Human Imitations is about putting on a show - although the five men who struggle to do so prove to be endearingly bad at the task.
Finnish choreographer Jyrki Karttunen is known for his oblique, comic take on the worlds of dance and the male psyche. In this work, the five dancers, including himself, are a bunch of guys attempting to find cool images for themselves, as well as trying to stage a piece of theatre. Their only props are some bad clothes, an old rug, and some very basic sound and light effects; most of the time they appear as hopeful, dithering amateurs.
The piece is constructed as a series of monologues, dance numbers, simple mise en scène - and nearly all of them go wrong. When the men have to speak, they mumble and stall. When they change outfits, they get shifty and self-conscious. When they dance, one of them is always a beat behind, trying to catch up, eyes lurching in panic. Sometimes their fumbled efforts lead comically to blows but when they are successful, there is a heartbreaking, naive joy in their triumph. A brilliant set-piece, in which one man exuberantly rides a "flying carpet" while the others flap the rug and create wind effects, has the audience laughing with pure pleasure. Towards the end, the piece starts to feel over-long but, even so, its material is delivered with perfect pitch, and in loving detail.
As the five men attempt to get their collective act together, their pratfalls, scraps and excitements develop into a very intimate, if eccentric, portrait of male community. Human Imitations may look like a piece about theatre, but it depicts a very real and beguiling little world.
