PERFORMANCE & COMEDY

Cube cinema, Bristol (Mon 10-Wed 12 Oct)

DANCE / THEATRE Dan Canham's remarkable piece of physical theatre is a captivating exploration of what spaces mean to us and what happens when they fall into disarray. Originally developed as part of Ferment, Bristol Old Vic's platform for new performance, Canham's show delves into the past of an abandoned theatre and recreates its history through movement and sound. The building in question is the Athenaeum at 30 Cecil Street, Limerick which, in its past lives, housed a live arts space, a cinema, a bingo hall and an opera theatre. In 2009 Canham set about making a film about the building, interviewing those who previously used, visited and worked in the space. These recorded interviews provided the inspiration for his dance-theatre piece.

At one point during these recordings, which are played throughout the performance, we hear a voice remark: “It’s very easy to destroy a space, but it takes a lot to build it up.” And build up this forgotten space is exactly what Canham does, through an exploration of memories, stories and forgotten communities. As well as the interview snippets, ghostly melodies from 30 Cecil Street’s past – opera singing, film scores, shouts of revelry ­– accompany Canham’s breathless dance and movement.

As he moves, his body appears to inhabit a space separate to the physical one surrounding him, sometimes twisting as if confined and trapped, at others pulsating as if in the midst of a sweaty dancefloor. There are moments where it seems to glide through the air, unconstrained by the laws of the physical space it moves in. His body creates the forgotten space for the audience – we see the wild parties, the fights, the decadent performances. And we also see the construction of the theatre itself – the stage he springs across, the corriders he creeps down, the stairs he climbs.

This rebuilding of 30 Cecil Street asks us to question what a space means to us and how we construct it in our minds. Is it merely the geographical area – the square feet on which the foundations are built, the bricks and mortar that make up the walls? Or is it the events that occur inside ? And is our mental construction of a place any more or less valid than someone else’s? Is it composed of just its present, or is it also its past and future? Most of all, though, Canham's piece composes a love letter to the theatre. It mourns its passing, and it celebrates the life it once had. (Jessica Bateman)

Copyright Jessica Bateman 2011