Photo by Sarah Walker |
Last year, Andi Snelling had a bicycle accident; an hour
before, she somehow sensed it was going to happen. Deja Vu (And Other Forms of Knowing) is a response to that moment
and to all those moments in our lives where we only have intuition or
gut-feeling to go on.
Andi’s sold-out show at last year’s Melbourne Fringe, #DearDiary, delved into her past –
reading from diaries she has kept all her life. The show was text heavy, pulled
directly from her observations of the world around her – at whatever age she
was when she experienced them.
This new show is a much more difficult piece to pin down,
but no less memorable. We may have laughed at her teenage angst last year, but
this year we are grappling with present-day Andi and her attempts to understand
the ways we know things without truly understanding them.
The key to this piece is movement; Andi has such an
impressive control of her body. The opening scene has her writhing under a
swathe of black material, and then emerging from that cocoon. In a way, it’s a
recreation of the accident, with arms and legs unnaturally twisted and
outstretched.
As the show moves onward, we are treated to a music score
and soundscape that is unnerving, even as it samples a song like “Somewhere
Over the Rainbow” – which is usually so comforting. The recurrence of this song
communicates so much, without Andi ever saying a word. It’s odd but hilarious.
Every scene is visually striking, with Andi dressed and lit by
designer Victoria Haslam. Director Danielle Cresp is collaborating with Andi
again and they have such a strong working relationship; Cresp’s guiding hand allows
Andi to shine without this very personal show ever feeling indulgent.
If the show itself is about instinct, then so must an
audience trust their own instincts in reaction. There’s a delicious sequence
where Andi observes the audience, writing her thoughts on a small blackboard.
It captures so much about the interaction between an audience and performer,
without her having to vocalise a thing.
And movement, of course, is key to our everyday
communication and how we are able to sense things without really knowing them.
We can understand what Andi’s feeling because of the way she holds herself or
the way she withdraws from us or even, in moments, hangs as if suspended, like
a puppet on broken strings.
Deja Vu means “already seen” and while you might understand
what that phrase means, you’re unlikely to have already seen a show like Deja Vu (And Other Forms of Knowing).
Tickets on sale here.
Tickets on sale here.
Comments