Immersion, though increasingly popular, is always a risky tactic. Audiences can be unpredictable, and if giving their spectators the freedom to move around, companies need to think seriously about what exactly that might entail. This becomes more and more of a problem for Scottish Dance Theatre’s new piece, whose staging is a source of novelty, exhilaration and frustration.
Tearing down the usual barrier between audience and dancers, the company has created a shared space on the stage of the Festival Theatre, fenced with captivating, colour-changing strip lights. Within this contained area, audience and dancers mingle, as Fleur Darkin’s choreography plays with both the thrill and discomfort of intimacy. Blankly staring dancers approach spectators, touch them, recruit their bodies into the piece. There are plenty of nervous giggles, but also moments of sheer hypnotic pleasure.
With freedom of movement, however, comes the fear of missing something. Walking around the space can become an exercise in trying to keep up, as dancers whirl past and fleeting moments pass just at the corner of the eye. As the action escalates, meanwhile, audience members are often simply in the way, as the piece attempts to shepherd us without breaking the illusion of autonomy. It’s clever in its gentle manipulation, but not quite clever enough.
The collective euphoria that builds throughout the show begins to justify its staging, but it never entirely shakes a sense of slight confusion. Left to find a way through the piece, it’s all too easy to just feel a bit lost.