
<BR><small>Scottish Dance Theatre</small><P><B>Scottish Dance Theatre</B><BR>The Place Theatre,15th March 2002<P><BR>BY LUCIANA BRETT<P><BR>The first thing that strikes you about Janet Smith’s ‘High land’ isn’t the green, toy monster that stares at you, boggled-eyed, from the centre of the stage; but the boyish enthusiasm of its puppeteer. In fact it’s the fresh, almost innocent enjoyment expressed by all seven dancers, a quality rarely seen on the London contemporary dance stage, that keeps you enchanted until the very end. <P>The Scottish Dance Theatre, which started out as a community dance group back in the mid 80’s, appointed Janet Smith as artistic director in 1997. Since then the company haven’t looked back, progressing rapidly in their craft and sophistication. ‘High land’ captures this sense of excitement beautifully.<P>The question inevitably occurs: is it a cliché for a Scottish dance group to perform a host of traditional Scottish images?<P>It might be. But the piece is constructed with such a lighthearted and joyous tone that one can’t help but be drawn into its irreverent spirit. Laughter rippled through the audience at the sight of the ‘Loch Ness Monster’ emerging from behind a raised platform, as the dancers arched their backs, one by one, to form its scaly spine. Or smile at their clownish mockery of the highland hill-walkers in their anoraks.<P>The dance follows a traditional choreographic structure, with solos, duets, trios and quartets dividing the piece into equal sections. But there are a number of unexpected shifts in tempo and dynamic which take you by surprise. All of a sudden, for example, the company line themselves along the back. Their sequence is visually complicated as each dancer, in a different order, bursts forward with a jump, turn or twist before they resume their original positions.<P>In the second piece, there is a total mood change. ‘Daddy I’m not well’, choreographed by guest artist Jan De Schynkel, tried hard to provoke and shock us.<P>Inspired, or was it muddled, by an indigestible mix of influences: Sophocles’ Oedipus The King, Aeschylus’ Oresteia, paintings by Francis Bacon and text by T.S. Eliot, De Schynkel seemed to entangle his quartet of dancers in a complicated web of emotions. He also surrounded them with a bizarre array of props. Costumes were made up of Russian-style fur coats, hats and boots, and the set design included a large purple hook suspended above the floor by a metal chain and two hanging sacks in flesh coloured material. It was hard to see how one thing related to another.<P>The piece was technically demanding and the dancers certainly coped well with its numerous arabesques, balances and turns but the meaning behind De Schynkel’s gestural vocabulary remained obscure. The audience were left without any convincing insight into the work’s stated themes. Provocative actions became simply effects. <BR><p>[This message has been edited by Stuart Sweeney (edited March 18, 2002).]