Review: HUMANHOOD’s ∞ {Infinite} – genuine innovation

Despite seeing upwards of 200 performances a year, HUMANHOOD has hitherto passed me by and on, the evidence of this performance of ∞ {Infinite}, I’m glad to have caught up at last with the company that is jointly run by Julia Robert and Rudi Cole.

Founded in 2016, HUMANHOOD is already well-established as an Associate Company at Mercat de les Flores, Barcelona’s equivalent of Sadler’s Wells, and a theatre devoted to contemporary dance that I have often visited. This work premiered there in 2022: Robert is from Cataluña, which explains the association.

The company describes itself uniquely as Dance Theatre Meditation and there is mysticism and magic a-plenty about ∞ {Infinite}, a work that involves a transcendental journey through the elements of water, fire, air and earth. The co-choreographers’ preparations involved field research with an indigenous tribe in the highlands of Papua New Guinea.

The stage became a sacred space for this performance, an effect that is considerably enhanced by the interaction between the performers and the imaginative lighting designs of Tom Visser. The stark lighting changes have a dramatic effect on the visual impact of a work that varies from darkness to the dancers carrying their own lighting: at one point their portable lights – the dark stage’s only illumination – seamlessly transfer into static lights above the dancers’ heads. It’s quite the effect. In another sequence, one male dancer whirls an indeterminate object (it looks like the kind of wooden sharp-pointed stake one sees in cemeteries with a poppy as a centrepiece) around his body hundreds of times. It catches and reflects the light, accelerating to make a whizzing noise as “the stake” scythes through the air. And then there is the magical light that seems to bob back and forth on its own account (too high to be carried by a dancer). These sequences have a hypnotic effect.

The movement qualities of the choreography – and the extraordinary fluid energy of the dancers – are indeed meditative. Seven of them begin with their backs to the audience, slowly turning on the spot so that their legs cross and they gradually sink to the floor in this position, moving every-which-way from the waist upwards. It’s an interesting sequence that lasts a little too long. Later, the seven mysteriously become eight and they swirl and slide with occasional partnering as a male dancer carries a female dancer in a dizzying array of spins. 

The performers mostly moved individually with a variety of twirling body movements and arm extensions. They wore nondescript convict-grey uniforms (the tops were surreptitiously removed late in the performance with the women performers wearing nude-coloured bra-tops).  At times they collectively seemed like a storm in a cornfield, imagery suggested by the sound of birdsong being obliterated by a thunderstorm in the opening sequence; or human tumbleweed blowing diagonally across the stage. The counting was impressive since without any obvious clues in the music, the individual movement styles changed in a heartbeat to tightly unified ensemble action. When the dancers must have been as tired as they could be, the choreography required them to bounce continually for several minutes.

From that initial birdsong and thunderstorm, the excellent soundscape (by Ian Armstrong) kept up a perpetual rhythm that accelerated and decelerated to provide variety that matched the movement and the lighting. At the beginning and end of the work, Robert’s voiceover spoke (a little pretentiously) of cosmic powers (“I am the universe, and you are me” was one of the statements that I recall). 

It’s another immediate success story for Sadler’s West East to have introduced this excellent and rather unique company to a new audience (including this critic). It’s rare to find a mix of movement and lighting that has genuine innovation built into it. Some sections were a tad too long (such as that opening sequence) and the periods of darkness were all too frequent. Nonetheless, despite my few reservations, HUMANHOOD is a company to follow for the future.  I felt that the movement quality and visual appeal of this work were rather more successful than the majority of contenders in the recent Rose International Dance Prize.

Gramilano Editor

Graham Spicer, aka ‘Gramilano’, is a writer, director and photographer based in Milan. He was a regular columnist for Opera Now magazine and wrote for the BBC until transferring to Italy. His articles have appeared in various publications from Woman’s Weekly to Gay Times, and he wrote the Danza in Italia column for Dancing Times magazine. Graham was the historical advisor on Codice Carla, the 2023 documentary on Carla Fracci.

Graham also works as a dance photographer, and his photos have appeared in many books, theatre programmes, and magazines, including Dancing Times, Dance Spirit and Ballet2000, as well as all the major Italian newspapers.

He is a member of the Dance Section of The Critics’ Circle.