Lemi Ponifasio/MAU. Photo Courtesy of MAU

Black and White

Although a program note points out that the evening is a preview of a work in progress (the premiere is scheduled for December 2013), there were no rough edges to be detected.

It is an evening exemplifying the power of simplicity in production and sound design. Black and white are the dominant colors, with only the climax of the performance containing contrasting red.

Here, a nude woman with red paint splattered cross shaped on the fair skin of her frail frame, walks forward and lays down on the edge of the stage. Another woman appears, chanting violently in the Maori language: she scatters red powder, which falls to the ground gently and quietly. As this “priestess” leaves, the nude woman rises and walks toward a thin strip of light center stage. She pauses to lean with all her might against an invisible barrier made up of the pounding sound score by Sam Hamilton and Lemi Ponifasio. She walks on to make herself fit into the narrow line of existence that is the light strip on the stage, her backside facing the audience. She begins to struggle with the sound getting progressively louder, banging, scraping to the point of great discomfort for the eardrums. The lights fade, the struggle ends - not soon enough. Viewers are left feeling beaten by the humility and hopelessness this woman just experienced.

Recomposition

She is followed (and immediately redeemed) by another performer standing where the “victim” just laid a minute ago. Her eyes are wide open, her pupils surrounded by the white of the eyeball. Her long wavy black hair lays untamed on her shoulders. She has her eyes set on something high above our heads as she begins to chant her “Moteatea” (song), to shriek and finally scream the words from the bottom of her soul. I look up, too, and begin to notice the imperfections of the old theatre auditorium--the cracks in the walls, the paint chips. Did this woman just cause these? It seems entirely possible, judging by the sheer superhuman power radiating from her chore. Is she trying to recompose the order of the universe with her anger? Whether she succeeds or not, it is her vehement determination to try that moves me.

Human Calligraphy

An essential part of Ponifasio’s theatricality is the integration of traditional Maori dance: the shimmer of the hands mimicking the shimmer of hot air, which in Maori culture is believed to be the place of origin for dance. The woman’s dance called "poi" uses sets of balls attached to strings which are swung through the air. They act a refrain, holding together the composition of scenes in “Stones in Her Mouth.”

Through the majority of the piece, the ten women are clad in floor-length black skirts and tight black shirts: one could almost never see their bare feet. The Geisha-like walk adds to the effect of floating through thin air. The women’s shadows are often cast on the grey scrim (lighting design by Helen Todd) aided every now and then by flickering projections, adding depth and height to the scene.

The movement vocabulary is diverse but simple: the performers seem to be writing calligraphy in the air softly with their wrists, other times the movement is sharp--with urgency, they thrust their hands up in the air, tilt their heads back to appear as headless black creatures, or cover their faces in disguise.

Raw Emotion

The most resonant moment of the piece has all ten women on stage staggered in two lines. They walk backward, slowly raising their hands up high. In defeat? Tears begin to glimmer on the cheeks of one woman's face--the “priestess” from earlier--her right hand is still orange from the residue of the red powder. They all kneel one by one, disappearing into the darkness as they put their foreheads on the ground. Ponifasio does not chose this to be the end--we see the group on their feet again, in unison standing strong.

The narrative of the piece is well composed by Ponifasio as his company takes us through the trials of what it means to be a woman (the program notes the Maori believe that the first human was a woman), challenging silence and oppression embodied here in darkness and the deafening volume of the sound score.

The Samoan choreographer dazzles with clarity of intention and a deep devotion to dance theatre as a craft rooted in our individual DNA and indigenous to imagination. The latter, as he once put it, holds the key to creating a new and better condition for ourselves.

"Stones in Her Mouth" runs through September 29 at The Palace Theatre (630 S Broadway, Los Angeles). Tickets are $15-$25. For more information, visit the Radar LA website.

More coverage of the Radar LA Festival can be found here.

You can contact Wiebke via email or follow her on Twitter. Read more by Wiebke on the blog The Ballet Bag.