. Presented as an intentional parody of colonisation, the maidens are dressed in tongue-in-cheek costumes of white leotards, leggings and white raffia skirts with large white flowers in their hair.  The donning of large corset-waisted petticoat hoops signals their ‘caging’.  Hoops sway in balletic motion, arms in civilised port de bras.  Reclaiming themselves at church tim,e the holy trinity of Dasha Tarasova, Karin Amituanai and Ashley Hunt Fidow ground their movements to the drum beat instead.  This is a piece with a light-hearted social voice.

As the Pacific Muses sashay off, another trio, Ellen Chitty, Grace Woollett and Jahra Rager, place themselves in a triangle pattern, heads down.  The initial moves are an interesting examination of shape with yoga influenced poses.  I experience a lack of development of the movement in this piece; however given the title Addicted to Distraction this may well be intentional!  The dancers leap, scurry and move in varying patterns of triangles always seeming to be preparing; preparing for what?  Maybe they are preparing for interaction, but no, back into independent movement, dancing competently all the while. As they slow down, connection begins and the dancers back off stage clutching their heads as the ‘boy’ arrives on stage.  

The final piece is simple and short as the fun finally arrives in the form of Simon Watts, minus the injured Andrew Cesan.  Humour, sleight of hands, impeccable rhythm that is rubbed from the hands to the feet with a large smile!  Street clothes and street entertainment par excellence.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer