Tonight brings high-speed, propulsive, community driven theatre that sends shivers down your spine more akin to nightmares than sugary dreams. By calling his latest piece Theatre of Dreams, choreographer Hofesh Shechter ingeniously sets up and plants the idea of a liminal, flimsy space that needs no more explanation, as 90 minutes of movement draws us into an untethered world of bodies abstracted into clusters bringing to mind a rave night or the fervent folk dancing of my youth written into its cultural code.
In keeping with previous works, the Israeli-born choreographer, best known for Political Mother and Grand Finale, with Theatre of Dreams pulls you deep into the rhythm and energy of the performers with no narrative comfort as backup. It’s best just to go with the flow, as snapshot images swiftly move from collective gatherings to solo performances in the blink of an eye.
Such speed of movement, elevated by nifty scene changes, is impossible to register. It is a mystery how the dancers appear and disappear behind the dark curtains that operate as black, faceless towers. There is a brief opening, and we are confronted with the writhing cast of 13 dancers who appear to be at a warehouse trance night (I cast my mind back to Israel's Super Nova trance music festival tragedy of 7 October 2023), feeling the beat to their very core, then the curtain snaps shut and opens in a split second to reveal a single performer. There's joy and tragedy clubbing together in this show.
The stage is shaped by these dark curtains, layer upon layer. Curtains open to reveal a tangle of dancers entwined into tableau formations only to dissolve into the background as if a figment of our imagination. There are fragmented shards of movement, not whole sequences, so it feels like the speed of a dream. The cast stamp, tumble into each other then jerk as if electrocuted, all appearing to be swept into a wave of sound rippling through the flesh, fists shaking and then full-body protestations as each dancer finds a self-expressive journey.
The dancers are arresting to watch. It takes a while to fully comprehend the little details outside of the clubby, pumping moves before you appreciate the finesse and depth of choreography. There are some familiar actions recognisable from Shechter's earlier works: the flicking hands that make the dancers look like trapped birds and the gyrating, swinging hips. He brings bodies together in a towering mess of limbs twisted and arms stretched out, only to spill out into smaller groupings across the stage, releasing dancers from captivity like caged animals.
Deep into this surreal performance, a crimson-coated cabaret band appears out of nowhere like a hallucination. There’s also anxiety fuelled imagery, such as naked dancing, as if the performer has somehow been caught red-handed in a subconscious hell. But it could mean something else altogether. This is beauty of this piece. It allows the audience to fill the void, and this will be a different experience for each viewer. There’s also the floating, soft poetry of Molly Drake’s "I Remember", replacing the thumping, clubby repetitive beats of Shechter’s own soundtrack.
This is a shared community of movement. At one point, the houselights are turned on and we are beckoned out of our seats to sway and pulsate alongside the dancers. Personally, it’s a relief to be given the space to move and participate in some of the joy of expression the dancers are experiencing onstage. It’s also a strange exercise, as we gaze at the dancers for cues and they look right back at us, encouraging us to move.
Israeli folk dancing is carved into the roots of Shechter’s choreography, and, on occasion, the outpouring of connected flow between the dancers feels like we’ve opened the door to an evening of spiritually zealous worship wrapped in physical expression. It’s non-stop, probing, electrifying, all-consuming viewing, and I should imagine each performance is a unique journey all of its own depending on the crowd and atmosphere on the night.