By Jennifer Beasley
The beauty of theatre is the discovery of art forms that challenge your perceptions. Dredge, an electrifying performance piece, delves into the natural world and segways into a physical and emotional discourse on consumerism and patriarchy. Developed and directed by Brandon Armstrong, who runs Femmural productions, and with the support of The Anchor Theatre and workshopped by The National Drama School, this dance/acted piece crackles with a visceral physicality, brilliantly supported by the soulful music of Jack Burmeister (the producer of The Theatre of Others Podcast, which is in the top 5% of podcasts globally), arresting lighting for tone and scene changes from Tom Vulcan and masterful dramaturgy by Rosa Ablett Johnson, who is also in the cast.
It begins with eight dances seated on the ground around a stepped square podium, reminiscent of Le Corbusier’s heavy, monolithic designs, which reflects the criticisms of modern architecture and humanities indifference to the natural world. Kudos here to the set designers, Maggie Filor and Luke Slade, as the blocky central slab anchored the set, and clever use of lighting and water pooled in the central pit provides visual contrast to the constructed and natural. It is not until later in the piece that you realise that there is mud at the base of the pool. This mud, dredged up from the bottom, becomes an actor in it’s own right, splattering the white backdrops as metaphors of purity and loss and the promise of salvation.
The dancers (Luke Slade, Rosa Ablett Johnstone, Hyacinth Makka, River Stevens, Ozzy Breen-Carr, Jessica Pasco, Maggie Vali and Maggie Filor) move organically to the thrumming tempo, their chorography both beautiful and challenging. I was particularly moved by the grace of the static poses at the start, and the humorous fifties step dance that interspersed the consumerism segment. Chorographer Jessica Pasco’s movements, in conjunction with the snappy direction and organic production meant that there was no time checking for an ending here!
The dancers evolved throughout the performance, raising the tension as you are dragged into their plight; from the peace of the embryonic beginning, water caresses the emerging forms, only to be shaken off as the dancers spin out into monologues of materialism, lust and love. Pulled back to form by some funky dance music their greed leads to degeneration as they lose their unity, de-evolving into a patriarchal system. This segment grabs at the audience. Violence, shame and male superiority hoard the central block, and the male dancers use of the water as a symbol of control sent shivers down my spine. However, there were some extended moments that could have been eased back, if only to allow the audience to breath. I would also advise not to sit in the front row if you don’t want to get wet.
Frenetic dance combinations underscore the individuals need to escape the self-perpetuating treadmill of nothingness, until ultimately the dances are drawn back to the pool, back to the primal mud from which they came. Sprinkled by rain from above, they are renewed, once again as one, with all the peace and playfulness of a child.
The a cappella in the final scene is tinged with reverence. A love song to life, beauty and nature it both grounds and wraps up the performance, the notes soaring towards the ray of light bathing the slab, a promise of better things.
This fifty-minute performance certainly asks some hard questions. It is a meditation on the franticness of our lives, the treadmill of consumerism, and the patriarchal viewpoint that is so at odds with the natural world, when our purpose in our lives might be better directed towards the natural world where we can learn a ‘balanced reciprocity’.
