Review: Léa Tirabasso’s In the Bushes – a very bizarre trip

I suppose there’s lots of different ways a maker could discuss the theory of evolution and human exceptionalism, and many current choreographers would (predictably) do something dark, heavy and depressing.

Not the case with Léa Tirabasso. For her work In the Bushes, Tirabasso has gone down the absurd humour route, so the 55-minute work can only be described as a very bizarre trip. Which will work for some and less for others. I don’t love absurd as a genre, but I do enjoy originality and commitment, and the work and dancers have both in abundance.

The cast of six communicate as fledglings of sorts, exploring their world with curiosity and irreverence. They move around the space in a giddy manner – giggling, squealing, gurning, singing – for comedic value rather than to be taken seriously.

Though voice is used, there isn’t much discernible language to hold onto. Near the end of the piece, the two male dancers are looking for “Fernanda?” and “Jacqueline?”. As they search, two female cast members are on the floor giggling away, seemingly invisible, both in a state of sexual arousal. The scene doesn’t really go anywhere, it just unfolds and moves on. This is a recognisable pattern throughout the work, which can make matters feel inconsequential, verging on silly. But perhaps that’s the point?

The electronic score by Johanna Bramli and Ed Chivers is largely atmospheric and background, but does include ‘bursts of classical and operatic music’. There’s an interesting scene that uses Mozart’s Lacrimosa. One of the fledglings has passed away, and the rest of the troop move her through space as if she’s still alive. Skimming the floor, flying, rotating etc. Again, I’m unsure of the relevance, but the material was of interest in the moment.

The dance phrases don’t work in tandem with the soundscape. The dancers tend to initiate the start of a phrase and keep the beat through percussive execution and beady eyes. The majority of the emphasis is down and grounded, though the odd leap manages to escape through, which the doers seem to take great pleasure in – cue squeal, gurn and rolling eyes.

Nudity features, as does a constant sexual arousal undertone. Sometimes it’s at the forefront – bodies touched, pleasuring via the erogenous zone, a prop reminiscent of a labia used to frame the face. Is all of this a comment on human exceptionalism? Is Tirabasso discussing the basic, animalistic behaviour of humankind? Difficult to know, but the overarching message feels repetitive and random.

As previously mentioned, the evening includes originality and commitment, but there’s only so much absurdity, in the form of horny lemmings, I can take. It’s important to play, and explore ideas with lightness and joy, however as an audience member I like to get somewhere with my own thinking, which didn’t happen here. With reflection, I could appreciate a perspective on evolution and human exceptionalism was at play, but the current framework isn’t my go-to genre of structure or choice. But that’s cool, as I’m only one lemming on a planet of 8,209,469,755 and counting. In The Bushes is going to work for lots of them.

Matthew Paluch Guest Author

Matthew Paluch was awarded a place at The Royal Ballet School in 1990 where he graduated in 1997. His first four years as a professional dancer were spent working with London City Ballet, Scottish Ballet, K-Ballet and English National Ballet, becoming a full-time member of ENB until leaving in 2006.

Matthew graduated from the Royal Academy of Dance, Professional Dancers’ Teaching Diploma in 2007, and was formerly on faculty at The Royal Ballet School. He completed his Masters in Ballet Studies at Roehampton University in 2011, has been a freelance writer since 2010 and currently works in the Law Sector.

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