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Director
Nigel Triffitt
Choreographer
Dein Perry
Music
Andrew Wilkie
Design
Nigel Triffitt
Lighting
David Murray
Gavin Norris
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Sadler's
Wells
5
- 23 August 2003 |
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Butch boys in
Blundstone boots they might be, but
the faded jeans, lumberjack shirts and
baseball caps belie formidable talent
and astounding poise. These nine Aussie
men (and now, in this ÏrebootedÓ version,
three Aussie women) whirl a delighted
audience through 75 minutes of tap dances
that are dazzling, inventive, witty
and joyful. This is Dein Perry's self-styled
Ïreinvention of tapÓ that won international
acclaim and awards at the opening ceremony
of the Sydney Olympic Games in 2000.
The show does not pretend to be profound
(in fact the casual clothes, informal
humour and cutely amateurish style pretend
the opposite) but is a literally breathtaking
and relentlessly upbeat display of tap-dancing
talent.
Tap
Dogs begins
with a combination of brilliance, humour
and surprise that runs throughout. A
series of feet sticking out below a
metal wall appear and disappear with
immaculate rhythm until you cannot tell
whose are whose. The launch of women
into the Tap
Dogs world
is signalled by a pair of kinky red
stilettos, and the joshing schoolboy
laughs begin when one pair of feet pisses
on another. From then on each scene
is a showcase for tap. Alone, in groups
and all together these nine fantastic
dancers tap together, tap alone, tap
fast, tap slow, tap in simple and complex
rhythms, tap on water, tap with basketballs
and iron rods, tap hanging upside down
suspended from ropes, and, just when
you are beginning to become numb to
the skill, they tap on ladders while
showering a solo tappist with sparks
from soldering irons. They tap on the
moving parts and chasms of Nigel Triffitt's
industrial stage sets as new scenes
are created around them, and tap into
a frenzied climax as the set is gradually
deconstructed, the steps grows more
and more complicated, and everyone ends
up covered in water (raincoats are provided
for those in the first row).
The driving
force is rhythm, and these guys have
got it. Only the dancers' arms and mouths
are allowed to run individual riot while
their feet are human drum kits (literally
in one scene in which they tap on pressure
pads each individually amplified to
sound like a different drum) and even
the bold lighting and set changes form
part of the music. At times the tapping
sounds like raindrops, like running
horses, like a train, and the range
of emotion is surprising - one scene
has a teacher (Drew Kaluski, the best
male tappist) teaching a student (both
seated) through his feet. Another is
a tense love scene with the brilliant
Vanessa Schembri. A far cry from Fred
and Ginger, but there are respectful
nods to old-style tap as the dancers
swing around metal poles in the rain.
The dancers' enjoyment is palpable,
and it would be hard not to come out
of the exhausting whirl energised and
satisfied.
Maya Lester |
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