Luther’s friend, Indira, is getting married. She has asked Luther to perform. Luther is an Elvis impersonator. It is one of the few things that will get him out of his home. He has a date, only for the wedding, with woman named Flossie. He’s nervous about it but settles on it being just for the wedding.
Luther has some issues. His brain does not function like everyone else's. His reality is sometimes fluid and sometimes disjointed. Routine and the familiar give him comfort. He feels threatened(?), unsettled(?), vulnerable(?) when he is out of his flat. But his father continues to motivate him or push him to venture out every day. And he is very grateful for that.
He knows that he is different, which puts him in a better position than many that he observes around him. Whatever makes him different also makes him special. There are many rooms in this castle. He finds that tango is another world in his life, another language. It gives him comfort and security. But it takes him to another place. There is the here and now of reality and there are the other places. He know the differences.
And he is damaged. Luther tells of a time in his childhood when he was labouring over a letter to a classmate, Elizabeth. His very maniacal bully of a teacher, Mr. Savage, found the letter, read it out loud. "I think you are pretty and I would like to hold your hand." The sweet letter of a child. But Mr. Savage screamed at him that he hoped Luther’s granny was dead. Luther tell of this savagery in such detail because he knows, as an adult, how much it damaged him.
It might be the battle of nature over nurture, but we damage people in our lives, especially children. They are impacted in ways we do not know and the effects may not surface for years.
King is as much dance and movement as it is language. Kinevane moves fluidly from one state of reality to another, whether dancing or mopping the floor. Kinevane reveals the cruelties of the world through Luther's unique and endless observations. It is mesmerizing and it is frightening.