A giant newt captivates the audience before the curtain rises on Body of Darkness and Light. Caught on film, he rolls to the sound of a heart beat. As the curtain quietly pulls away, his image dwarfs the stage.
Dancers from the Spanish company Lanonima Imperial slowly join him as prehistoric sounds ooze out and we go back to basics - man and woman naked at the beginning of time. Sounds heavy? Not a bit - a light touch from choreographer Juan Carlos Garcia and his collaborator, designer Paloma Navares, make beauty the priority.
Big-cat growls announce a mating game as panthers prowl nose to tail across the backdrop. Like the newt, they are blown up on grainy, black and white film. Like the newt, they are sexy in slow motion.
Before them, seven dancers move gracefully from walking and standing to spinning and coiling. Throughout the piece Garcia uses a winding of the body that begins at the neck and ripples right down the torso to the knees. It's erotic and hypnotic - so much so that somewhere during the panthers and the partnering, some minutes of stage time seem to disappear.
The scene changes and tubular lights wrap reproductions of Old Master babes - pretty maids in a row along an orange wall. Moaning indicates that a climax is approaching. Dancers pair and snake together as the soundtrack accelerates, and again, bang in the middle of the coupling, I lose track. There are too many images, too many twists in the soundtrack. Big white nighties float in on the back of a duet, butting into what has hitherto been a symbiotic relationship between dance and art.
Fortunately, when this section is over, harmony is regained. A goddess appears on film, joined by three female dancers and another naked-lady light sculpture. The bodies meet but hardly touch. To the side, one of the three Graces blends herself statuesquely with the sculpture. Past and present, art and life meet.
Body of Darkness and Light is a flawed but mostly beautiful hour of dance.
