Nikki Rummer in Unbroken

Jacksons Lane, London
February 20, 2024

Nikki Rummer’s debut one woman show, Unbroken, returns as part of the Nikki and JD festival, after its initial creation in 2021. Rummer is the powerhouse behind an understated amalgamation of physical theatre, acrobatics and dance. Laying the groundwork: a festive family gathering and a surfacing secret.

A string of chairs faces us, each labelled with a family member’s name, and to whom we are genially introduced. Rummer is immediately and irrevocably likeable as she bounces between each, telling us from where she inherited everything, from feelings of doom to dimples.

It is these same chairs that later host, invisibly of course, Jesus and his disciples in The Last Supper. Rummer snakes slow motion along the chairs, over, under and around, pausing to mould her hands into the gestures seen in each character within the painting. The biblical narrative of Judas is retrieved again and again throughout the show, the Judas who betrayed Jesus by disclosing his whereabouts. Cue Dante’s layers of hell, ultimate sin, and the dark family secret of which we soon learn, another form of sin.

The show fuses artforms, though none seem more prominent than the other. Rummer elegantly ensures that they do not elbow each other out of the way for their turn, as often seen in multidisciplinary work, where dialogue is followed by a definite sense of, ‘OK, I’m going to dance now’. Credit is due to Rummers naturalistic storytelling, acting that doesn’t feel like performance, and subtle blending of expressions. She melts from standing and speaking, to the floor and upside down in one seamless, unrushed motion.

Rummer also has an immensely tender way of transitioning into a new moment, be it dialogue or movement. A change is anticipated from a slight flicker across her face, a shift of gaze, although we can never be sure if she is about to dance or flip backwards, laugh out loud or crumble in tears, which makes for a show impossible to peel your eyes from. Most touching are the quiet moments: Rummer clinging to her father, or his chair, with back to the audience and one foot hanging limp.

Spun into the works are Dr Suess and Mary Oliver, referred to using anecdotal nuggets of her family history. We are taken everywhere, and yet never depart from Rummer in the here and now, carrying what remains after many years passed. In one movement, she creates the shape of clock hands with her legs, a cartwheel on the spot, that simultaneously slows in speed and grows in size with every repetition, as if to show time passing. Or not. Either way, I am very aware of how much time she is spending upside down in sustained handstands.

Towards the end, as the secret is revealed, Rummer begins a haunting finale of movement to Depeche Mode’s dark and gothic ‘Personal Jesus’, chugging with synths. Considering the context, this track feels chillingly abrasive. The smooth, thick and controlled movement that held our breathe before now frays with rage and despair. Rummer’s training in capoeira is evident; she spins, flips and spirals between low crouches and high legs, reminiscent of its combat origins.

Unbroken is a brutal, brave exposure of something deeply personal. We experience it as story unfinished and too late to repair all the same. Rummer continues to perform her show with no less physical and emotional investment as when it premiered, sharing a story, navigating its implications and soothing wounds through motion.