Dancehall Blues

Two figures. Dim light illuminating full hazmat suits. An urgent thudding baseline. Early dancehall film footage, all happy innocence and promise, evolves into something more sinister (Neil O’Driscoll). Collapsing streets. Riot police. The figures march forwards to confront us. And into this disturbing setting, like a ray of hope, a mirrorball swoops down from the ceiling. Initially, the dancers circumvent it. Then seem to weaponise it, hurling it at each other. But then they discover a sweeter, more tender life, lurking under the protective shell. And we find ourselves in a dancehall.

‘Dancehall Blues’ from Dublin-based Cois-Céim Dance explores the role of dance and movement in the face of chaos. David Bolger‘s choreography sees Emily Kilkenny Roddy and Alex O’Neill move alternately with a taut, angular 1984-worthy menace and then with lyrical grace that’s full of longing. The soundtrack (Ivan Birthistle) flits from haunting choral melodies composed by Pergolesi nearly three centuries ago to Carla Bruni to Jacques Brel’s “Ne Me Quitte Pas” – a call to arms to keep hold of our humanity amidst the chaos. The elaborate composition explores the nature of human resistance and underscores the encroaching threat from the outside world.

Precision lighting (John Gunning) means the dancers are always visible, despite the gloom. Sharp shards of light bounce off the discombobulating mirrorball and make the murk sparkle. Watch out for a magical mirror that will leave you wondering what is real and what is only the product of this twilight fever dream. Costume (Arran Murphy) effectively contrasts the calamity outside with the gentler, more optimistic world within – but which is real? Whether or not you find hope amongst the riot shields, there is unquestionably abundant beauty in this chaos.