Review – ‘6’ and ‘7’

Tao Ye’s latest dance works, ‘6’ and ‘7’ have tried like twins to distinguish themselves from each other. The first six dancers moved across the stage in pulsating darkness to eerie, hypnotic music. The second seven danced in white in utter silence until they began to make noises that were halfway between a mosquito and a Gregorian chant. Smoke and mirrors aside, they were still almost identical. Both made an art form out of synchronised body rolls, bowing and hair flicks. Both required extreme feats of memory, agility and control. Both left me feeling – just a whole lot of feeling, really.

Not that the dancers did anything particularly emotive – no smiles, no looks of anguish – just repetitive motions leaving your mind to wander. I found myself on a roller-coaster of emotions accompanied by endless products of my imagination from the scene before me; ancient tribes, puppets, an army, a plague, a snake, a nation. At one point I even blurred my eyes to see what would happen and I saw a disfigured body crawling across the stage. All that brain manipulation without one step wrong – I’ll admit, I was impressed.

I was impressed only in hindsight. At the time, all I could focus on was the irritating soundtrack that intermittently featured the sound of a truck reversing. Either that or wishing their feet would start to move or somebody would turn the lights up. When they finally did turn the lights up, the mosquito noise had me swatting the air. My lack of appreciation left me feeling very uncultured. My unrefined palette reminded me of oysters or caviar – fancy with an interesting aftertaste – so treat it as such, just try it and see.