Jump first, ask later. That’s the motto of the Fairfield-based Dauntless Movement Crew (DMC) and the name of their show at the Sydney Opera House. This slight 50-minute performance exhibits the urban extreme sport of parkour, a mishmash of scaling walls, leaping off blocks and sprinting along rooftops. On the street, however, they don’t ask authorities for permission; they just jump right in.
Now the dance company Force Majeure, in collaboration with the Powerhouse Youth Theatre, is bringing parkour to the mainstream, providing a platform to six founding members of DMC: Joseph Carbone, Johnny Do, Jimmy James Pham, Patrick Uy, Justin Kilic and its sole female representative, Natalie Siri, to show off their acrobatic skills. All six performers come from immigrant backgrounds, ranging from Italy to Vietnam; they also all grew up in Sydney’s Fairfield, a place recently referred to in the media as “Australia’s most dangerous suburb”.
Fairfield has been in the news for gang violence but Jump First, Ask Later director and designer Byron Perry wanted to portray a different side to the suburb: one in which kids on the block used parkour to find community and purpose. To drum that home, statistics regarding the multicultural make-up of the region are sprinkled liberally throughout the dialogue; we are reminded, above all, that western Sydney is one of Australia’s most culturally diverse regions (in Fairfield itself, more than half the population was born overseas).
Force Majeure’s strong sense of social responsibility is clear from its previous productions. Nothing to Lose, which had its premiere at the Sydney festival in 2015, saw seven plus-sized dancers challenge the preconception that thin means beautiful. Never Did Me Any Harm (2012) was a frank look at parenthood. Jump First, Ask Later seeks to rebut stereotypes about street culture and celebrate its possibilities.
The show opens with the crew warming up on stage, followed by group exercises including push-ups and the plank. In what boils down to a basic introduction to parkour, each member introduces an isolated movement, from backflips to something more akin to breakdancing. It’s a stilted structure, made all the more awkward when the crew stops dancing to tell their own stories.
Everything from parental disappointment to anger management, shyness and the mind-numbing boredom of factory work is touched on, often with intimacy and vulnerability. But DMC is not an acting troupe and it shows. The issues are discussed in too shallow a form to have much impact; worse, what should come off as casual chitchat and funny riffs between the crew is often mistimed. Conversation is designed to look impromptu but, when the performers regularly stumble, it seems heavily scripted.
The bumps might be bearable if there was a pay-off in the form of dazzling acrobatics or a big set piece. But while the performers are clearly talented and driven, the choreography is simply not strong enough to carry the show and it falls flat as a consequence. The fact that circus is today very much having a renaissance – and audiences are used to more sophisticated and physically impressive displays – only adds to the disappointment.
Ultimately, this feels more like a social project and self-help guide (right down to the inclusion of R Kelly’s song I Believe I Can Fly) than a polished production. No doubt its heart is in the right place, yet Jump First, Ask Later does not quite manage to shake its aura of amateurism. DMC makes cash by hiring out its members for events, including as undercover waiters at weddings. Here, sadly, they never manage to get beyond party tricks.
