AMPLIFICATION: CRASH BANG THEORY

                                                 Jeff Busby

Inside the Beckett theatre it is the ultra-violet hue of high intensity discharge lighting that establishes the repertoire of Amplification. It prompts an aura of sterility that is consistent with an operating theatre, or a morgue. A man inserts himself into the rampant of this performance. He props behind a trestle sustaining a metonymy of sound equipment. Hovering above his head in what appears to be an embellishment of organ pipes are instead, several perpendicular incandescent bulbs. Before composer Lynton Carr shuffles his turntable, this integration of light for the purpose of accentuating sound is an effective strategy for communicating the catastrophic moment that comprises a car accident. To reside in a world suddenly thwarted by chaos and confusion, then regain consciousness in the alien atmosphere of a hospital ward, is to be ejected from the trite conviviality of daily routine. Time and space have been amplified as the experience of collision indemnifies the body against psychic and physiological trauma. Life will never be the same again. One minute will feel like seven years.

Carr cranks his turntable into life and the sonics of his scratch and rap evoke a peculiar awareness of the present entrapped by the past. His design is a recognisable if not familiar hybrid of live performance and material sampled from a variety of disparate sources. Traffic exacerbates past a bystander on a freeway and advertising jingles are procured from defunct transistors as the moment of collision is evoked and four dancers appear from discrete entrances. Identically dressed in grey uniforms, their choreography ruminates upon the disagreeable meeting between the body and the point of impact. A disciplined and impressive oeuvre of movement ensues. Arms and legs appear as if vertically detached from sockets and the penetration of flesh by metal is an eroticism reflected in Carr’s frenetic mix of sound. Immediately, there occurs a suspicion that Amplification has accelerated too early. This suspicion is further substantiated by a choreography that celebrates formal virtuosity while relegating emotion, narrative and dramatic conflict to the proverbial scrapheap. Above all, this same celebration is entirely consistent with the aforementioned awareness of the present somehow being ensnared by the past. Pre-millenium formalism was a twentieth century preoccupation that accompanied the so-called ‘triumph of capitalism’. In 2011, its awkward and uncomfortable presence is a reminder that the sancity of form over all else has also been relegated to the past.

The frenetic opening of Amplification subsides and is replaced by a subdued, reflective mood. Whether post-accident or post-coital it is also an opportunity for the performers to engage in intimate relations. One performer lies prostrate on the floor. He could be dead or dying but it is more likely that he dreams of an identity stolen by the consequences of a car accident. Black hoods are placed over the heads of two separate and unsuspecting dancers. Their captor drags each off-stage and the performance fades to a sustained blackout. Here, it becomes increasingly difficult to ascertain the exact trajectory of Amplification. Its choreography is so enraptured by self-importance that the rhythmical structure of the overall performance is neglected. Consequently, when the dancers return their movement is again executed with confidence and precision. However, the sequence of scenes that ensue is confused and ineffective. Horizontal lengths of string attached to concealed model cars are pulled across stage by the performers. But this quirky attempt at instilling the performance with a narrative leaves a less than favourable impression. A ritualistic burial occurs, during which two performers are carefully wrapped in white sheets overlaid by orange tarpuallins. Once again, the movement is careful and precise. But so much time is taken up in completing a task that is readily definable from its outset that it becomes difficult not to conclude that Amplification has lost the capacity to convey the complexity of trauma. Instead, what the audience is left to contemplate is unfortunately, mere padding. This fault could be attributed to the fact that Amplification has lost some of its impact since its first incarnation in 1999. But this does not take into account that the performance itself is structurally unsound. Vascillating between a desire for narrative and the obtuse beauty of abstract dance, it achieves neither. Some ground is recovered during a later scene as a male dancer is eased into a box by three female dancers while using only their feet. But once again, this implied gender battle is subsumed by an action that is nothing more than cleverness for its own sake. Thoughtful and imaginative production values aside, Amplification is an unsatisfying night in the theatre.

Amplification: Choreographer: Phillip Adams, Composer/ Turntablist: Lynton Carr, Set & Lighting Design: Bluebottle, Costume Design: Graham Green, Performers: Timothy Harvey, Rennie McDougall, Carlee Mellow, Brooke Stamp & Joanne White, Dance Massive, Malthouse, March 22 – 26, Melb.