Blacklist

The weird has started again. MONA’s third annual Dark Mofo festival in Hobart began in earnest. One of the most anticipated events of the opening night was Blacklist, described by event organisers as a “late night ceremonial death dance”, taking the place of the previous aftershow party, Faux-Mo. Blacklist did not disappoint.

Great mystery surrounded the first night of Blacklist. The venue location was secret, only being revealed that very morning in the form of a 15-second video in which Kamahl disclosed that it was to be held at Budgie Smugglers — a well known takeaway food shop in Hobart’s city centre. On arrival for the 9pm start however, it was revealed that Blacklist was actually taking place across the road, in Hobart’s City Hall. 

The set-up in the Hall was incredible. Along with the stage at the front, there was a second stage in the centre of the room, bedecked by what can only be described as a twisted Christmas tree. Standing 20 metres tall, it was crafted from art materials, created in the shape of human bodies in congress, all twisted around one another. The upstairs level running around the periphery of the room proved a prime vantage point to watch the dancefloor below for the wallflower types. 

The night began slowly, throbbing music welcoming the crowd as it began to arrive, small performance acts and musicians beginning to warp as a trickle became a deluge after the conclusion of the overlapping The Preatures gig at the Odeon Theatre as the modern bacchanalia began in earnest. Suddenly, figures wearing hotel bathrobes took to the stage to a heavy synth bass soundtrack and began unrolling an enormous piece of white cotton material over the crowd, encompassing the entire dancefloor. The performers began waving the material, creating the sensation for festival-goers of being underwater. The crowd cheered and danced ecstatically, trying to touch the temporary cloth ceiling in rapture. The mood was wild and joyous. When the material was wrapped up, the mingling, dancing and drinking resumed. Throughout the night, the screen over the main stage played night-vision images of people kissing, streaming live directly from ‘kissing booths’ located around the Hall. 

At 1am, when the celebrations were in full swing, 12 ghostly figures began walking through the crowd towards the tree at the centre of the room, wearing only body stockings. At Blacklist, their nudity was not out of place. They climbed onto the platform and spaced themselves evenly around the tree, as hours on a clock. Both tree and performers began spinning, and what can only be described as frantic pagan dancing ensued. The entire crowd stopped what it was doing and watched, with open mouths and wide eyes. For 15 minutes, the performers flung themselves at one another, contorted themselves and marched hypnotically around the tree. The performance concluded suddenly, encapsulating the evening: nobody was expecting it, and nobody understood what was going on, but it was enthralling and engaging. As there is no program for Blacklist each night, these performances are different, unexpected – and incredible. 

The mood of the entire crowd can only be described as euphoric. Once again, MONA has succeeded, and at Blacklist literally anything can happen. The best way to approach it is to just sit back, get swept up in the moment and let the experience take you wherever you need to go. And remember — the safe word is ‘bananas’.