Purcell Room, Southbank Centre, London
November 7, 2025
The programme promises ‘dance theatre.’ What unfolds is closer to an ecological fever dream. The evening begins with a short talk about Australia’s colonial history before dissolving into waves of cicada hum, mist and gold-tinted light.
From a nest of metallic roots, a body rolls out, genderless, faceless, half-formed, dressing itself in foamy gold layers until it becomes a two-legged creature. Soon there are two, then a four-legged hybrid, lurching and roaring under tropical thunder. The image is strange, perhaps even poetic, but a movement language never appears.
Whoever writes the publicity claims it ‘includes dance.’ I am not sure what they are watching, but it cannot be ANITO. I sit through the full hour with admirable patience, and the experience is… well, let’s just say it is something.
By the time the inflating ‘stones’ begin to breathe and swallow their performer, I stop expecting dance. The best choreography of the night belongs to the lighting designer: shafts of warm light cutting through haze like sunlight through jungle leaves, briefly transporting this damp London autumn back to the equator.