To fully grasp the creative mechanics of Tree Of Codes, it takes a daunting amount of brain power. This collaborative homage — to a work that is itself an homage — takes its inspiration from American author Jonathan Safran Foer's mind-bending "book sculpture" of the same title, which was created via a meticulous deconstruction of avant-garde Polish writer Bruno Schultz's 1934 anthology The Street Of Crocodiles.
Joining forces to create a contemporary art supergroup, megastar choreographer Wayne McGregor, epic installationist Olafur Eliasson, and electro-wunderkind Jamie XX have each applied their own singular creative perspectives to the task of transmuting something of Safran Foer's intellectual bravura for the stage. However, the connections to their source material are discreet, to say the least.
Those hoping to succinctly follow this process of interpretative reinterpretation will no doubt leave this production flummoxed; the cerebral acrobatics churning at its core are just too inscrutable. But in truth, this hardly matters. The tangible result of this colossal thought experiment is a wondrous, kaleidoscopic spectacle, that requires nothing more from its audience than well-deserved awe.
There are feats of breathtaking technical chutzpah on offer, perhaps most strikingly in the opening scene. Onto a black, abyssal stage, a constellation of lights bob and weave, streaking fleeting threads of illumination across the face of the darkness. No discernible bodies are visible; the anatomical logic of moving limbs becomes utterly disassociated from this ballet of stars, as they coalesce, refract, and rebound through space.
Other moments impress with their ambitious scope. Eliasson's sets send infinite reflections of dancers to the horizon, filtering an iridescent palette of trippy, psychedelic colours on audacious, architectural scales. McGregor's trademark complexity is taken to extraordinary extremes, as his superb dancers, sourced from his own company and the ranks of the Paris Opera Ballet, offer a dizzying moto perpetuo of tessellating bodies. These writhing forms interlock and untangle, moments of graceful classicism interrupted by the hyperextended contortions of McGregor's distinctive style. At times, the multiplicity of this action comes close to being overwhelming, and dare I say, even frustrating, as the technical sophistication of individual gestures become lost in a sea of frenetic virtuosity.
Tree Of Codes excels in its biggest, boldest statements, but this comes at a price. Emotional delicacy is muscled out by the density of this production, and even during solos or duets, the intimacy of these encounters are often betrayed by the pervasive grandeur of the sets and score. On the flipside, when this piece is at full throttle, the experience is nothing short of white-knuckle. Whatever Tree Of Codes might lack in subtlety, it certainly makes up for in creative extravagance.
The Sydney Festival presents Tree Of Codes until 10 Jan at ICC Sydney.
This review was first published 18 Oct 2016, regarding a performance at the Melbourne Festival.
