Chinese dance icon Yang Liping's Under Siege, a mesmerising fusion of ancient history, traditional folk craft and 21st-century invention, is a glorious spectacle. Designer Tim Yip, best known for his Oscar-winning art direction on martial arts masterpiece Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, conjures a world of brutal beauty to tell the story of the bloody clash between ancient warlords Xiang Yu and Liu Bang.
Above the stage, a writhing canopy of steel scissors hangs in dense, oppressive masses. These clanking blades are both majestic and foreboding, an expression of power and violence, bending to the iron wills of two mortal enemies. Beneath these metal shards, drifts of blood-red feathers swirl in hypnotic eddies, as the rolling, sweeping motions of the dancers are chased by the echoes of vortices. Like the blades overhead, there's a duality to be found in this crimson softness, offering both a vision of ravishing grace and a sobering evocation of the blood spilt in the service of empire-building.
Choreographer Yang Liping uses every physical resource at her disposal. In the adrenaline-pumping battle scenes, warriors tumble and somersault across the stage, dazzling with a break-neck cocktail of folk dance, contemporary choreography and daredevil acrobatics. In one especially white-knuckle sequence, the tortured and bipolar general Han Xin, whose split personality is represented by two performers dressed in white (Xiao Fuchun) and black (Ouyang Tian), toes the line between dance and martial arts. This symbiotic pair spar and tussle, high-kicks and blocked punches counterpointed against the lines of a more refined palate of gestures.
There are accents of Peking Opera in the classical delivery of the narration, but these are framed with a thoroughly modern aesthetic, marrying the ancient past to a creative present. The combination of old and new both transforms and informs, imbuing its opposite with fascinating depth. The result is a visually exhilarating thrill-ride of a production that revels in the cartwheeling virtuosity of its cast. Strangely, however, the most powerful moment of this show is also one of its calmest. With another nod to traditional Chinese theatre, the role of Xiang Yu's loyal-yet-doomed concubine Yu Ji is performed by a male dancer, Hu Shenyuan. However, there is no attempt to disguise his gender, once again offering the subversive via the traditional. There is both a stunning elegance and quiet eroticism in Hu's supple, spooling lines and also heartbreaking sadness; an island of grace overwhelmed by a sea of endless conflict.
This performance, for all its triumphs, was not without its shortcomings, most notably in composer Lao Luo's stylistically garbled and disastrously edited prerecorded score - mercifully interspersed with some excellent traditional Chinese music, performed live. This reviewer can only hope this is merely a case of unflattering opening night tech issues, as the rest of this show deserves a soundscape of a vastly superior calibre.
Melbourne Festival presents Yan Liping Contemporary Dance's Under Siege, till 8 Oct at Arts Centre Melbourne.
