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Patrick Pawsey Vale July 12, 2009

A revolving stage, dancers in high heels and a very clouded view of an apparently 'simple' situation bring together the many elements of this dynamic, exciting dance/stage play.

If you've not seen much modern dance, I think you'll be pleasantly surprised by how inventive a designer and choreographer can be within the close confines of a stage set. Dancing becomes definitely three-dimensional and have you ever seen slow-motion ballet before?

This, alongside the quite graphic portrayal of the subject matter (a court case involving the death of a man, while alone in a house with his friend's wife) weaves delicately but powerfully with the interspersed spoken word - by which I mean acted - sections. Have you ever seen dancers actually act, and act well, before?

Director / Choreographer Jasmin Vardimon's careful observation of the mechanics of the modern courtroom, and the many ways in which a description of events can be subtly altered to dramatically change its perception in the eyes of an 'objective' observer (you, the audience, are the 'jury' in this eventually wholly open-ended case) all work to create at atmosphere of intense mystery and a curious tension between the performers.

The soundtrack's great. Apparently carefully selected after the finalisation of the dance movement to add atmosphere, rather than suggest realities, it does an excellent job. And you have to love Paul Blackman's character Seth's wonderful portrayal of the group-therapy session leader.. very funny indeed.

All together, this performance does exactly what it sets out as its aims - to question the various sides of the modern judicial system - effortlessly juxtaposing the varied sides of players both pledging their innocence and agonising over their feelings of guilt. Cleverly, the same players are never placed definitively in one category or the other, leaving it very much up to the audience to decide what - if any - conclusions to draw as to the 'fact' of the matter.

Justitia is a corking piece of dance. Most dance, modern and ancient, is very good at depicting relationships between people and less good at story-telling. Justitia, however, does both superbly.

The story of a domestic murder is unveiled little by little. The lawyer in charge presents so many versions of what might have happened that things seem to get more confused the longer we spend in the courtroom.

I was expecting a terribly serious evening, and was delighted to find that this is not a searing indictment, but rather a playful sideswipe at the Justice system. Not surprisingly the injection of humour means that it actually says far more and says it better. That said, it's not all sweetness and light. There is a very discomfitting depiction of the possible rape which might have led the accused to respond so violently.

Jasmin Vardimon's stylish, fluid, acrobatic and at times almost mechanised choreography is complemented by excellent design, not least the revolving set. It's divided into three areas - courtroom, living-room, waiting-room, with chairs that pierce a wall, providing a ladder until they are removed to be sat on. Doors and louvred windows allow glimpses and movement from one space to another.

The choreography makes joyful parody of some cinematic techniques. Rewinding a scene won a round of applause from the audience, and since the heroine of the piece is from Hong Kong, we're treated to a whole Crouching Tiger slow-mo ninja fight scene, with three assistants to help the fighting pair defy gravity.

The soundtrack is pretty eclectic - there's even some Johnny Cash in there, and silence is also used to great effect. One female character is danced by a man. It works, but is never explained. Unusually for a lot of modern dance Vardimon includes speech and text. While this might annoy the purists it enhances the drama and the depth of the characters. And at the end the stage revolves with slow inevitability, showing a series of tableaux. In each room a scene appears and disappears, like waxworks. It's really eerie, in the same way as Grant Wood's picture of the American couple with their pitchfork.

The whole is a perfect mix of the rich and the spartan; very satisfying. If she wrote a whole soap opera in dance I'd be hooked.

Jen 12 Jul 2009

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