Dark Matter takes an ironic trip into an alternate dimension

    1 of 2 2 of 2

      A Kate McIntosh production. A PuSh International Performing Arts Festival presentation. At SFU Woodward’s in the Goldcorp Centre for the Arts on Wednesday, January 28. Continues until January 30

      In the most farcical way possible, Dark Matter takes on big questions of quantum physics, but it may be chaos theory—on second thought, make that pure chaos—that the show delivers most.

      By the end of this dance-theatre-meets-performance-art work from Brussels, the stage is littered with flour dust, multicoloured Ping-Pong balls, puddles of water, paper bags, popped balloons, and rope, the detritus of 80 minutes of science experiments gone goofily awry. In a riff on a classic physics trick, several amplified metronomes spend the final minutes clicking out of synch in the dark—a trip into the void if ever there was one.

      Don’t come here looking for the answers to the meaning of existence; Dark Matter plays with notions of what we don’t, and cannot, know. Instead, it pushes things into a realm of absurdity, with a clumsiness and loose structure that are intentional but that viewers will find frustrating. Still, you have to admire what it’s trying to do, recasting real physics tests into a strange, boozy realm of a Blue Velvet–worthy retro nightclub.

      Magnetic Kiwi-turned-Belgian Kate McIntosh is the smoky-voiced, blue-martini-slurping vixen who hosts the evening, looking like a cabaret singer in a ridiculously sparkly emerald-green dress. Her assistants are two incongruous, tweed-suited schlubs (Thomas Kasebacher and Bruno Roubicek), meant to look like bumbling science professors suddenly dropped into a theatre show.

      There are no words at first, just a frantic vision of all the players running about the stage to the sounds of deliriously retro, Tonga Room–style beats, performing half-ass physics experiments, using planks, boards, balloons, bags with holes in them, and copious amounts of fog from a handheld smoke machine. It is an anarchic blur, antitheatrical in its failed tricks.

      Things become considerably more surreal. Without giving too much away, consider this scene: a man lying motionless on the floor, his head and face completely covered in a big pile of flour, breathing through a tube hooked up to a microphone, while our sequin-dressed host talks melodramatically about how “tonight will be a night of questions, the bigger the better”. When the lights go down and the stage becomes a sea of twinkling stars, things get even weirder. There are messy experiments on a rolled-in science table (not all are empirical; watch a soggy napkin become the model for the subconscious), and a sequence where our two nutty professors act as bizarre backup singers in an existentialist musical number. When our emcee “disappears” into another dimension, we wait, and wait, for her return—one of the show’s many awkward pauses.

      At one point McIntosh asks, “It’s too much, isn’t it?” and as much as some might enjoy this ironic trip into an alternate dimension, you have to agree. It probably is.

      Comments

      3 Comments

      Turtle

      Jan 30, 2015 at 9:07am

      Could not disagree more. Had the pleasure to see "Dark Matter" yesterday, what an invigorating experience! Each move choreographed to the precision, wonderful use of stage, incredibly engaging performers and overall a really interesting, boundary-pushing production. Although definitely not for the close-minded who prefer to colour inside the lines, this experience is a wonderful ode to Vonnegut, Becket and all of those who question the fabric of our very existence. Trance-surfing of performance art at it's best.

      Paper Tigerlily

      Jan 31, 2015 at 12:10pm

      wank

      Waste of resources

      Feb 3, 2015 at 12:33am

      I love theatre and it's pieces like this that make most people avoid it like the plague. The longest 90 minutes of my life. We need to create performance spaces that we can stealthily and politely escape after the opening minute of pieces like this. Why was any money spent on bringing us this show from Europe? Push is a curated festival but all three shows I've seen this year were terrible (I have seen strong productions in previous years along with other boring ones). Shouldn't we spend our limited performing arts budgets strengthening our local companies and artists? Shouldn't we ensure our curated festivals feature consistently strong productions that will help develop our limited audiences? Please do not bore us to death with pseudo-intellectual, dull, artiste wanks.