Review: Manifesto is striking, but falls short of realising its full potential
Choreographed by Stephanie Lake, composed by Robin Fox
Review by Brayden Kennedy and Maddy Backen
As the curtain opened on Manifesto, a welcoming glow of light, colour and playful smiles from the 18 performers on the stage invited us in. Nine dancers, and nine drummers, all seated upon their respective thrones, ready to entertain. Manifesto was a great showcase of talent with fantastic production value, but we expected more than just entertainment for a dance work of this calibre.
The set design by Charles David drew influence from 1930s big band style stages: drumkits standing on a tiered bridge curving around the theatre, the platforms and backdrop draped in luxurious red fabric. Dancers matched the half-circle formation, sitting on dark chairs in wonderfully designed costumes by Paula Levis, contributing to the aesthetic of playful elegance. The outfits were primarily white, with black accents resembling suspenders – the first nod to a clown-like motif that occurred throughout the performance. The performers’ comedic, pensive scanning of the audience reinforced this feeling of being in a circus, inside a ring of wonders.
The first drum strike was a startling burst of energy that caught the audience and dancers alike off-guard, prompting giggles from throughout the stalls. Right from the start, there was a deep synergy between sound and movement in this piece – an interconnectedness with the right amount of variety to keep us wanting more. The metaphorical "reins" were passed seamlessly between drummer and dancer, as movement and sound took turns as puppet and master.
Robin Fox’s composition came to life with unique instrumentation beyond what you’d expect from an orchestra of drumkits – they build an ingenious soundscape for the dancers to interact with. The lighting design by Bosco Shaw is integrated well, with overhead lights and illuminated kickdrums shifting to each accent with flawless execution.
The innovative construction of these elements in the show’s opening was a breath of fresh air, laying what should have been a strong foundation for this “tattoo to optimism”. Unfortunately, the piece's content took too long to build upon this and became stagnant at times.
The choreography from Stephanie Lake wasn’t pinned to obvious motifs, instead allowing the individual style and personality of the dancers to shine through. While unique flair and variation are visually engaging, the limited use of consistent shapes and movements detracted from the broader vision of harmony. At times the movement swayed into balletic sequences and complex floor work, which didn’t always leverage the ability of dance to communicate a more poignant message or catch us off guard with emotions we weren’t expecting to feel.
The final sections started to reach Manifesto’s potential – accelerating from a solo performed by Marni Green, who brought light and shade by rapidly shifting pace and dynamics. Frantic movements were interrupted by commanding and powerful freeze frames that momentarily brought everything to a halt, before being consumed again by desperation.
From this point onwards, there was a greater depth to the performance’s concept. The regimented military drumline was juxtaposed with mischievous movement, seemingly mocking the rigid structure of authority with a sense of rebellious joy. It started to ask us: is optimism enough to pull us from our isolation? What will it take to achieve the solidarity we need as a society to recover? What has led us here, and will that ever change? These questions culminated in a fantastic climax, an explosion of movement… and chairs! Unfortunately, this was reached too late in the piece.
The name “Manifesto” brings lofty expectations and an assumption that a declaration of ideals and motives should have taken place in this dance work. While it was inventive, fun and playful, Manifesto is overly reliant on its concept, restricting its ability to realise the potential of a promising vision.
Manifesto played at Carriageworks from 12 - 15 January as part of Sydney Festival 2023.
Find more information here.
Collage by Ceridwen Bush, production images by Sam Roberts
Brayden is a corporate bank man by day who transforms into an all-encompassing art, dance, music, and theatre bean at night. This bio was transcribed by Brayden while he was being spoon-fed pasta in bed by one of his partners who was also telling him what to write.
Maddy loves to overthink things, so she started writing a much longer bio over the course of a few days before realising that only a couple of sentences were required. She is an amazing dancer (at least her housemates think so) and between performance jobs, she works in hospo to get the numbers of cute people who come to her bar.
This review has been generously donated by Brayden and Maddy.
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