By: Cathryn Macey
Rich multi-layered storytelling is at the pulsating heart of Teaċ Daṁsa’s MÁM.
Currently enthralling Plymouth audiences on the last leg of its national tour, this production is nothing short of groundbreaking.
Dubbed by The Irish Times as “90 minutes of ritualised ecstasy”, MÁM is a highly ambitious show that blends traditional elements of Irish culture and folklore with more modern aspects of popular music culture. The result is absolutely gripping and deeply spiritual.
Choreographer Michael Keegan – Dolan powerfully strips away formal conventions connected to dance, drama and music and manages to merge these different art forms together. The dancers, the musicians and the set all become one mighty unified force that collectively tell a series of stories about life, death and belonging.
Its exposition is seriously eerie. A priest-like figure sits on a raised platform in front of a young girl in a white dress. The mysterious male figure (Cormac Begley) plays a concertina in an unpredictable way; it’s out of tune at this point and when this unnerving sound is combined with sinister lighting, we are most definitely off to a chilling start that is tinged with uncertainty.
The child’s performance is captivating and she is the central point of focus for the remainder of the show; it’s as if we are seeing events unfold through the eyes of this young, innocent child.
Adding to the intensity of the existing scene, the entire ensemble morph into a wall of monsters that lurch towards the audience and the girl in the white dress. Costume design (Hyemi Shin) and set design (Sabine Dargant) complement one another exquisitely as the colours of black and white are carefully contrasted to heighten the theme of good versus evil.
It is this universally recognised theme that becomes the backbone for most of tonight’s choreography. Edgy posturing from the assemble soon dissipates into a more traditional depiction of life in an Irish community. The generic band of dancers previously disguised in intimidating plastic masks are now dancing freely in what looks like a village hall. Sipping on orange fizzy pop and scarfing down potato chips, the young girl looks on as the ensemble recreate a joyful dance accompanied by Cormac Begley’s (now upbeat) soundtrack.
You can almost smell the Guinness as tables and chairs are enthusiastically shoved aside for a multitude of duets and solo performances that embody the spirit of a good old fashioned Irish knees up. Aspects of physical theatre and even comedy are mixed into the groups’ movements which veer hypnotically from structured to more improvised.
Particularly engrossing are the sequences that mimic the effect of alcohol and tiredness on the brain; dancers glide and move rhythmically together before then slowly falling towards the floor only to quickly recover themselves. Their moves defy gravity and operate on a high level of collective trust. Similar moves are also used to represent the idea that we are stronger as a community; individual dancers spontaneously push themselves to the point of near collapse but are then held up and rescued by the rest of the group.
There is no official interval but there is the uncovering of S t a r g a z e. This energetic classical contemporary collective help to up the edgy atmosphere of the show. Not only is their live score mesmerising, but it is loud. The boundaries between dance and music are blurred as musicians become dancers and the dancers become musicians. Nothing is off limits and anything feels possible.
Who is leading who? The musicians or the dancers? This element of MÁM thrives on improvisation and audience participation and encouragement. Fans of progressive rock or jazz (or just good live music) will particularly enjoy this part of MÁM.
MÁM is one of those shows that hooks you in and doesn’t let you go. The performance’s ambiguous narrative may frustrate some but for others it is this ambiguity that makes the show an exhilarating and interesting watch.
As wild as a banshee’s shriek, this is dance theatre that demands to be seen.