Review: PRIVATE VIEW - ADELAIDE FESTIVAL 2024 at Odeon Theatre

Reviewed by Ray Smith, Wednesday 6th March 2024.

It was with a sense of excitement and gratitude that I entered the Odeon Theatre to witness Restless Dance Company's Adelaide Festival offering, Private View, as the company is one of my favourite dance troupes and this particular show had been selling out at remarkable speed.

There were warnings aplenty in the show's blurb, informing prospective punters that latecomers would not be admitted as this was an immersive performance, and that the performance contained sexual references, nudity and theatrical haze. I arrived dutifully early and steeled myself emotionally for what was to come.

Restless Dance Company is well known for its innovative approach to dance performance and artistic director, Michelle Ryan, rarely thinks inside the box. Her previous shows with this extraordinary company have left me in fits of laughter, pools of tears, reeling with sensory overload, and a general feeling of bewildered delight, but I still was not prepared for the courageous and intimate performance that I was about to be allowed to bear witness to.

As is customary in Australia, there was an Acknowledgement of Country before the show began, and I was once again reminded of one of the many points of difference that set this company apart from other arts organisations in its overt and deeply held respect for ‘the other’. “Restless acknowledges the family clans of the Kaurna Nation and we shall walk softly and with respect as we feel the footprints of their ancestors” the acknowledgement concluded, a beautifully worded nod from one dance culture to another.

Perhaps the most obvious point of difference between this company and others is that it is “Australia’s leading creator of dance theatre by dancers with and without disability”, and that inclusiveness goes beyond the stage and reaches out into the audience, blurring the lines between performer and punter in such profound ways as to leave audience members feeling wholly part of and integral to the event.

As we entered the performance space we found it littered with small stools and surrounded by four small stages, a soundscape of string swells, and snatches of indiscernible conversations filled the air, as a giant pair of eyes, projected onto a gauze-like screen, watched our every move as we settled into our seats.

We could see voyeuristically the dim silhouette of a young woman dressing through a translucent screen that formed the back of one of the stages, and after carefully fastening the buckles of her shoes she emerged and walked straight through the audience as if we were not there. Had we really sat silently, shamelessly transfixed as, unaware of our gaze, she had performed the personal act of dressing?

Enter Carla Lippis.

This astonishing woman, dressed as one might imagine a cabaret singer in a Parisian nightclub, weaved her way nonchalantly through the audience, a handheld torch lighting her face, with all the devil may care self-assuredness of, well, a cabaret singer in a Parisian nightclub, and, with the deferential assistance of dancer Rowan Rossi, climbed part way up a small staircase, and began to sing.

Her voice was rich, resonant and throaty as she sang of love, in the language of love, French.
Allusion complete. At the conclusion of her song, she pulled back the gauze curtain that had held the giant projection of, as we could now see, her eyes, to reveal a simple scene of a table and two chairs, a small bureau, and the familiar figure of Restless dancer Michael Hodyl.

Hodyl placed three candles on the table and lit them, before adding a single rose to the arrangement, put a record onto the turntable on the small bureau, and began to dance as only Michael Hodyl can dance. He then sat at the table and began to write, his words appearing on a screen behind him, and told us of his romantic nature, his love of French restaurants and French wine, his concept of what love is, and his idea of the most perfect date. It was a confession of his most intimate fantasies, the sort of confession one would only make to the closest of friends, and yet here we were, looking into the deepest crevices of this man's mind. It was charming but rather chilling when the fantasy appeared to dissolve into despair, the rose dropped to the floor and the candles extinguished.

The next stage was surrounded by Venetian blinds and we could just make out through them the forms of two young women partying hard in what appeared to be a bedroom, drinks in hand, rolling on the bed, taking very candid photographs, and generally having an unabashed good time.

Lippis joined the scene, facilitating the action, encouraging the young women, egging them on to more and more outrageous behaviour, before suddenly leaving with one of them, leaving the other destitute. The lone figure picked up the telephone and called what appeared to be a helpline of some sort, as Lippis materialised in the audience, a ringing telephone in her hand. A series of questions were asked and Lippis would hand the receiver to an audience member to answer the question.

“What does it feel like to be heartbroken?”

“What does a testicle look like?”

“Have you heard of the sexy internet?”

I'm afraid that it was your correspondent that was handed the telephone to answer that last question dear reader, and my answer shall forever remain unknown to all save those few who were present at the time.

There was more, so much more, from lonely, defenceless and literally naked despair, to sexting teens joyfully exploring their newfound sexuality despite an overprotective parent desperately trying to stop them.

Throughout it all, Lippis's voice rose and fell, woven beautifully into Geoffrey Crowther's superb score, emphasising the giddy highs and desperate lows of the human condition revealed in all its unwashed complexity, all the while her choreographed movements supported the other dancers flawlessly in a stunning performance.

Matthew Adey's lighting coupled with Renate Henschke's design brought a surreal aspect to the set that allowed us to gaze undetected through the haze of secrecy of the most intimate of inner voices.

The dancers were; Michael Hodyl, Jianna Georgiou, Madeline Macera, Darcy Carpenter, Charlie Wilkins, Bonnie Williams and Rowan Rossi.

Once again Restless Dance Company have left me reeling in an emotional whirlwind, this time of secrets laid bare to the tainted, voyeuristic gaze. The production was so immersive that I almost feel able to add, “Performed with Restless Dance Company” to my resume.

This is another massive hit for Michelle Ryan and her company to add to the list.

Photography, Matt Byrne.

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